by Natalie Dean
Missy lingered for a moment before deciding to respect his decision and wandered off toward her apartment. It wasn’t until she was near her place that she looked down at the piece of paper that she was holding so incredibly tightly.
The words took a moment to make out considering the bright sun overhead, but as soon as she could read them, a jolt went down her spine. She knew this address. Just as everyone else in town did.
Somehow, without even trying, she had gotten a job at the Miller Ranch.
Missy stared down at the small scrap of paper, her breath catching. The Miller Ranch was a staple of the town, been there since before the state was even a state. And the family that ran it was incredibly wealthy. Like… Missy had heard they were up in the billions. And all from treating their animals with respect instead of going grand scale.
She couldn’t believe it!
After so many months of looking, a job had just landed in her lap!
She just hoped it went well. If there was something that she had learned in her years of being a ne’er-do-well of the town, it was that the well-off people were all too happy to remind those under them exactly of their position.
Oh well, she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Especially not a gift horse that paid in cash.
2
Bart
Explosions.
Dirt flew everywhere, particulates hitting the sides of the armored vehicle, his helmet, his goggles. Everything was enveloped in a cacophony of death and destruction, but Bart couldn’t turn his head one way or the other.
“Help me!”
“God, my arm!”
“Move!”
Too many screams to comprehend, the occasional one lurching through the maelstrom but most of them blending into a constant shriek of terror. The telltale staccato of gunfire provided a rhythm to the symphony of horror around him, driving his heart into a harder and harder tempo.
Then, just above, a sound he knew all too well. It was a distinctive whistle, one that only came before something even more devastating.
No.
He wasn’t going to lose more of his friends to RPGs.
As if darkness had been lifted from beside him, he saw his best squadmate curled on the ground, holding his bleeding face. Diving over him, Bart protected him from the blast as best he could.
Except instead of hitting the hard-packed earth of the desert, he landed in a relatively soft pile of hay.
Oh.
That wasn’t right.
Vision slowly clearing, Bart tried not to succumb to the intense nausea rolling through him. As usual, it took him several minutes to get right in his body and mind without feeling like tossing his cookies.
He laid there, breathing like his therapist taught him, and eventually, he felt tethered to reality enough to open his eyes. Glancing around, he realized that he was back home. He was safe.
There were no missiles.
There was no blood.
It was just him, a bucket of paint, and a couple of animals.
Sighing to himself, Bart stood. He was glad that none of his family was around to see his embarrassing display. As far as they knew, his episodes were getting fewer and farther in-between. Bart would prefer if they stayed believing that. Because if they knew that it felt like not much had changed to him, then maybe they might lose all hope.
Goodness knew he was almost there himself. Something was broken in him, and he had the feeling it wasn’t fixable.
Bart shook his head. This was no time to be melancholy. Besides, the more he let his thoughts linger on the darkness that liked to brew in his skull, the more likely he was to slip off into…
Into memories he’d rather not revisit.
A quick scan of the ground revealed that he had dropped his paintbrush on the hay. Oh right. As a surprise, he had been painting some of the stalls of the barn that his brothers were renovating. Ben had left during the weekend on a trip with his relatively new girlfriend Chastity, while Benji was helping with a cattle drive. He’d thought that this would have been a pleasant treat for the third of the barn that they had finished, but it wouldn’t be if he spilled paint everywhere.
His eyes slid to the upended can, and he sighed once more. “Guess I better clean that up before it dries,” he murmured, going over to one of the wash-sinks and attaching a strong hose.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long to wash away the mess and put away the rest of his supplies. He would try again another day. As usual, he was incredibly tired after one of his episodes and just wanted to lay down.
To think that he had once been an endless ball of energy. Those times seemed so far behind now, back when he was a young prankster and the life of every party. Almost like a different lifetime.
He wished that he had gone to college or even stayed at the ranch like Ben. But no, he’d had adventure and patriotism in his blood, so he’d gone and ran off to—
“Hey, what’s going on in here?”
Bart whirled to look at his brother Bradley. He was shocked to see his younger brother, who had been backpacking across Europe for the past four months. He had arrived a couple of days back, but Bart had kind of forgotten about it completely. Sometimes, his memory wasn’t the greatest. It seemed that little details would slip away from him, vanishing into the ether where the rest of those lost moments went.
“Just painting.”
“Cool. You want a hand?”
Bart bristled. “I can paint by myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m not saying you do,” Bradley retorted easily. He was always so even-tempered. “But I was always the artistic one in the family, so I thought I might be able to lend a hand. You know, since I’ve basically got nothing else to do until Ben and Benji get back.”
Bart relaxed for a moment, telling himself he needed to chill. His brothers had always been there for him. There was no need to snap at him.
“If you want to grab another can, we can finish up this chunk together.”
“Right on. In the maintenance shed, right?”
“Yeah.”
Bart collected himself as his brother walked off and by the time Bradley was back, he felt much more in check.
They got to work quickly, and the painting was fairly relaxing. Almost like before he had gone off—before his world had crumbled around him. Before he was some sort of charity case taken on by his family instead of being part of the family.
“I miss this smell,” Bradley said with a sigh, a wan smile on his face.
Bart just snorted. “Which smell? The paint? The crap? The animals?”
“All of it.” Bradley laughed. “Even the bad stuff. Don’t get me wrong, the air in Europe was great, but there’s nothing like the ranch.
“Also, I definitely got soft while I was wandering around. Even backpacking, scuba diving, and hiking don’t compare to a summer’s worth of ranch work.”
Bart shared a laugh with him on that. “I know what you mean. For a bit, basic training was like a break to me. But then they caught on and singled me out for more personalized exercises.”
“It’s because you were bragging, weren’t you?”
Bart smirked. “You know me so well.”
“Yeah, I’d like to think so. You’re only the second oldest brother in our little dynasty.”
“Dynasty?” Bart snorted. “I wouldn’t call us that.”
“Really? You wouldn’t? We only happen to be a wealthy family that’s kept all our resources in our bloodline for generations and has no plans of changing that anytime soon.”
“Well, when you put it like that…”
The conversation went on from there, with lulls and peaks, and plenty of comfortable silence. It almost made Bart feel normal, if that were possible.
They had finished all of one side when it was beginning to grow dark. Which meant that they either missed dinner or it was about to be called. Bart stretched, setting his stuff in the sink.
“I think I’m
gonna head back to the house,” he said, turning on the water.
“Yeah, it’s about time. You want me to walk you back?”
Bart bristled, his teeth going on edge. It felt infantilizing to be constantly monitored, and he didn’t need it.
But as he stepped out into the night air, he felt dizziness swamp him, a sort of slipping feeling like he wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Reality had a strange sort of soapiness to it, threatening to slip out of his grip entirely.
“Bart? You want some company?” Bradley asked his brother again.
“Yeah, that would be nice,” he murmured, tucking his pride away. His therapist had told him time and time again that his illness was something akin to a broken leg. If his limb was in a cast, he wouldn’t keep walking on it, so since his mind had the injury, he needed to take care of it.
His brother finished up washing his brush and closing the paint can then joined Bart. Together they headed toward the main house. He was pretty sure that a warm meal would do him good.
If there was one thing that could tether him to the real world, it was Ma’s cooking. Nothing like a full belly to keep him rooted. At the moment, it was the best anchor he had.
3
Missy
Missy drove past the Miller Ranch sign, still hardly believing that it was all real. She kept wondering if she had just dreamed the whole thing up and was about to make a fool of herself. But she supposed she couldn’t turn back now, especially with a whole job on the line.
The long, long drive eventually lead her up to a large, beautifully constructed cabin. It was at least three stories with a wrap-around porch and large bay windows that no doubt let in tons of light. There was a massive garden outside, with flowers of every kind and thick ivy climbing up the sunny side of the house.
“Wow,” she murmured to herself, throwing the car into park and turning the engine off.
She sat there for a moment, not sure where to go, when a young man sauntered up to her car.
He was tall with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a scar across his chin but was handsome, in a roguish sort of way. He seemed to be around her age, but she didn’t remember him in any of her classes. And considering her graduating class was only 87 students, there was no way she would have forgotten him.
“Hey there! You must be the new hire around here. I’m Bradley Miller. Ma said you’d been coming in today.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Missy answered, feeling relieved. “Melissa Dominic, but you can call me Missy.”
“All right then, Missy. If you want to turn your car back on, I’ll walk ya to where you’re gonna park from now on.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She did as he said, and he walked her around the back of the house and down a small path to a bit of a dirt lot where there were several other cars. Not nearly enough for all the workers that had to be on the ranch, but she vaguely knew that a lot of the employees lived on Miller land, something about them being distant family members or cousins or something.
Once she was parked, she stepped out to receive a hearty handshake from the gentleman. Despite his young age, he didn’t look her up or down, or have his eyes linger where they shouldn’t. Instead, those hazel eyes stayed on her face, a pleasant grin on his own.
It was too soon to say, but Missy was beginning to be a bit hopeful about this whole Miller family business.
“All right, you ready to do a bit of a walkabout?”
Missy nodded, nerves bubbling in her stomach. She kept waiting for something bad to happen, like some sort of Aha! moment where something terrible occurred. Because that was her luck and always had been. If there was one thing that the Dominics never had, it was luck.
“So, you’re mostly going to be working in the main barn. The ranch hands will be letting out the animals in shifts, with the cows staying out most of the day, the sheep staying out for three or four hours twice a day, as long as the weather is nice, and the pigs out for about half the day. You have to be careful with them, you know, as they can get overheated real quick.”
“What about predators?” Missy asked, seeing the large building loom into view over a hill.
“Well, we have pretty nice pens for that reason. And then there’s the dogs.”
“The dogs?”
“Yeah, we’ve got Ivan, Chester, and Fargo who roam and make sure everything’s all right. They’ve chased off coyotes and thieves alike.
“Then there’s our sheepdogs, Cookie, Ophelia, Maggie, and Dunkirk. They protect the sheep, herd them, make sure they don’t wander off. They only come in when they want, while Chester and Fargo are generally inside every night.”
“Wow. Sounds like a real pack.”
“Yeah, you’ll meet them. They’re real friendly. And then there’s the cats.”
“What, you have guard cats or something?” Missy laughed.
“Actually, you could say that.” Bradley chuckled. “They keep out the rats and mice from the barns, and we just so happened to have a Maine Coon tomcat wander here when I was a kid, so now we’ve got some real monsters running around. I’ve seen a couple of them chase off a few coyotes, they’re that tough.”
“I have a hard time believing that—”
As if on cue, a fence came into view with a large shape sitting on one of the posts. For a moment, Missy didn’t recognize it, but as they approached, she realized it was indeed one of the largest cats she had ever seen.
It was gray and black but thickly coated like some sort of ancient, regal beast. Its head was nearly the size of a dog’s, and its tail was beautifully thick with fur that looked more like a feathered plume than something belonging to a cat. Missy reckoned the thing had to be near twenty pounds, and it wasn’t even fat by any means.
“Wow. You weren’t kidding.”
“What? You mean Bitsy here? She was the runt of her litter, actually. She’s kind of our baby. Probably why she’s the friendliest out of all of them.
“Word of advice, if you see one of the cats, let them come to you rather than vice versa. They’re nice but—well, you know how cats are.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good with animals.”
“Are ya?”
Missy nodded her head, pausing as they passed by the cat to offer her hand. She made sure not to come from above, but rather slightly below the cat’s noble head, and she stopped a bit away from it, laying her palm flat.
Bitsy regarded her for a moment, as if she was thinking, then carefully sniffed at Missy’s hand with her dark nose. After a few moments of inspection, she let out a tiny chirp and pushed her amazingly soft and furred head into Missy’s palm.
“There ya go. You’re a sweet thing, aren’t you?”
“Well isn’t that something? Bitsy is friendly, but normally she’s a bit more cautious around strangers.”
“Like I said, I do well with animals.”
“That’s gonna do you great here, that’s for sure. The cows are a whole lot easier to work with if they like you. We once had a muckraker who gave them the stink eye when they first joined us, and I’d never seen a single worker get projectile cow-pied so many times in one month. They ran ’em right off the ranch.”
Missy paled slightly. “Did you say projectile cow pies?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. It doesn’t happen very often unless a cow is sick or startled, and usually, it’s us ranch hands who get that treatment. As a muckraker, you just gotta watch your step.”
“If you say so…”
Thankfully the conversation shifted away from cow pies as they reached the main barn. Or at least, Missy assumed it was the main barn given its size and impressive structure. The thing was twice as big as the main house she had passed, and it was painted a beautiful shade of deep blue.
“I’m supposed to clean this every day?” Missy’s eyes were wide. She didn’t even know how that was possible.
“Hardly!” Bradley laughed beside her. “There’s five of you who work in here, and generally,
the goal is three stalls an hour. Altogether, it’ll take about a week for your group to get through the whole barn. Then you start right back over again.”
“That’s a relief.” Missy pretended like she was wiping sweat from her forehead, making a joke out of her lack of knowledge about life on the farm.
“There are plenty of other little chores as well to keep you occupied, just things that come up here or there. And of course, you get an hour and a half lunch and several breaks.”
“An hour and a half lunch?”
“Yeah, you can’t exactly run to the store or for fast food around here, so ya either eat in the worker’s cabin or back at your house. People need travel time, ya know?”
“How do you get anything done?” Missy felt like she was asking a lot of questions, but Bradley was still smiling and seemed to enjoy talking about the farm.
“Well, we start at five thirty in the morning generally. Speaking of which, Ma said she never told you our hours. Does six to three thirty sound doable to you?” Bradley raised his eyebrows as he looked at her.
“Yes. It’ll be a little rough for a bit since I’m used to sleeping in, but I did it for high school. I can certainly do it for this.”
“All right, that’s what I like to hear. That can-do attitude will do you well. Now, let’s get into what you’ll be doing here on the ranch…”
He started listing off her responsibilities, going through a stall and showing her step by step how to take care of it. She noticed that there were others in the background also working, and Bradley assured her they would be around if she had any questions.
By the time he finished, they were at least two hours into her first day. She was eager to get started. Sure, the barn smelled like poop, hay, and animals, and sure, she knew her whole body was gonna hurt real bad for a good while, but she was happiest being productive.
Laziness made her feel like she was proving everyone right—like she really wasn’t ever going to be good for anything.
Shaking that thought out of her head, she beamed as Bradley gave her a pitchfork. “So, you think you’re ready for me to let you tackle a stall on your own? To be honest, I just got back from a really long trip myself, and I’ve got a whole ton to catch up on.”