Country Pride (Belle Ridge Book 1)

by Charlene Bright

  The next day, Kinsley decided she had better do a little work since her publisher was expecting her to be productive even while stranded in Mayberry. After breakfast, she retired to her room and fired up her laptop. She stared at the blank screen for about an hour, occasionally typing a sentence and then erasing it. She tried to focus on starting an outline, but her thoughts kept wandering to a shirtless Jared, inching closer to her.

  Finally, she surrendered, shot her publisher an email saying she was working on the outline, and then stood up, stretching her arms above her head. She changed into her yoga clothes and unrolled her mat onto the floor. After doing twenty sun salutations she changed into her clean jeans, leaving on her yoga sports top, and headed out to see if she could be of some use to her host.

  She made her way to the barn, where he’d said he would be most of the morning. At first, she didn’t see him, but then she heard a shuffling and saw his legs sticking out from under the tractor. He fussed and dropped a wrench, which clanged when it met the side of the red toolbox.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured a more courageous Kinsley Griffin standing over him, her legs on either side of his hips while he watched her curiously. The alternate Kinsley lowered herself until she was straddling him and leaned forward, running her hands up his chest and pushing his arms above his head, leaning closer until their lips met.

  Suddenly she opened her eyes, shaking off the vision. “Something wrong?”

  He pulled himself along the ground until she could see his red face and intense eyes. They softened as his eyes met hers. He sat up, then stood, wiping dust from his jeans. “I’m trying to fix a fuel leak. This thing has been leaking gas for the past couple of weeks. I was sure I could do it myself without having to take it to someone. But it’s looking like it may require a tool I can’t find. I was sure I had this type of wrench, but it could have been leant out to someone. Half my tools here are ones I borrowed from others. They always come and get it when they need it back.”

  “Kind of like a library?” Kinsley asked. “Do you each have to sign a form to check out a tool from one another?”

  “More like a swap meet,” he said with a grin. “But I like the idea of having a library of farm tools for everyone to share.” He turned away from her and looked over his shoulder. “Can you wipe the dust off my back?”

  She stepped forward and lightly brushed her hands over this shoulders and shoulder blades and then down his back, stopping before she touched his rear. “There. I think I got it all.”

  When he turned to face her, she realized just how close they were. Remembering how he had seemed to put on the brakes after the laundry room incident, she stepped back quickly.

  “What brought you down to the barn?”

  “Well, I was having a bit of writer’s block because I kept noticing what a nice day it was. I couldn’t concentrate, so I thought I’d come see if there was anything I could do to help out here.”

  “I don’t generally work on Sundays. Just got to thinking about the tractor and thought I’d take a look while I was thinking about it. But how about we saddle up and take a ride? We can make sure that latch is still secure.”

  She nodded eagerly and went to the tack room to find the saddle she had used the day before. Marshall and Big Sal were ready for the exercise and trotted quickly while Jared led them to the cattle pen.

  After they made sure the cows were still secure, he pulled on Marshall’s reins and tugged him in the opposite direction. She followed him to the gate at the back of the property. “There’s a trail back here that Marshall and I like to walk.”

  After he shut the gate and climbed back onto Marshall, they started toward a shaded area at an even pace. They had been on the path a couple of minutes or more when Kinsley broke the silence. “What was your wife’s name?” She was behind him and unable to see his expression.

  As the moment stretched before he spoke, she started to fear that she shouldn’t have brought it up. But he spoke gently with a fondness. “Julia.” He looked back and she saw his face was smiling at the memory, and the look made her relax.

  “Nikki said you two were high school sweethearts.”

  He nodded and looked ahead to the trail as she led Big Sal up to ride alongside him. “First girl I ever kissed. We were about eight years old. I never stopped telling people she was going to be my wife someday. So, we were really elementary school sweethearts.”

  “So, you dated her since you two were eight?”

  “Oh no, there were a couple of other girlfriends and boyfriends in there. I just always knew she was the one. She had this beautiful laugh that made me think of glass. And she loved to laugh. It’s a good thing she found me so funny, though I never could figure that one out. When she died, I knew I’d never find one like her again. After a couple of years, mostly at the insistence of friends and family, I did start dating a little.” He looked at her as if just realizing she were there.

  Kinsley smiled at him, encouraging him to continue.

  “Well, nobody seemed to fit, you know? And it was so hard to relax and really want to get to know another woman when all I could think about was that Nikki needed my whole attention since she’d lost half of her parents.”

  “But wasn’t Nikki nearly an adult? And when she moved to college, did you still feel that all of your focus needed to be on her?”

  He looked at her thoughtfully. “Okay, doc, I guess I haven’t been very good at letting go. Until …”

  She let him trail off. They were about a mile down the shaded trail when they came out from the canopy of trees and noticed a dark patch of sky in the distance.

  “Looks like we’re in for a storm earlier than they said it was gonna be. We should turn back. I’m not sure how fast that’s moving and whether it’s even moving in our direction, but better safe than sorry.”

  They turned the horses back toward the barn, but the storm was moving faster than expected. They hadn’t made it halfway home when raindrops began to tap on their heads. By the time they were at the barn’s entrance, the rain was coming down in sheets. Jared’s hat had deflected most of the rain from his head, but wet clothes clung to both of their bodies, and water dripped from Kinsley’s soaked hair. She was more concerned about the horses. Once they were sheltered, they immediately removed the saddles and blankets, hung them on rails to dry, and secured the horses in their stalls.

  Jared was hanging up his hat to dry while she stood just inside the door, watching the rain pour down. She hugged her shoulders and felt a strong sense of calm. Unlike most people, she preferred gray, rainy days to sunny ones. The rain put her into a meditative mind and made her feel more in touch with the world. It was cleansing and peaceful. Out of the rain now with the wind blowing into the barn, a chill caused a shiver to ripple down her, and she hugged her arms closer.

  Suddenly a warmth radiated into her back and covered her bare arms. She leaned backward into Jared’s chest as he rubbed the cold bare skin of her upper arms. His hands moved down the sides of her arms and traced to her hands. Crossed over each other in front of her, Kinsley’s hands laced themselves into his and she felt his breath on her neck, hot and urgent. He softly touched his lips to her neck and along her collarbone, then to her ear. She turned her face toward him and their lips met, softly at first. When she tentatively pushed her tongue past her lips to taste the rain on his, he groaned against her and pulled her closer.

  He protested when she stepped back from him. She whispered roughly, “Not here.” He gripped one hand and pulled her from the barn toward the house. A flash lit up the cloudy sky, followed in seconds by a thunder clap that seemed to shake the porch as they stepped onto it.

  Jared paused at the front door and pulled her in front of him, pushing her back to the door while he moved to kiss her again. Before his mouth could reach hers, the door gave behind her and they fell into the dark living room. He braced his arms to keep from dropping on top of her and possibly injuring her.

  He studied her fa
ce with concern. “Are you okay?”

  In answer, she laughed and put her arms around his neck again. “I can think of places more comfortable.” He grinned and stood up, lifting her to her feet. Then he reached behind her and flipped the light switch. The room remained dark even after flicking it a couple of times.

  “Power must be out. Let me go find some candles while you get out of those wet clothes.” He grinned at her before leaning in to press his lips lightly and quickly against hers. Then he bent down to remove his wet boots and set them on the porch while she slipped out of her tennis shoes and set them next to his. They both plodded barefoot across the hardwood floor, leaving drops of water falling from their clothes and bodies along the way.

  Since it was still afternoon and the sun had not yet begun to set, the room had enough light for him to see his way to the credenza behind the dining table. He opened a drawer that held some flashlights, batteries, a few tea lights and taper candles, and matches for just such an event. The cabinet directly beneath had larger candles, some on candle holders and some poured in glass containers. He’d always drilled Nikki and Julia to return anything they took from this area immediately after they were finished with it so the items could easily be found in the dark.

  He removed a couple of flashlights and tested them to make sure their batteries were good. Then he grabbed the matches, opened the cabinet beneath the drawer, and removed a couple of candles. Taking the items to the coffee table in front of the couch, he arranged the candles, removed their glass lids, and lit a match. The aroma filled the air between his face and the glass as he touched the match to the wick. He breathed in the smell of vanilla and a memory of a kiss in the dark from years before flashed in his mind. It had been some time since he had revisited that vision but for nearly two years after Julia’s death, he found himself lingering on that evening with the curious sensation of a time traveler bent on warning himself that it would be the last night he would be in his wife’s arms.

  He knew he had no cause for it, but he felt a sudden pang of guilt. It was the first time he had felt it since Julia’s passing because he hadn’t felt so strongly about anyone until Kinsley.

  Kinsley, he thought, looking toward the stairs. He shook away the feeling and used the flashlight to make his way easily up to his bedroom.

  After taking a warm shower and putting on dry clothes, he went back downstairs. Kinsley was sitting on the couch in yoga pants and a long shirt, her hair drier now and pulled into a knot held together by something looking like chopsticks. She wore glasses while reading and glanced up when she heard him approach.

  “I heard you showering and decided it was a good plan. You were in there a while. I wasn’t sure if you were coming back out.” She closed the book and removed her reading glasses. “Is everything—are we okay?”

  He walked to her and rubbed his knuckles along her cheek. She reached and held his hand, watching him closely. “Just a little afraid … of the dark, I guess.”

  The front door suddenly slammed open allowing Nikki to hurry in. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “The wind got it out of my grasp. It’s sure stirring up a big one out here.” She closed the door and dropped her wet bag at her feet. The young woman was not as wet as Kinsley and Jared had been, but she had definitely gotten caught in it. Gesturing toward the candles, she asked, “Electricity out?”

  “Yep,” said her father, approaching her reaching for her bag.

  “Thanks, Daddy.”

  “I’ll put this in the laundry room.”

  “Ok, let me just dry off and I’ll be there to take care of it.”

  “Glad you’re home safe, sweetheart. Get dry and you can tell us about your weekend.”

  She looked at Kinsley. “And I’d like to hear about yours, too.”

  Jared dropped his daughter’s bag in the laundry room and then made his way to the chair next to the couch. As he sat, he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed that Nikki had returned when she did, or relieved.

  11

  The next morning brought a very wet ground, but the sun was bright, and the air was hot and humid. They had gotten up before dawn and had finished loading the cattle with the help of the Adamsons’ neighbor, Carl, who was also the driver of the tractor trailer hauling the fifty-five head of prime beef. It was barely eight o’clock when Nikki and Kinsley climbed into the cab of Jared’s truck, the younger woman insisting on sitting by the door. After thanking Carl, Jared climbed behind the steering wheel, and soon the truck was headed to the stockyard about twenty miles east.

  Their route took them along the same road where Kinsley had broken down. He thought back to that day and how long ago it suddenly seemed. It felt almost impossible that he had only known the woman sitting next to him for less than a week.

  “Hey, that’s where Ethel and I broke down,” she announced, looking over Nikki’s shoulder through the passenger window. She allowed a mischievous smile spread across her face as she looked at Jared. “You know, I’ve been thinking,” she said. “I know this is a small town and all, but I understand J.J.’s a good mechanic and it’s not like we’re in the middle of nowhere. It shouldn’t be taking this long.”

  Jared swallowed, trying to hold back his own grin at the woman sitting next to him. His daughter looked back at her companions. “I think this is all a prank set up by Ethel. There was a reason she wanted you to stop here, Kinsley. She might know something we don’t.”

  “That’s just like her,” laughed Kinsley. Jared caught her winking at him out of the corner of his eye and realized Kinsley was going to let his daughter off the hook. They arrived at the sale barn and turned onto a road that curved around to the back of the stockyard pens. Some cattle already in the pens bawled loud and constantly, while others chewed hay and stood placidly. They drove past an alley where trailers thirty-two feet and shorter unloaded. Jared stopped next to a concrete ramp with a fence on both sides and an arched cover over the top. Carl drove by them, and then backed the rig up to the ramp. Two workers from the sale barn came up and one climbed up the side of the ramp to open the gate on the trailer. “Adamson,” Jared said to the worker who stood by him on the ground.

  The college-age kid nodded his head and asked how many heads.

  “Fifty-five,” he answered. The calves were crowding down the ramp and into an alley where they were counted and double checked as to whether they were steers, bull calves, or heifers.

  Carl shut the trailer gate as the last steer went down the ramp. He waved at Jared and was gone. He had several other loads of cattle to pick up. Cattle would still be arriving throughout the day, even as the sale started and went on and Carl would be hauling away for the buyers well into the night.

  Jared went into the covered area where his cattle were being checked and counted. “I want to No-Tag them,” he said. The kid writing up the receipt for the cattle nodded. The steers would not be tagged individually, but would instead be sold in bunches of six to ten head. They would be grouped based on their size, conformation, and other common characteristics.

  Three Blue Heeler dogs with bandanas around their necks ran up and down the alley barking and nipping at the calves, surprisingly efficient in keeping the calves moving. Two of the dogs were missing pieces of their ears, while a third missed about three inches of his tail. The owner of the stockyard walked up, chewing on a toothpick. He shook hands eagerly with Jared, then kicked lightly at one of the dogs. All the dogs ran over to him and he relented and scratched their ears. He and Jared talked about the cow market and feed prices for a few minutes, before the kid brought Jared’s copy of the receipt. The owner shook Jared’s hand again and thanked him profusely for his business. This was not the only sale barn in the area, and the Adamson farm was well known and well thought of.

  As Jared stuck the receipt in his shirt pocket and climbed back into the truck with the women he called to his female companions. “Let’s go get some coffee. They’ll sell the mature cows first, so it will be a couple of hours before they sell t
he calves.” They went to the stockyard café and grabbed a rare empty booth. They ordered coffee and donuts famously served in heavy crock cups and saucers. They tried to start a conversation, but there was a constant stream of cattlemen and buyers going in and out who stopped to shake Jared’s hand and grin at the girls. A well-known cow buyer out of Oklahoma wearing a black Stetson hat, starched white shirt, and starched blue jeans came by and shook hands with Jared before mumbling something about getting back to the sale as he shoved a cheeseburger into his mouth and dodged mustard dripping toward his shirt.

  There was an overwhelming plethora of characters, sight, sounds, and smells. Nothing prepares anyone for the first time they walk into a sale barn. The trio pushed into the barn, and a wave of sound and bright light hit them. The smell of cattle was overwhelming, and the noise was like a tractor or truck pull. The auctioneer waving his hand and pointing as he picked out bidders and squeezed every dollar he could for the sellers was front and center. He rattled into a microphone that’s volume was so loud you couldn’t understand what he was saying. Jared turned, leaned toward the two women, and half-yelled, “Calves have just started selling. We got here just in time.”

  They found a seat on the stadium-style bleachers and Jared turned, “I’ll be right back.” He walked to the row of padded movie-theater-style seats that curved around the sale ring, affording the crowd an uninterrupted view of the cattle in the ring. This was where the buyers and big cattlemen sat, and they guarded their status there with jealous intensity. Jared walked down the aisle speaking to the other farmers and to buyers. Word of mouth travels fast and everyone knew that Jared had steers to sell. He sat down next to a buyer he knew was buying steers to take to Kansas and be turned onto wheat fields.