by A. J. Wynter
“I always come around, you know that.” Lainey smiled in the mirror as she applied a layer of mascara. She turned to face Syd, “You, on the other hand, look like hell.”
Syd caught her own reflection in the mirror and realized that she had really let herself go during exams. Her eyebrows were bushy and unkempt, but not in a trendy way. In more of a Frida Kahlo kind of way. Her blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, with a piece of straw sticking out from the top. Next to Lainey, who had managed to transform from a hungover, homeless-looking person to a supermodel, Syd looked like a disheveled and overwhelmed mom who hadn’t slept in three days.
“I know. I just have other things on my mind,” Syd said, pulling at her sweatshirt.
“Oh no, Syd,” Lainey said, standing to embrace her friend. “I don’t believe it. What was your mark?”
“I don’t know. I can’t bring myself to look.”
“Oh. My. God,” Lainey said and strode past Syd, grabbing her hand and dragging her back to her dorm room. “You can’t be a sulky negative Nelly when you don’t even know your grade. I’ll let you wallow if it’s warranted, but right now, you’re not even the Syd I know. Now, sit down and let’s find out,” Lainey ordered, pointing to Syd’s desk chair.
Syd knew that Lainey was right. She couldn’t hold off forever. She sat down and jiggled her mouse to wake her computer screen up, the login screen for exam results still active. She took a deep breath and clicked on the ‘submit’ button; there they were, the courses from her entire college career. She scanned down the list, she knew all of the grades by heart – none of them were under ninety percent. Her eyes reached the latest entry and when she saw it she moaned and crumpled in her chair as if all of her bones had just turned to Jell-O.
Lainey rushed to her friend’s side and embraced her tightly in a bear hug. “It’s okay, Syd,” she said and pulled an errant piece of straw from her hair. Then she turned to the screen, “Wait, your last exam was Biochem?”
Syd looked up at Lainey, her eyes welling with tears, “Yep.”
Lainey looked to the screen and then back to her friend and squealed. “You did it. Why are you crying?”
The grade beside Biochem 410, the last entry on Syd’s course list, was posted as 97%.
“It’s just such a relief,” Syd smiled through her tears. I guess I’m just overwhelmed. Everything I’ve worked for since I was a little girl, just came together right here.” Syd smiled lightly through her tears, then her eyes lit up and she grinned. “I did it,” she whispered, then a little louder, “I did it.” She launched from her chair, picked up Lainey and twirled the small woman around.
“Easy now,” Lainey said, grasping at her towel.
“I can’t believe it, I was prepared for the worse case scenario.”
“Plan for the worst, hope for the best? Is that what you were going for?”
“I guess so,” Syd said, setting her petite friend down on the ground.
Syd was 5’10” and even though she looked thin, she was full of muscle and strong as hell from working in the barn. The haybales weighed about fifty-five pounds and she could throw them around like they were bags of Styrofoam.
“Well, you know what that means?” Lainey asked, her eyes sparkling.
“That my application for med school is a sure thing?” Syd responded, her eyes equally full of excitement.
“Well, duh, that goes without saying. YOU are going out to celebrate tonight. You don’t have to study, you don’t have to get up for class, you don’t have an excuse not to go out with me tonight.”
It was true, Syd had spent the last four years refusing to go to parties with Lainey. She had made a few exceptions, but always stuck to one drink and was home in her dorm bed before ten p.m. every single time.
She hesitated, then replied, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Lainey smiled. “You’re really going to come? You don’t even know what we’re doing.”
Syd took a deep breath. She needed to step out of her comfort zone, and since she wasn’t going to see Lainey all summer, she wanted to spend some time with her. “You know what? I don’t care what you’re doing. I’m in.”
“Eeeee!” Lainey squealed, stamping her bare feet excitedly on the hardwood floor.
“But, I promised Cowboy and Dorito I’d be back to take them for a ride,” Syd said, remembering her promise to her horses.
“That’s ok. We’ll start pre-drinking here while I help you with your makeup.”
“I don’t need any help, Lainey,” Syd replied.
“Ummm. Yeah, ya do,” Lainey smiled. “You look like you just fell off a wagon, not the drinking kind. A real bonafide stinky, dirty wagon.
Syd knew that Lainey only had her best interests at heart and started to feel excited about putting on some makeup and being a real college girl for once, even though it had taken her four years.
“I’ll meet you back here at seven and we can get started,” she smiled.
“I can’t wait, I’m so excited,” Lainey said and then ran back to her room.
Syd smiled but realized that while a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders, she still had a feeling of unrest. She was relieved that her grades were going to be good enough for a solid med school application, but after everything she had been through, everything she had done, something didn’t feel right.
She knew the only thing that could take her mind off her unrest was to get out for a hack with her boys. She closed her computer and rushed out of the historic limestone residence, excited to share her news with Cowboy and Dorito.
Chapter 4 – Russell
Russell’s eyes opened thirty seconds before the rooster called out. His body always seemed to know exactly when dawn was about to break. It was his favorite time of day, a time when the world, with the exception of the damn rooster, was just coming to life, or still asleep. It was a truly quiet time when he could be alone with his thoughts – which was both a blessing and a curse.
He got out of bed and walked into the bathroom, where he looked into the mirror and saw that there were crinkles forming beside his eyes and that his skin was starting to take on a permanently tanned hide-like tone. I’m too young to have wrinkles, he thought to himself, but he had never worn sunscreen a day in his life, relying only on his wide-brimmed Stetson to shade his face.
He splashed cold water on his face and wondered if he would still be waking up in this same Bunkie when he was an old man like Floyd. He sighed, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but he felt like there was more to the world than living in a tiny shack at the back of the ranch. He shook his head, he couldn’t feel sorry for himself. And hell, he was lucky enough to get his own Bunkie with running water – the rest of the ranch hands all bunked together and shared a communal bathroom.
He pulled on his jeans, a white tank top, and tucked his plaid snap-front shirt into his pants. He smiled as he buckled his belt, the huge rectangular buckle had been one of the first prizes he’d won bull riding, and just wearing it brought him back to the ring.
Bull riding had been tough, but breaking Floyd’s new horses was proving to be tougher. He was tired after repairing the fences all day and then dealing with the timid and fearful horses all evening. It was all he could do to stumble into his outdoor shower and then fall into bed.
He walked into the main house and was met with the smell of sausage and eggs. He thanked Mary as he always did, and she grunted at him like she always did. He sat at the table and had finished his breakfast before Eddie and Carter sauntered in.
“Whew, you missed a good time last night,” Eddie said as he piled the scrambled eggs high on his plate.
“Yeah, the Country Kiln was rockin’,” Carter said. “They had this band in from the city and the fiddle player, she was somethin’ else,” he grinned.
Russell looked up from his empty plate at the duo. They looked rough, especially Carter, who was sporting a black eye and missing a tooth. “What the hell happened to
you?” Russell asked as he stood up. “And where’s Brody?”
“Brody’s hurting today,” Eddie said through a mouthful of toast.
Carter grunted, took a bite of sausage, and then said, “Not sure if he’ll be able to work today, actually.”
“You know you guys eat like farmhands, right?” Russell said. He had grown up poor, but his family had table manners. He wouldn’t dare rest his elbows on the dinner table, let alone talk with his mouth full.
Eddie grinned, and then said, while chewing, “We are farmhands!” and Carter laughed with him.
“What do you mean, Brody might not be able to work today? We need the three of you guys out there today,” Russell said. They were already running a skeleton crew and the loss of their strongest guy would set them back hours, or even days.
Russell heard the screen door creak open and Brody stepped in holding his left arm in his right. Carter’s face and black eye looked pristine next to Brody’s. His one eye was swollen shut and the other was the darkest shade of purple Russell had ever seen. His lip was split, but the worst part, it looked like Brody’s hand was broken.
“Holy shit, Brody. What happened to you? It looks like you need to go to the hospital,” Russell said and stepping toward the youngest ranch hand.
“I’ll be fine,” Brody said and brushed past Russell.
Russell noticed Brody shoot Carter a death stare and saw that Carter wouldn’t look at him. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the two of them had gotten into a drunken brawl, and clearly Carter had come out on top.
“You two fight over the fiddle player?” Russell asked.
“Did they ever,” Eddie said, clearly enjoying the drama. “Can you tell who won?”
“Who got to go home with the fiddle player?” Russell asked.
“Neither of ‘em. She looked like she was into Brody, but then Carter stepped in to try to claim her. When Carter tossed Brody over the picnic table and spilled her beer, she left, and those two idiots kept fighting.” Eddie took another bite of his toast and a huge swig of coffee.
Russell had been in his fair share of bar brawls, so he couldn’t judge the young ranch hands. Women were few and far between in these parts, and he had blackened some eyes over a few traveling musicians himself. But when he noticed that Brody couldn’t pick up his fork, or hold his coffee cup, he got angry. They couldn’t afford to lose a guy, especially the only one who was any good at breaking horses – Brody.
Floyd walked into the kitchen and all the guys looked up at him. Brody winced and tried to hide his battered arm behind his back. Floyd looked at them all, “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing, Floyd. Just getting a little chow,” Brody said.
Mary waddled in from the kitchen. “They’s lyin’ to ya,” she said. “The black-haired one needs to go to the hospital.”
Brody cut his eyes at Mary and then looked back sheepishly at Floyd. “Sir, I hurt my hand last night.” He pulled his hand from behind his back and presented it to Floyd. It barely resembled a hand, it was swollen, and twenty different shades of purple and yellow. His index finger was bent at a very unnatural angle.
“I’ll take him,” Mary sighed and threw the kitchen towel over her shoulder.
“You boys fightin’ over a woman?” Floyd said, looking at Carter.
Carter didn’t answer, only stared deeper at his half-empty plate of breakfast. “Some things never change,” Floyd said. “Mary, drop Brody off at the hospital.” Then he turned to Brody, “Come back and pack up your things.”
Brody’s mouth dropped open, “But, Carter, he started it.”
“I don’t care who in hell started it,” Floyd shouted, startling everyone in the room. “Carter’s hand still works, and yours don’t. You’re no good to me, and I can’t have you boys livin’ together if you’re just going to beat the shit out of each other. One of you has to go, and it’s nothing personal, son, but you’re not going to be able to use that hand for a long time.” Floyd said, motioning to Brody’s limp hand with his coffee cup.
Brody started to protest, but Floyd just turned and walked out the front door.
“You piece of shit,” Brody sneered at Carter.
“The old man has picked me, and ya gotta listen to him,” Carter said, continuing to concentrate on his plate and eating.
Brody lunged at Carter, but Russell stepped in front of him. “Go with Mary, get your hand fixed. Let me talk to Floyd.”
The ranch hands had been taking instruction from Russell for three years and he knew that they looked up to him like an older brother. The four got along for the most part and fought amongst themselves like siblings. He wondered if Floyd was feeling the pressure of the workload on the ranch and had taken it out on Brody. He needed Brody to help with the mustangs, so he planned to wait until Floyd had calmed down, and then talk him into hiring Brody back on.
“Alright,” Brody said, relaxing his body, and then a little quieter, “Thanks, Russ.”
“No guarantees, buddy, but I’ll try,” Russell said and patted the huge boy on the shoulder. Russell was 6’4” and so was Brody, but Brody had to outweigh him by a good seventy-five pounds. The ranch couldn’t afford to lose such a strong worker.
Brody walked out the front door with Mary and Russell turned to the remaining two.
“Finish up your breakfast and let’s get a move on,” he shouted. Then he turned to Carter, “I know that you started that fight, and you just cost the ranch our best worker. You better pull your weight today.”
Carter cleared his throat and shoveled the last bite of food into his mouth. He nodded at Russell and put his cowboy hat on. “I’ll be out at the back forty,” he said, rinsing his plate off in the sink.
“Good. I’ll meet you there. You too.” Russell said, pointing at Eddie.
He turned on his heel and strode out to catch up with Floyd, determined to convince the old man to reconsider firing Brody.
“Floyd,” he shouted.
Floyd stopped and sighed. “I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is no.”
“What was I going to say?” Russell replied, but Floyd knew him well.
“That we need Brody.”
“We do need him.”
“We need someone who can break those horses,” Floyd said, nodding his head towards the barn filled with the bucking and whinnying horses.
“Brody’s the best of the three.”
“Yeah, but he ain’t you. We need a whisperer here.”
“Well, where the hell are we going to find one of those?” Russell said.
“I need you to put an ad in the newspaper or on that interweb thing,” Floyd said. “He grasped Russell’s forearm. “We can’t pay much, but I’m willing to offer free room and board now that we’ve got a free bunk in the bunkhouse.”
Russell thought that Floyd might have been losing his mind, Professional horse trainers were expensive, but the old man was set in his ways. Russell decided to post an ad for an experienced trainer, and when they couldn’t find one, he could convince Floyd to take Brody back on. Maybe by then, his hand would’ve healed enough to do some actual work.
“Alright, Floyd. I’ll do it,” Russell agreed. “And, it’s called the internet,” he said.
“Intraweb, shminterweb, I’m too old to care,” Floyd smiled and walked off into the red horse barn.
Russell headed into the house into Floyd’s office and flicked on the old computer. He found the biggest networking group he could, he needed to send the advertisement far and wide, so that when they didn’t find any suitable candidates, he could prove that he had done his due diligence.
He slowly typed in the job description, two-finger style, ‘experienced horse trainer required immediately, live-in position, wage to be determined.’
Before he pressed send, he added ‘talk to Mary’. He smirked, knowing Mary would be ticked at having to check the messages, and then headed out to start his long day.
Chapter 5 – Syd
ney
Sydney shifted from side to side, her feet unaccustomed to heels. When she wasn’t in her riding boots, her footwear of choice was her Converse All-stars. While most of her colleagues wore expensive loafers and Sperry Topsiders, some even wore stilettos, Sydney valued function over form. She walked everywhere, and she thought her shoes looked cute with Glenfern’s signature uniform piece, a green and royal blue tartan kilt.
The black Jimmy Choos on her feet were Lainey’s, and they were half a size too small, but Lainey insisted that she wear them.
“Damn girl, with those shoes on, you’ve got to be over six feet tall,” Lainey exclaimed when Sydney tried them on. Lainey sidled up beside her to take in their reflection in the mirror, her head at Sydney’s shoulder. “Look, I think I surpass 5’5” with mine on.”
Sydney looked at her reflection and didn’t recognize herself. Gone were her horn-rimmed glasses and loungewear, replaced with ripped, black skinny jeans that hugged her muscular thighs and a simple black tank top. She was self-conscious about her black bra straps showing, but Lainey told her that it worked with her look and made her tits look great. She hadn’t had time to do her hair, so she had piled it on her head in a top-knot and applied some mascara and berry red lipstick.
“Got a moto jacket?” Lainey asked. “That would go perfectly with the whole bad-ass model look you’ve got going on right now.”
“Do I look like I have a moto jacket?” Syd asked her friend’s reflection.
“Sometimes, I wonder what you’ve got hidden in that closet of yours,” Lainey mused.
Sydney knew that there were rumors about her sexuality, likely due to the fact that she didn’t seem to have a preference at all. In high school, she had made out with a few guys, but it never turned into anything serious. There were a few guys that had caught her eye over her years at Glenfern, but she wasn’t interested in a casual hookup and knew that she didn’t have the time to devote to a relationship.