by A. J. Wynter
“Suit yourself,” Russell said backing away. Once he was a couple of feet away, he felt released from her presence. It was as though she had some kind of force field around her. One that rendered him a complete blubbering idiot.
Russ brushed past Mary as she entered into the kitchen, but Mary grabbed onto Russ’s strong forearm. “Whoa Nelly, Floyd wants you to give Miss Sydney the tour.”
Russ sighed and mouthed, ‘Jesus Christ’ to Mary. She smiled and patted him on the arm.
Russ turned. He knew that Eddie and Carter would fight to the death, or at least until one of them broke a bone, to be alone with the new ranch hand. They were already down one man, they couldn’t stand to lose anymore.
“Alright, then. Let’s get this over with,” he said, motioning for Sydney to follow him.
Chapter 15—Sydney
Sydney’s first week at the ranch was a nothing short of a disaster. She sat on the hard, single bed in the shack at the back of the property, wishing for any semblance of a breeze to flutter the ratty plaid curtains, but they hung heavily in the still, hot air.
Dusk had only provided a few degrees of relief from the heat, and Sydney was exhausted. She sat down on the edge of the bed and peeled off her soaked t-shirt. She took a swig from her water bottle and sputtered. She could’ve steeped a tea bag in it, the water was so warm.
“What have I done?” she wondered to herself.
She felt so alive when she arrived at Blackgum ranch. It had been the first time in her life where she’d stepped out and done something for herself, but she was worried that she could be making a terrible, terrible mistake. Her mom was so disappointed, she couldn’t even look at her when she left. And she knew that her dad was letting her do this because he thought she’d quit.
Could he be right? She wanted to quit, but she had put so much on the line to be here. She just didn’t know if she could tough it out for the next few months.
Floyd seemed like a nice man. A bit old-fashioned, but he was kind to her. The two ranch hands, Eddie and Carter, kept undressing her with their eyes and falling over each other to do things for her. After her experience with Derek, she knew that they just want to get her into bed. And Russell. Where did she start with him? She didn’t know why he hated her so much.
He was the only one who really knew anything about horses but made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in helping her train them.
Her week wasn’t a total waste, she was able to rope Applesauce again, and she could feel the horse getting more comfortable with her. As a matter of fact, Applesauce is the only reason she wanted to stay. She knew that she was going to be a great horse.
The spark she felt when she arrived had been totally dampened. She missed her horses, she missed her bed, and she missed her non-fat almond milk lattes. Russell hadn’t gotten the name right when he mocked her, but she couldn’t remember the last time she drank dairy, let alone raw milk. And bread, nobody at Glenfern eats gluten.
Sydney sat up and sighed, taking another drink of her warm water. “No more complaining,” she said quietly, “I’m not a spoiled brat. I can do this.”
Working with Applesauce had been the highlight of her week. She wanted to get her to the point where she could put a saddle on her, and then start with the next horse. She already had her eye on him. He was the biggest of the bunch and was going to be a challenge, but she figured if she could break him, she could break them all.
She looked around the spartan cabin. The rough-hewn wood plank floors would give her splinters if she went barefoot, the mattress was thin and hard, the only light a dim tiny bedside lamp. There was an old record player on the lone table, but no records to be found. She didn’t want to admit to Russell that she had never used an outhouse, although she had had her fair share of outdoor showers. But they were usually on the back of a yacht.
She looked out the window and saw the ranch hands’ bunkhouse across the field, lights glowing in the windows. The ranch hands weren’t back when she had gone to the main house for dinner, and she had eaten in solitude. The meal was surprisingly delicious, thick beans and cornbread, and she wolfed it down and helped herself to a second bowl. She lingered in the kitchen, hoping for some company, although she wasn’t sure which of the characters she wanted to socialize with: the old man, cranky Mary, or Casanova numbers one or two. She did know that if Russell walked through the door, she would get up and leave.
She had asked him several questions about the horses and he had either grunted or pretended not to hear her. After the ranch tour, he had dropped her at the barn and sped off in a cloud of dust.
Sydney pulled on a tank top. She had to get out of the sweatbox cabin. She stepped outside with a flashlight but didn’t turn it on. She walked toward the bunkhouse, unsure of what she was going to do when she got there. She saw two silhouettes through the window and when she got close enough to hear voices, she heard laughter; raucous, loud male laughter. If Russell was in there she’d be shocked. He didn’t seem capable of smiling, let along laughing. She took a deep breath, steeled her nerves, and knocked on the door. She needed to make some allies on the ranch if she was going to last, and these two seemed like her best bet.
The music was loud and the laughter uninterrupted, so she stepped forward nervously and banged harder on the door. She was about to turn and leave when the door swung open with Eddie standing in its frame, holding onto a sweating beer bottle by the neck. He grinned when he saw her.
“Who’s there?” Sydney heard Carter’s voice call out.
“Well, come on in, little lady,” Eddie said, bowing slightly to Sydney and sweeping his arm theatrically. “It’s Sydney,” he yelled to Carter.
Sydney stepped into the cabin, it was much larger than hers, with two sets of bunk beds on either side, and it had an oscillating fan, placed in the center, like royalty, it provided a moment of glorious relief from the heat as it passed by her.
“Have a seat,” Carter said, smiling at her. He was sitting on the top bunk without a shirt on, a leather necklace hanging loosely from his thick neck. Sydney looked around for a spot to sit and sat down gingerly on the only bed that was made.
“Where’re your manners?” Eddie slapped Carter’s dangling leg. He grabbed the pile of shirts and jeans from the only chair in the room and tossed them on the floor. “M’lady,” he smiled.
“I’m fine, I’m comfortable here,” she said, rubbing her hands on the well-worn quilt.
Eddie twisted the cap off a beer and handed it to Sydney. Sydney still hadn’t forgotten what happened to her the last time that she drank, and had sworn that she would never drink again, but the feel of the ice-cold bottle in her hand felt so good. She took a big swig of the cold beer and it was the best thing she had drank in her entire life. She wanted to rub the cold bottle across her face and chest but knew that could be misinterpreted by the two young cowboys as flirtation. Just as she dismissed the idea, Carter rolled his bottle across his chest and then chugged the entire thing. Sydney had to admit that the young cowboy, both of the young cowboys, were extremely hot.
Both were built like football players, their defined pecs and washboard abs created from hours riding and working, rather than being sculpted in a gym. If tall, dark, and handsome had a picture in the dictionary, it would be of Eddie. Carter looked like he could be equally as comfortable on a surfboard as on a horse, with his shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes.
“Rough week?” Carter smiled, swinging his legs in the air.
Sydney didn’t know whether to be honest with the ranch hands and tell them how tough it had been, or to lie and pretend that everything was great. She decided to go somewhere in between. “It was okay, I was able to rope one of the mustangs again. I think that I’m going to make some progress with her. I’m not so sure about the others though.”
“The female, with the brown patch over her eye?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah,” Sydney replied, surprised that he guessed it right.
“Russ
has been working with that one too. Sees something special in her,” Eddie said, draining his beer and grabbing another.
“Oh, he does, does he?” Sydney was surprised, and a little disappointed. Perhaps she wasn’t the only reason that Applesauce was turning into such a great horse.
“Yeah,” Carter drawled, “He sure was pissed when Floyd put you in charge of breaking the horses and demoted him to fence duty,”
“Oh,” Sydney said softly, suddenly understanding why Russell didn’t want her around. “I didn’t know.”
“He’ll get over it,” Eddie said.
“You think?” Carter replied. “He might be able to get over Sydney stealing his cabin, but I don’t think he’s ever going to be okay being replaced with those horses.”
“I stole no one’s cabin,” Sydney said. “It was given to me.”
“Yeah, like Floyd was going to have you bunk up in here with us,” Carter laughed. “Although, if you want to switch, I’m sure Russell would be all over it.”
The pieces were starting to fall into place. Sydney had replaced Russell. She had taken his job and his home. No wonder he hated her guts. She felt bad about the cabin, but not bad enough to give up her space and move in with the bachelors; but the horses, she knew what it felt like to be connected to a horse, to have someone else come in and undo or try to change all the work that you’d done. She got it. She’d hate herself too.
“I think I’ll stay put across the way,” Sydney smiled at Carter.
He gave her an ‘aw shucks’ look. “Can’t blame a guy for askin’,” he said, flashing her his million-watt smile.
The three of them fell into easy conversation about the ranch, and Sydney loved hearing stories about crusty Mary. She realized that they were just young men, boys practically, and they both could’ve walked away from the ranch and onto a Calvin Klein runway. But the attraction she was feeling toward the duo was more of a sibling connection. Almost like they could be the brothers she never had.
She finished her beer and pondered asking Floyd if Russell could help with the horses. After all, he seemed to be doing amazing work with Applesauce. Maybe the two of them together could be an effective team. Her thoughts were interrupted as the cabin door swung open and Russell stood in the doorway covered in dust.
“Boys,” he said, nodding to the two cowboys. “Have we given Princess Sydney my bunk as well?”
Shit. Sydney hadn’t even thought about whose bunk she had been sitting on. It made sense now, the rest of the cabin was a disheveled mess, and this bunk was impeccably made with a stack of clothes folded perfectly on the stand beside it.
“I should go,” Sydney said standing. She handed her beer bottle to Eddie. “Thank you for the drink.”
“Ah, Syd, you don’t have to go just because Mr. Personality showed up,” Carter said, reclining on his bunk.
Sydney waited for Russell to agree, to apologize, to acknowledge her, but there was nothing.
“Thank you for the beer. Good night boys,” she said and got out of the cabin as fast as she could.
She was shaking with anger as she made her way across the meadow. She couldn’t believe that she had contemplated speaking to Floyd on Russell’s behalf. So, what, if she had taken his job and his cabin? Both had been given to her. She could understand why he was upset, but it wasn’t her damn fault. If he should be angry and snarly to anyone, it should be Floyd.
She realized that she forgot her flashlight in the bunkhouse, but the full moon was rising, casting its blue spotlight across the fields. All of a sudden there was another light source. A vehicle crested the hill in front of her and made its way toward Sydney. Her heart started to race, and she scanned the meadow for places to run or hide. Her brain alternating between fight or flight.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she recognized the silhouette inside as Floyd. She jogged toward the truck as it approached.
“Get in,” Floyd barked.
Sydney grabbed the handle of the passenger door and pulled, it wouldn’t open. She pulled again as hard as she could.
“Door’s broke. Get in the back.”
Sydney nodded her head and jogged to the back of the truck, unsure about the best way to get in. Did she open the tailgate, or just hop over?
“Today, Sydney,” Floyd yelled.
Syd stepped onto the bumper and barrel-rolled over the tailgate, landing in the dirty truck bed with a thud. As she tried to right herself, Floyd stepped on the gas and she slid to the back of the truck. She sat up and brushed the straw off of her pants.
“What’s going on?” she yelled to Floyd through the busted rear window.
“Bison,” Floyd yelled.
“What about the bison?” Sydney said, her voice ragged with the vibration and bumps of the rough field road as they reached the bunkhouse.
The guys burst out of the cabin and all three leapt over the side of the truck like gazelles. As Floyd sped off into the night, there was an air of excitement and anticipation in the back of the truck. Sydney looked to the three men and saw Carter and Eddie’s smiles lighting up the night. Russell leaned into the cab to talk to Floyd then eased back against the wheel well and slung his arm over the side of the truck. Where Eddie and Floyd had an excited energy about them, Russell seemed calm and collected.
“What’s going on?” Sydney hated to ask, but she needed to know why she was speeding off into the night in the back of dirty pickup truck.
Russell pulled an old flip phone out of his chest pocket, flipped it open, and tossed it into Sydney’s lap. She released one of her hands from their death grip on the truck and looked at the screen, it was a text message. All is said was:
Bison at Jimmi’s.
“What does that mean?” Sydney shouted. She was appalled at the communication on the ranch. How did they ever get anything done? She handed the phone back to Russell.
“Jimmi is our neighbor. He’s what do they call it? Eccentric?” Russell said. “The bison have escaped, and they are wreaking havoc on his broom cornfield.”
Eddie laughed and shouted, “Eccentric? The man’s batshit crazy.”
Russell turned to Sydney, his eyes filled with concern, “Yeah, he’s a crazy old loon, and he’ll shoot our whole herd to protect his damn fields.”
“Oh no,” Sydney gasped. She knew that the loss of the herd would be devastating to the ramshackle operation.
The truck pulled up to the red barn and Russell slapped her thigh. “Get out.” Sydney looked at him questioningly. “Now.”
She felt the urgency of the situation and tried her best to hop out of the truck gracefully. Her exit was better than her entrance and she triumphantly stomped the landing.
“First time?” Russell smiled at her.
She didn’t know if he was being a jerk, the guy was so damn hard to read.
“Yes.” She decided to own it.
The truck took off into the night and Russell rushed into the barn, Sydney hot on his heels.
“Russ,” she said.
He didn’t turn or acknowledge her.
“Russ,” she said a little louder.
Still no response.
“Goddammit,” she yelled and grabbed his forearm stopping him in his tracks. “What are we doing here?”
Russ turned to face Sydney, his eyes glanced down to her strong grasp on his arm, “Isn’t it obvious, Princess? We’re going midnight roping.” He grasped her wrist with his other hand, freeing his arm from hers. She felt the blood drain from her face and a wave of adrenaline coursed through her body, leaving her fingers tingling.
“Now, saddle up Buttercup over there,” he said, pointing to an Appaloosa.
Sydney didn’t know whether it was the rush of what she was about to do, or if it was the tingling from Russell’s touch, but her heart was racing, and she’d never felt more alive in her life.
Chapter 16 – Russell
Russell didn’t know why he held Sydney’s hand a second or two longer than he should have. Her soft s
kin silk was like a magnet for his calloused palm. His life had gotten exponentially worse since the blonde set foot on the ranch and he couldn’t wait for her to get the hell out of his cabin. He shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t get fooled by her pretty green eyes. She was from another world, one that couldn’t be further from his.
He hated to admit it, but the girl knew how to saddle up a horse and fast. Her fancy shiny equestrian boots looked odd against the worn rawhide western saddle, and he wondered if her upright riding style would throw off the old girl.
“Follow me,” Russell shouted, clicking his teeth and urging his black horse out into the warm night air. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, summoning Freckles and the other cattle dogs. The ropes were really for show. The dogs did all the work, but Sydney didn’t have to know that.
Sydney expertly maneuvered Buttercup through the fencing. Russell turned to face her and smiled, “Try to keep up, Princess.” His horse reared up and nickered, then he took off at an aggressive gallop. He knew that it was a show-off move but didn’t care. He loved the feel of the warm wind and the power of the horse as he galloped beneath him.
He slowed his horse and turned to wait for Sydney but was shocked to find her hot on his tail.
“You said to keep up,” she smiled.
He hated to admit that he was impressed. Neither Eddie nor Carter could’ve coerced Buttercup to keep that pace. The pack of five dogs led by the alpha, Freckles, wound around the horses’ legs, anxious to be put to work.
“We’re almost there,” Russ said, tossing her a lasso. She reached out and caught it mid-air.
“What’s this for?” she asked.
“Roping bison, what do you think it’s for?”
“I-I’ve never done this before,” she said, her voice quivering as she fingered the leather rope in her hand.
“Oh, just hold on and pray,” Russ said and winked at her. Then he noticed that she didn’t have gloves on. He knew that she probably wore white leather riding gloves and that her hands, though experienced, would likely be ruined after the night they were going to have. He sighed, pulled his work gloves off and tossed them to her. To his surprise, she snagged them out of mid-air.