by Claire Adams
“Did you not just hear the conversation we had?” Garrett asked, a note of irritation in his voice. He started to walk over to the truck.
Ryan’s eyes widened. “Wait!” he said.
Garrett stopped. “What?”
“You can’t take the truck,” Ryan said.
“What do you mean I can’t?” Garrett said. “This is my truck. It won’t take me that long.”
“No, you just can’t.” His face was turning red.
Garrett looked at me and then back at Ryan. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but unless you give me a good reason why I can’t take this truck, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”
“I cut the brake line.”
He mumbled it, and for a second I thought I misheard him, because why the hell would he do something like that?
Garrett, though, did not. “You cut the brake line.” He stepped right up to Ryan, and waited until Ryan looked him in the eye before he continued. “Why in hell would you do something like that?”
“I . . . it was supposed to . . . .”
“Don’t pussy out, now,” Garrett said, a hard edge in his voice that I’d never heard before. “You had the balls to go out and do this in the first place; man up and tell me why.”
“Keith and Jacob wanted me to.”
A muscle in Garrett’s jaw twitched. “Why?”
“Because . . . because they wanted to get rid of him.” He looked at me. “They didn’t want him running this place.”
“And so you were going to try to kill him?”
“No!” Ryan shook his head. “No, I wasn’t going to kill him. I’m not a murderer.”
“But you assumed he wouldn’t notice the brakes had been tampered with until he was going too fast and tried to slow down. At which point the situation would be completely out of your control, so he very well could have been killed.”
“They just wanted him to get banged up. Maybe enough so he couldn’t work on the ranch anymore. Or, he’d get into an accident and total the truck and you’d fire him.”
“You’re a fool,” Garrett said. “You’re a fool and my two sons that put you up to this are fools. This isn’t like the goddamn movies—I’d know the second I braked for the first time that something was wrong.”
Ryan kicked the ground. “Keith said—”
“Keith’s a fool.”
Garrett took a step back but then narrowed his eyes. “Now that I’m learning of this little plan my sons hatched, it would probably be fair to assume that you and they were responsible for the other things that have been happening around here? The horse getting out? The water being left on? That poor girl’s saddle slipping?”
Ryan shot me a look. “Yes,” he said.
I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing, and I kept waiting to wake up. It had to be a dream; there was no other way.
But it seemed to be reality, because I could feel the hot sun beating down on the top of my head, could smell the hay and hear one of the horses in the pasture whinnying. If Ryan was telling the truth about all of this, then that meant I wasn’t going crazy. It meant I wasn’t losing my mind.
It also meant that I had broken up with Wren for absolutely no reason at all.
Garrett rubbed his hand across his face. “Well, I don’t know what to do,” he said. “Seems to me we’ve got quite a situation here. My sons—I’ll deal with them later. We could press charges and you could go to prison for this sort of thing, you know that?”
Ryan paled visibly. “It wasn’t supposed to be—”
Garrett turned me. “Ollie, what do you think we should do? You’re the one they were out to get with all of this. How do you feel about it?”
I felt like my head was spinning. It was too much to take in all at once, and I couldn’t even begin to think of what should happen to Ryan.
“I don’t know,” I said. I looked at Ryan. “Why did you do all this? Never mind me getting hurt—it could’ve been one of the guests. And Ditto! He’s dead. Why? Why would you do this for them?”
“They said if you were out of the picture then they’d put me in charge of running the ranch.”
Garrett laughed. “Now that’s a good one. Except my sons failed to take into account that I am still the owner.”
“They said they’d convince you to let them take the place over.”
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell, now.” Garrett shook his head. “I’ve got half a mind to call the authorities and have them take you in. But what I think we’re going to do instead is have you pack your shit and get the hell out of here. And don’t think that we ranch owners don’t talk, that we don’t know each other. You’re never going to find work on another ranch again, if I have anything to do about it. You took a gamble, son, and it didn’t work out. Now get the fuck out of here before I change my mind.”
“Yes, sir,” Ryan mumbled before he hurried off.
Garrett and I just stood there, neither of us saying anything. I could see how agitated he was, absorbing the full effect of Ryan’s words. It wasn’t so much the stuff that Ryan had done, but the fact that Keith and Jacob had put him up to it in the first place. It was hard to wrap my mind around.
“I’m sorry,” I said after a minute.
He looked at me, eyebrows raised. “What do you have to be sorry for? You’re not the one who should be standing here apologizing. Those shitbag sons of mine should.”
“They didn’t agree with having me back here. If I hadn’t come back, none of this would have happened.”
“That’s a shit way to look at it,” Garrett said. “You’re the best worker I’ve got. And this isn’t their ranch, and it never will be now. Goddammit.”
“I need to borrow your truck,” I said. All I could think of was Wren. I needed to see her.
Garrett nodded. “Go right ahead.”
I knew she wasn’t there the second I stepped through the doors. The place was full of customers, the whole counter was full, but I knew Wren was not working.
“Hey, be with you in one second,” Lena said as she rushed by. She looked up and saw that it was me.
“Oh,” she said. “Um, hi.”
“Is Wren here?”
“No.”
“Is she coming in later?”
Lena’s eyes darted from the left then to the right. “I might as well tell you!” she exclaimed. “She called the other day and said she wasn’t coming back!”
“What?!”
“I guess she just likes it out there so much! I don’t know what to think of it myself, or what’s going to happen here, but for now I’m just going with the flow and trying not to stress out!” Her voice was getting higher with each note. “I’ve got to get these dishes back to the kitchen.”
She rushed off and I just stood there, catching bits and pieces of the surrounding conversations. I turned and went outside, pulling my phone out of my pocket as I did so. It went straight to voicemail when I called. I thought about leaving a message but then hung up right as the beep was going off. What I needed to say wasn’t something you could leave in a message for someone. I had to say it to her in person.
Looks like I’d be going out to San Francisco, after all.
I was not a city person by any stretch of the imagination; I’d only been to Denver a handful of times, and I’d always been aching to get back to the ranch after a few hours.
Getting a ticket on such short notice meant I was paying an astronomical fee, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even bother to call Darren to tell him I was coming out; I figured I’d just get in touch with him once I arrived. I packed lightly, stuffing a few pairs of jeans and some work shirts and clean socks into a duffel bag.
San Francisco International Airport wasn’t actually located in San Francisco; it was south of the city, so I had to take a cab. I’d never been in a cab before, and it felt strange to be sitting in the backseat while the guy in the front drove, a plastic partition separating us. The red numbers on
the cab’s meter ticked up every few seconds.
“So . . . would you like to be more specific with where I’m taking you?” the cab driver asked after a minute. When I’d first gotten in, I’d only said I wanted to go to the city. I’d tried to call Darren but he hadn’t picked up, and now I wasn’t quite sure where I was supposed to go.
“Uh . . . well, I’m not too familiar with this place, is the thing.”
“Where are you staying?”
“With my brother.”
“Okay. Where does he live?”
“I don’t know.”
The cab driver looked at me in the rearview mirror, only his eyes and his eyebrows visible. He didn’t need to tell me how skeptical he was of my response.
“You don’t know,” he repeated.
“I don’t. I mean, I bet he’ll call me back soon, and then I’ll know. Where’s a popular spot people go?”
“I’ll take you downtown,” he said. “It’s a central area. The city isn’t very big anyway. Seven miles by seven miles. Did you know that?”
“I did not. That doesn’t seem very big at all.”
“So, wherever your brother lives, you won’t be too far. You can access BART, Muni, more cabs from downtown. Lots of restaurants, shopping. You don’t look like you’re someone who’s that interested in shopping, though. Where are you from?”
“Colorado.”
“Is this a vacation for you?”
“Sort of. The girl I broke up with is out here and I need to find her.” There was something about being in the cab, with the partition between us, his back to me, the scenery rushing by outside, something about all of that made it easy to talk. Maybe it was because I didn’t know the guy, maybe it was because I knew I’d never see him again, but I found myself overcome with the urge to tell him exactly what I was doing, and why. “I broke up with this girl that I was in love with, and I realize now that I shouldn’t have.”
“Mmm.” He nodded. “I have heard similar stories like this one. San Francisco is a very romantic city; if you are going to win someone back, this is one of the best places to do it.”
“That gives me some hope.”
“Why did you break up with this woman if you loved her so much?”
“I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“Sometimes, at the time, we think we’re doing the right thing, only to later realize that it wasn’t. I know the feeling well, my friend.”
“Yeah, except I knew at the time it wasn’t right. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I still went ahead and did it anyway.” Just saying it out loud made me realize how foolish I’d been.
The cab driver dropped me off in what I guessed was downtown. A trolley trundled by, commuters zipped past on bicycles, cars honked their horns. Families bustled around me, carrying shopping bags, holding their phones out to take pictures, I caught bits and pieces of a lively conversation in a language I couldn’t understand. There was so much happening, in every direction, it seemed. I felt my heart begin to speed up and I wondered if this had been a mistake, coming out here. I was standing there, amongst all these people, all this activity, yet I felt more alone than I ever had.
I didn’t know what else to do, so I took my phone out and checked to see if Wren or my brother had called me back. Neither of them had.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to bother you, but would you mind taking our picture?”
I looked up from my phone to see a young woman holding hers out to me. A guy was standing next to her, looking a little embarrassed.
“It’s really okay, you don’t have to—” he started, but the girl cut him off.
“Sean, he doesn’t mind. Do you?” The girl had wavy brown hair the breeze kept blowing across her face. She brushed it back and held her other hand out to me, palm down. A rather large diamond ring glittered on her ring finger. “He proposed to me this morning! At the Palace of Fine Arts. It was so beautiful! And I was completely surprised—”
“He doesn’t need the whole story,” the guy said, but he was trying not to smile and I could tell he was just as happy about the whole thing as she was.
“Sure,” I said, sliding my phone into my pocket. “I’d be happy to take your picture.”
“Thanks so much! I’m trying to document everything we do today, and I wanted to get a picture of us downtown. We’ll stand here so the Financial District is in the background.”
He put his arm around her, and they stood there, big grins on their faces, the tall buildings and skyscrapers rising in the background of the photo. I took a few pictures and then gave her the phone back.
“Thank you so much!” the girl said. “I hope you have a great day!”
I smiled and waved as they turned and started walking down the street. Her good mood was infectious, and I felt a renewed hope. I pulled my phone out of my pocket again and called Darren. It rang five times and then he picked up.
“Ollie?” he said. “Is that really you?”
“Hi. Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to keep calling you.”
“No, that’s fine, I would’ve picked up the first time but I was in the shower. What’s up? Everything okay?”
“I’m here,” I said.
There was a pause. “Here? Where do you mean?”
“Here in San Francisco. I’m . . . I’m downtown, I think. There’s lots of stores.”
“Wait, what? You’re really here?”
“Yeah. I know it’s probably unexpected, but . . . I needed to talk to Wren. Is she there?”
“No, she went out. I’m heading into the office for a little bit, so she went over to Golden Gate Park. She left maybe an hour ago. Why don’t you hail a cab and come up to the house? I’m at—”
“No, that’s okay. I’m going to go find her.”
“The park is pretty big. I’d say call her but she left her phone here. I think by accident, but maybe on purpose, who knows. Are you sure you don’t want to hang out here at the house until she gets back?”
“The whole reason I came out here was to talk to her.”
“By talk to her do you mean tell her you realized you two actually belong together?”
“Did she say something to you?”
“No. Well, she’s said plenty, but we’ve tried to keep you off limits in terms of topics of conversation. Which, if you want my opinion, is a good sign; if she was able to talk about you that means she’d be over you. Which I don’t think she is.”
“I’m hoping that’s the case. So, I’m just going to head over there. I’ll see you later on today though.”
I hailed a cab and told the driver I wanted to go to Golden Gate Park.
“Where in the park?” he asked.
“Um . . . I don’t know. Someone’s there that I need to find, but I don’t know where exactly she is. Just that she’s at Golden Gate Park.”
The cabbie gave me a skeptical look. “There’s a million places she could be then.”
“What’s a popular spot?”
“I’ll drop you off at the Conservatory of Flowers. Does she like flowers?”
“Um, I think so—”
“Of course she does—all girls like flowers. That’s as good a place as any to start looking, at least.”
As we drove, he kept looking at me in the rearview mirror, as if he thought he knew me or wanted to say something. I tried to ignore it at first but he kept doing it.
“Is there something you want to ask me?” I finally said, trying to keep my tone neutral.
He sighed. “I’m sorry; I know it probably seems like I keep looking back at you. Well, it seems that way because I am, but not for the reasons you think.”
“You know what I’m thinking?”
“I’m not gay. I’m not checking you out.”
“I wasn’t thinking that.” Though now that he mentioned it, I supposed it seemed as good a reason as any for him to keep looking back at me the way he was.
“Not everyone in this city is a homosexual.”
“I didn’t thi
nk they were.”
“So, that’s not why I’m looking at you.”
“Are you going to tell me why, then?”
He paused, and for a moment it seemed that after all that, he wasn’t going to tell me. He sighed again. “You’re not from around here, I can tell. So, that leads me to believe you’ve come out here to find some girl. Maybe some girl you met online, maybe some girl who broke your heart, I don’t know the details. But you came out here to find a girl, and for that reason, you remind me of me.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well, you’re sort of right. I was the one who broke up with her, but . . . I realized that was a mistake. I don’t know if it’s too late to do something about it.”
“It probably is,” the cabbie said. “It was for me, anyway. I came out here from Oklahoma. I was twenty, so that was, what, ten, fifteen years ago? It was a while ago, anyway. I’d broken up with my girlfriend because we’d been going out since freshman year of high school and I thought I needed to see what other fish were swimming in the sea. Which is a strange metaphor for me to use because I fucking hate swimming and I also hate fish. But that’s what kept repeating in my head at the time, and, if I recall correctly, those were actually the words I was foolish enough to utter to her. Well, let me be the first to tell you that there aren’t that many fish swimming in the sea, at least not in Carver, where we lived. So, I tried to get back in touch with her, with Annie, but she’d moved out here to San Francisco. You see, she’d always been happy living in Carver, liked being a small-town girl, but then she was so heartbroken over our break up that she decided she needed to do something drastic, so she moved out here.”
I shifted in the seat, a feeling of discomfort coursing through my gut. Obviously his story did not have the ending that he wanted it to, and there were quite a few similarities to my own.
“So, I came out here, just like you, feeling as out of place as you look. This also being at a time before everyone had cell phones, so matters were a bit more complicated. But I didn’t care. It took me almost three weeks of walking the streets, sitting in cafes, going in and out of stores, before I finally—finally!—found her. In Golden Gate Park, as a matter of fact. Not at the Conservatory of Flowers, though, no she was out on Martin Luther King Drive, rollerblading. She zipped right past me and would have kept on going but I called her name and she stopped. She was with another guy.”