Untamed

by Shey Stahl

  “I’m gonna go make breakfast,” Mom says, leaving Morgan and me in my room.

  “What are you doing today for your birthday?” Morgan moves from my nightstand, to my bed, a smile plays at the corners of her mouth. She’s still in her pajamas, her hair tangled from sleep.

  “Well, I’m going to eat my donut first, and then do chores. Haylee’s going to come over too.”

  Morgan’s smile gets bigger, like she’s holding back a secret. “Are you going out?”

  Licking the chocolate from the donut, I hold the candle she stuck in there between my fingers, then I lick that too. “Maybe.” I don’t know why, but her smile makes me think of Grayer and I remember them talking in the driveway. “Hey, was that you talking to Grayer in the driveway last night?”

  She nods, still smiling, and leans forward to take a bite of my donut I offer her. “Yeah. I lost Chirp in his truck.”

  “Chirp?”

  “Yeah. The baby chick.”

  This isn’t the first time Morgan’s lost an animal. She had a baby bunny she’d found once and put him in the bathroom. Somehow he’d got himself into the heating vents and Dad had to tear it apart to get Bugs out.

  I smile at the memory. “Did he get it for you?”

  Her eyes sparkle when she says, “Yep. I like him. He’s nice and really cute.”

  You ain’t kidding. I like that Grayer’s nice to her.

  There’s a thump from down the hall followed by what sounds like something hitting Morgan’s bedroom door.

  She panics, her eyes wide. “I gotta go.”

  Laughing, I lie back on my bed. More than likely there’s a baby bull in her bedroom. Or maybe a donkey this time. You never know with her. I’m pretty sure she’s snuck half the animals on this ranch into the house and they follow her anywhere.

  Haylee comes over around noon. She parks behind Grayer’s truck and it gives my heart a flutter to know he’s here and I’m eighteen now. I know it’s silly of me, but I want to run outside, strip naked and yell, I’m eighteen, take me now.

  I won’t, because that’s not me, and my dad would kill me before I was ever able to leave town.

  Haylee and I grab a pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge, two mason jars, and the rum from the liquor cabinet when my mom’s not looking. It is my birthday and I deserve to celebrate, right?

  At least the spiked tea might make my chores a little better. My dad believes in work. He doesn’t believe in fucking around and acting like a kid. Unless your name is Morgan. Then you’re able to get away with everything under the sun. It doesn’t matter that today is my birthday. If there’s work to be done, it comes before anything else. Always has.

  As we stand outside, Dad gives me that look. There’s a part of the fence on the south property and he gestures to it. “That better get fixed today, Maesyn.”

  No happy birthday. No have a good day. Just, get to work.

  I know why the fence needs to be fixed. Haylee and I knocked it down last week when we went four-wheeling out there. So I guess, it’s understandable I’m the one designated to fix it.

  Groaning, I wrap my hand around Haylee’s shoulder and head for the barn. Just having her there with me makes it okay to work on my birthday.

  Grayer’s already working in the barn, but I haven’t seen him yet.

  He hears our giggles when we’re in the tack room, and then again when Haylee steals his box of nails, taunting him by holding them over her head. “I’m takin’ these, Eight Seconds.”

  A smirk pulls at his lips, but he doesn’t say anything, his eyes hidden in the shadows of his hat. Since he’s the king of avoidance, he ignores me completely and walks out of the barn.

  After we leave the barn, Grayer makes his way back inside and I can see him in there when we walk by, of course his shirt is off—I believe to tease me and make me drool. He’s swinging a hammer, every muscle in his back and arms flexing with each pass.

  Haylee lets her sunglasses slide down her nose. “Does he know you’re eighteen today and finally legal?”

  “Nope,” I say, popping the p on the end, smiling to myself as we walk, my boots crunching on the gravel driveway.

  She looks at me, righting her shades. “You gonna tell him?”

  “No. Danny’s comin’ over tomorrow. He’s gonna help me ride Hammer to impress him.” I had called Danny this morning because while I couldn’t sleep last night, I thought trying to ride Hammer might impress him.

  It’s essentially a bad idea, but it might work.

  “Since when have you ever rode a bull?” Haylee twirls the hammer in one hand, almost hitting herself in the face. She walks a little slower to get a good look at Grayer.

  “Well, I’ve never ridden a bull, but it’ll get his attention. Don’t you think?”

  “Maybe, if Hammer doesn’t kill you first.” She looks closer at Grayer, giving a shake to her head. “Damn . . . are all bull riders that hot?”

  “Not that I’ve seen at the rodeo.” I laugh, glancing over and untangling my necklace from my hair. “He has two brothers. I bet they look the same as him, but I don’t remember what they look like.”

  Haylee considers this and then looks at the broken fence we’re now standing in front of and the ruts we’ve dug up out here. “I can’t believe he’s makin’ ya do this shit on your birthday.”

  “It’s just like him.” I toss the box of nails on the ground in front of us and lay the boards against the fence. “Work has to be done regardless of what the calendar says.”

  “Four more days.”

  We fix the fence while blaring Pistol Annies, but all the while, I can see Grayer in the barn. He’s watching us and the more we drink that sweet tea mixed with rum, the less we’re fixing the fence and the more we’re bull riding the fence posts.

  That has Grayer’s attention. He even stops and leans against the side of the barn with his arms crossed over his chest, watching. Part of me wonders if he’s imagining fucking both of us. He wouldn’t be the first to imagine it—I know that for sure—or the first to ask for it.

  I throw my arm up over my shoulder, arch my back and move as “I Feel a Sin Comin’ On” plays. Same song that was playing in his truck that night. Grayer’s eyes on mine are like fire. They’re burning so bright I’m conscious of the heat sixty feet away.

  Are you thinking of me?

  Do you remember the way my kiss felt?

  “Fuck, I think I have a splinter.” Haylee grabs at her crotch, laughing. “Worst spot for one, too.”

  “No kidding, girl. Damn.” As I’m laughing at Haylee, the barn door slams shut. We both look over to see what he’s doing.

  “Maybe it was too much,” I tease, getting off the post. “We better get this done.” I motion to the fence and grab the hammer at my feet.

  We do, but it takes us the better part of the afternoon and Grayer never opens the barn door again.

  Just before dusk, we’re cleaning up and Grayer’s pulling out of the driveway.

  “What’s he doing for your dad anyway?” Haylee asks when we put the hammer and nails back in the barn along with the broken post.

  “Fixing the part of the barn that was damaged in the storm this last winter. Not only did Stanton, his dad, buy some cattle from us, but apparently that horse, Mac, was his dad’s horse too, and when he got sick, he couldn’t pay to take care of it. Dad’s been boarding him for free for years, so I guess Grayer offered to fix the barn.”

  “Noble of him,” Haylee says in an approving tone.

  We both watch the dust cloud when Haylee looks at me. “Where does he go when he leaves?”

  I shrug. “Don’t know.”

  A smile pulls at her cheeks. “You know what’s better than a party on your birthday?”

  I’m almost afraid to ask by the look of mischief she’s wearing. Haylee’s what I like to refer to as natural-trouble. When she’s up to trouble—as in trying to get into it—that’s when you know to be afraid. “What?”

  “Stalking
.” She nods to the driveway. “You up for it?”

  Why hadn’t I thought of that yet? You’d think I would have. It’s exactly the sort of thing I would do over a guy. Especially one like Grayer Easton. Maybe then I could get out of riding a bull.

  “I don’t know where he lives.”

  Haylee jingles her keys out in front of her. “I do. His dad lived a mile from me. Nice guy.”

  You’d think I would have known this, too, since I’d been taking care of Mac for so long, but I don’t. Goes to show you how clueless I can sometimes be. “How’d Stanton die?”

  “He had a stroke and it all kind of went downhill from there.”

  Haylee grabs the bottle of rum and the sweet tea off her tailgate, hiding them behind her seat.

  Rider Relief Fund, established in 1999, provides financial aid to bull riders whose careers are put on hold by injury. Resistol contributed more than $1 million in seed money to start the non-profit fund that helps professional, college, and high school bull riders and bullfighters who sustain injuries during competition. Money is raised via personal contributions and a variety of annual fundraisers including golf tournaments, silent auctions, and a blackjack tournament.

  Driving to Stanton’s ranch, Haylee points toward the Cascade mountain range. “If Mount Rainier blew up, would we all die?”

  I side-eye Haylee. “Why?”

  “I’m curious. I wish it’d blow up. Life around here is boring. We need a natural disaster, a hurricane, tornado, earthquake . . . somethin’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “People die in those, you know. Why would you wish for that?”

  “I don’t want anyone to die. I mean, the earth’s overpopulated for sure, but whatevs. I just want some excitement. When we lived in Wyoming, the biggest threat we had was the summer fires and the remote chance Yellowstone might blow up and kill the world.” She laughs. “Is that morbid of me?”

  “I’m really concerned with why you want that to happen.”

  “Think about hurricanes and tornados. Not only are they some of the most powerful destructive forces of nature, but they’re also fucking beautiful.”

  She’s right, to some degree. I remember reading about Mount St. Helens blowing up and the ash acted like fertilizer on farms over there and once they recovered, they ended up having some of the best crop seasons. I guess in a way, some good does come from disasters.

  When we get to Grayer’s dad’s ranch out toward the Yakima River, there’s a For Sale sign in the yard with a red SOLD sticker over it. It’s bare and looks as if almost everything has been moved out.

  “I asked around,” Haylee says, pointing to the sign. “Apparently, some investment company bought the land. They have until the end of the month to get Stanton’s stuff out of there before they’re turning all this land into a strip mall or some shit.”

  “What happened to his mom?”

  Haylee looks at me as we get out of the truck. “You’ve lived here longer than me. How do you not know this?”

  I shrug, kind of clueless. “I don’t know. I never really paid any attention to the Easton family, but I don’t even remember the brothers. And I went to grade school with them.” I laugh. But then I remember Jamie . . . and him being all that mattered in my life back then. I didn’t have friends growing up. I had Jamie. And when the Easton brothers left town four years ago, it was at that time in my life when I couldn’t have told you what day it was, let alone what was going on with the Ellensburg drama. When Jamie died, I quit eating, living. I might as well have been dead too.

  “Their mom died giving birth to Dani. I had English with her. She told me their whole life story. She’s a nice girl too. Little wicked at times, but she did grow up with three rowdy brothers.” And then Haylee smiles. “She’s feisty. Like you.”

  “That sucks about their mom.” The idea of their mom dying when they were so young makes me sad. I could never imagine being without my mom. She has always been the soft to the harsh demeanor of my dad. I wonder about Grayer’s mom and if he remembers her at all. He had to have been, what, five when she died?

  “They’ve had tough lives.”

  Haylee and I end up parking down the street and then walking a half mile back up the long dirt road that leads to the ranch. We’re totally intruding being on the property, yet from seeing this, I understand Grayer a little better. I’ve driven past this house a million times and never noticed it. Until now.

  The massive land dwarfs a modest white home. A covered porch wraps around the house, sagging in sections, with rotting rails and red paint. It’s like time had stopped on this ranch years ago and the land had taken over.

  My mind drifts to Grayer and what it must be like for him back in this house. He must have thousands of memories trapped here in the hazy air that settles around us. The setting sun shines through the back windows of the home and I wonder how many times Grayer sat on that porch and watched the sunset like I do from my bedroom window. The thought of him watching a sunset, finding beauty in the warm colors blanketing the night, it brings a smile to my face.

  We’re not out there but five minutes when we hear the low rumble coming up the road.

  Haylee’s eyes dart to mine. “Oh. Shit!” We scramble for the bushes along the side of the house.

  “Fuck.” I start to panic, my eyes wide. I pull my hair up into a messy bun. In case I had to run. I’ve had to run from the police more times than I care to admit—never caught by the way—and it’s been my experience to be prepared and have your hair dealt with beforehand. “What if he sees us? We’re trespassing.”

  Haylee gives me a scrunched look of concern, her freckled nose wrinkling. “Since when have you ever given a fuck about rules? And you’re eighteen. Walk in there and surprise him.” A grin tugs at her lips. “I’ll wait here.”

  “I bet you would.” I laugh, looking at the driveway debating on what to do. Haylee shoves my shoulder, but I don’t move as I contemplate the consequences. “He’d have me arrested for sure.”

  We watch through the branches as Grayer gets out of his truck with a six-pack and two boxes. He looks as hot as he always does, but for once, I have a good view of his face when he leaves his hat in the truck. It’s strange seeing his wavy golden-brown hair in the sunlight. And oh so adorable. I can picture him as a child, wild and tough, but with innocent eyes.

  He keeps his head down, walking toward the house, but his head shoots up when Haylee sneezes. Of all the times for her to sneeze. My hand flies to her face, my eyes once again wide with panic.

  He definitely heard that.

  Grayer pays no mind to the sound and walks inside the house. It takes us twenty minutes of arguing in the bushes—five of which Haylee threatens to scream—before we’re spying in the kitchen window, unable to stop ourselves.

  It’s wrong to spy on him, but like Haylee argued, what if he has his shirt off again. Then it’d be a shame not to.

  “You make a good argument, friend.”

  She sighs, brushing dirt and leaves from her bare knees. “Finally, you’re being reasonable.”

  Trying to be as quiet as we can, we head for the house. At the window, we peek inside and sadly, Grayer’s shirt is on and he’s sitting with his back against the wall on the floor surrounded by boxes. He’s holding what looks to be a photograph. It’s difficult to identify who’s in the photograph, but it appears to be a dad at a rodeo holding up a buckle with three little boys at his feet.

  I look around the room. Grayer’s surrounded by five empty cans, the remaining one hanging in his left hand and about a dozen photographs. The boxes he brought in must have been filled with photographs from his family.

  Haylee steps away and sits on the ground. “I can’t watch this. I thought his shirt would be off and it’s not. I’m disappointed.”

  Turning to look at her, I smile, but when I turn back to the window, Grayer’s forearm brushes over his eyes and it does feel wrong. He’s crying and I’m violating his privacy. But then I wonder if he needs s
omeone to talk to. Maybe a shoulder to cry on?

  There is no way I could go in there. We got along okay last night, but his moods are like lighting a firecracker and backing away slowly, arms raised so you don’t blow your hand off.

  What would I say if I went in there? “Hey, so I was trespassing and spying on you. I know you hate me, but should I hold you?”

  That probably wouldn’t go over well.

  With a sigh, I step back from the window. “Let’s go.”

  Haylee stands. “Why couldn’t he at least take off his shirt again?”

  I wrap my arm around her. “I don’t know . . . but we never got around to looking at those naked pictures on the Internet of him.”

  Her eyes light up. “Now we’re talking.”

  The second round or "go" is the second preliminary round of competition at a PBR event. A high score in the second round is important to a bull rider because it counts toward his qualification for the 25th PBR: Unleash the Beast Championship Round.

  Haylee takes me back to my house and despite the day and finally turning eighteen, I don’t feel like partying. She stays in my room with me because as she puts it, no one should be alone on their birthday. I have to agree. It makes sense and it’s nice to have her there. Someone who never judges me. It doesn’t matter if I just want to lie around, she’s there with me. With Sawyer Brown’s “Hey, Hey” playing in the background, we check out those naked pictures of Grayer and I’m not disappointed at all.

  Haylee isn’t either. “Sweet Jesus. . . .” She gawks at the one of him standing on a tailgate, a fifth of Southern Comfort in hand and pulling his jeans off, the top two inches of his dick showing. He’s laughing in the picture, and clearly drunk. “Think he goes commando?”