Untamed

by Shey Stahl

  Giving me a nod, he crosses his arms over his chest, his tense blue eyes focused on me. “Everything go all right back home?”

  I look to Britany. She probably told him about Maesyn. She’s a shit like that sometimes. I nod, lying through my teeth. “I guess. I got everything filed with the county and Mac should be here by Sunday.” Sneaking a glance at his face, it’s hard, but there’s softness underneath the tension when Wyatt waves to him.

  “Re,” Wyatt says softly, laying his head on my chest like he’s perfectly content.

  I’m not sure what’s made Reid such a tough guy. Maybe because he had to be the man of the house along with my dad. How else was Dad going to raise four kids under ten by himself if it weren’t for Reid? He wouldn’t have, that’s for sure. In turn, Reid was forced to grow up faster than he needed.

  Somehow, with the distraction of Wyatt, I avoid any conversation about Maesyn, which I know once we’re alone, Britany will be asking me about it. And I’ll tell her, because she’s the one person I can talk to about that sort of thing.

  I take Wyatt into the living room with Ty where we watch Bubble Guppies. His favorite show. I personally can’t stand it and if I never hear, “Bubble Bubble Bubble Guppy Guppy Guppy,” in my life, it’ll be too soon.

  “Bubby gubby!” Wyatt shouts in my ear as he climbs all over me, never allowing an inch of space between us. I have him dressed in his pajamas, which was a task in itself. He literally never stops moving.

  Ty pops his head up from his phone in his hand, a beer in the other. Ty looks like Dani. They could have been twins with their Joker-like jaws and wide goofy smiles. “What’s with you and that chick?”

  I peek around Wyatt. “What are you talking about?”

  He holds up his phone, grinning. “The chick you were bagging back home.”

  My jaw tightens, and I’m tempted to send my fist through his jaw for even bringing it up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Kade told me you were messin’ around with Archer’s daughter.”

  Playing it off, I shrug indifferently, refusing to answer him.

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.” He knows I won’t. Standing, he stretches his arms over his head and retreats down the hall to his room. “I can’t take any more singing fish.”

  I tap Wyatt’s butt and make him sit. “It’s time for you to go to bed too, buddy.”

  He frowns, rosy cheeks puffing up as he juts out his bottom lip. “No.”

  “Yup.” I like to think I’m good with Wyatt. I give him everything he needs but more importantly, I’m a good dad, and I can say that without a question on the end of it. “C’mon.” I pick him up and carry him into his room. By the way he sags in my arms and worms his way into my embrace, I can tell he’s tired, but he fights sleep about as much as he fights putting shoes on.

  And it’s in that instant, when I think of the way Wyatt doesn’t like to wear shoes, that my mind retreats back to the girl with an aversion to shoes and a reckless heart. Setting Wyatt in his bed, I hand him his blanket and the array of stuffed animals he keeps with him. He’s always been a good sleeper, even from the beginning, but I sit beside his bed until he falls asleep, singing Merle Haggard to him like my dad used to do for me when I couldn’t sleep.

  Watching his eyes flutter closed, I can’t say I regret the decision to ask Maesyn to come to Biloxi, but I’m nervous what it means for Wyatt. Or what she’s going to think of him. I thought about telling her I had a son, but I didn’t.

  My stomach drops thinking of her. A cold claw grabs at my insides and I try to reason with myself, tell myself I don’t even know if she’ll come. And I have to remind myself, too, she’s not mine. I didn’t give much thought to my decision. I only know I want more from her. And I’m not sure what I can provide for her either, other than a good time. I’ve been so focused on riding and the championship, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be twenty-one, let alone what being with a woman might be like now that I’m a dad.

  Maybe her wild-hearted wandering soul is exactly what I need.

  A flank man is the person who fits the flank strap on the bull and tightens it, if necessary, as the bull exits the chute. Different bulls respond to flank straps in different ways, making it important for the flank man to know the bull's tendencies. This knowledge helps a flank man judge how tight or loose to make the flank strap on a given bull. Because this knowledge of each bull is so important, a flank man often is the stock contractor who owns the bull or a livestock supervisor who works for that stock contractor.

  It takes me most of the morning to get my chores done, even though I’m bouncing around like Mary Poppins. Haylee’s in my room sleeping in my bed with Morgan. I kick at the bed and set the dream catcher on my nightstand being super careful of it. “What are you doing in here?”

  Her eyes pop open, startled. “Shit . . . what time is it?”

  “Late enough you two shouldn’t still be sleeping. Did you sleep here last night?”

  She nods. “Tucker is a fuckin’ asshole. I came over to see you, saw you in the barn, so I came up here. Morgy Moo snuck in.” Haylee yawns and sits up. Two beer cans in my bed fall to the floor. “Don’t worry, she’s sober. What the hell were you doing in there?”

  That familiar burn returns to my cheeks. “Eight Seconds,” I whisper, the thrill of his touch gives my words a particular pitch.

  I also can barely keep the tears from my eyes when I realize he’s really gone and I have no idea why I’m acting this way. And then it hits me. I can follow him. I can go see him in Biloxi. Nothing’s stopping me. I’m eighteen now. This is my chance. This is me being me and doing something for myself.

  My phone beeps on my nightstand and I think it might be Grayer since I gave him my number. It’s Joel and my heart hurts reading his message.

  Joel: Come over tonight.

  Grayer is absolutely right. I am better than this. I’m not that girl and I deserve someone to love me, or at least try to. I will never reply to his texts again.

  Morgan takes her pillow and walks into her own room, apparently needing more sleep. When Morgan’s out of the room, I smile at Haylee and sit down on the edge of my bed. “Let’s go to Biloxi, Mississippi,” I say, waiting for her reaction.

  Her brow furrows. “What’s in Biloxi?”

  “Pro bull riding. . . .”

  She sits up, cheeks rosy and hair all over the place. “Let me get this straight.” She waves her hand around. “You want to drive to Biloxi, Mississippi, to see a bull rider you met a few days ago.”

  “Yeah, but when you say it like that, it sounds sorta desperate.”

  Haylee laughs. “No, it’s not desperate. Hanging around a married man hoping he’s going to pick you, that’s fuckin’ desperate.”

  I stick out my bottom lip. “I’m sorry, girl. He’s a dick.”

  “He’s a douche.” Running her hands over her hair, she smooths it out. “Well, we planned to leave anyway so I’m game. When do we leave?”

  “Like . . . now.” I reach into my closet and start throwing clothes in a bag. “Let’s just do it. Get in your truck and run away.”

  Haylee gasps, sitting up. “Yes. Finally! You said he has brothers, right?”

  “He’s got two brothers,” I tell her, smiling so wide I don’t think it’s going to fade. “Reid and Ty.”

  “See,” Haylee stands and puts her jean shorts on and then reaches for her keys, “now we’re talking. Road trip, baby!”

  It hits me that I need a plan when Haylee and I are standing in my bedroom, me holding a bag of clothes, the dream catcher inside it, and an envelope of money. I hold the money up. “Mom gave me a thousand dollars. How much you got?”

  “Little over two thousand I think. I’ve been saving for a couple years now.”

  “Now what?” I watch Haylee, waiting, wondering if she has an idea what to do.

  Her eyes dart from mine to the bag and then back to me. “Let’s go. I’ve had a bag packed in my truck since graduation.”<
br />
  “You have?” I don’t know why that shocks me, but it does.

  “Yep.”

  My stomach jumps when my phone beeps. Thinking again, it might be Grayer. I look down—it’s Joel again.

  Joel: Where are you?

  My stomach knots at the message. “Ready?”

  “Heck yes.” She nods and follows me out the door, telling me all the while how excited she is.

  When we’re downstairs, it hits me again what leaving means for my family.

  Who’s going to do my chores around here and what will my dad say? Technically I’m eighteen and he can’t say anything or stop me, but is leaving town the responsible thing to do? And what about Morgan?

  I didn’t think I would care, but now, moments away from my life changing, I’m nervous.

  Luckily for me, Mom is in the kitchen and Dad’s outside. Morgan’s still sleeping.

  “Oh, hello, Haylee.” She greets my best girl politely, wiping her hands down the front of her apron. “I made some breakfast if you’re hungry.” And then she notices my bag and smiles, drawing in a deep breath. “Your dad’s down in the south field.” It’s like she’s giving me the okay. “And the boy down the street’s been looking for some summer work. I think I’ll give him a call to help out.”

  Haylee’s not sure what to make of all this, but I know exactly what my mom’s getting at. She’s giving me an out.

  Mom pulls Haylee in for a hug, her arms tight and nurturing like she always is. “Drive safe.”

  Holy crap. This is really happening. Haylee looks nervous staring at me over my mom’s shoulder. “Always, Mrs. Calhoun.”

  Mom then turns to me. “Have fun, baby.”

  “I will.” My nerves hit again, but so does my smile, anticipation racing through my heart.

  “And call me when you get there. Wherever it is you’re going.”

  I used to think that my mom was unhappy. I mean, how could she be happy living on this ranch her entire life? The thing was, this was the life she wanted. And she understood it wasn’t what I wanted. What my dad can’t see, she understands so easily. I guess maybe, I’m a bit more like her than I realized.

  “What about Dad?” I knew it wouldn’t go over well with him. In his world, you don’t walk away from your responsibilities. “And Morgan.”

  “He’ll get over it. And Morgan, honey, she loves you, but doing what’s in your heart is more important and shows her you follow happiness. Remember your own words, honey. If it sets your soul on fire, be fearless,” she whispers. “Now, go. I’m sure it’s a long drive.”

  It’s funny to me that she knew where I was going, but then again, it’s not. She always knew.

  When I was ten, I got bucked off Clay, my horse, and broke my arm. There was no way my mom could have seen it, but she met me on the porch with ice and her purse in hand, ready to take me to the doctor. I asked her how she knew, and she smiled, helping me in the car. “You’re my blood, baby. I know when you’re hurt.”

  I thought when the time came to leave, I’d be out the door so fast nothing could have stopped me. Now I’m hesitating.

  I wrap my arms around my mom, tight, letting her know with my hold, I’ll miss her regardless if I’m gone a day or a year. “Thanks, Mama. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Drawing back, her hands that have held me close since my first breath cup my cheeks. “Show that boy you’re worth it and believe that you are, sweetie.”

  Haylee grows impatient and touches my shoulder, in no way trying to rush my mom, but still eager to get going. “We really need to get going if we’re gonna catch that rodeo.”

  She’s right. We do. We have no idea how long it’s going to take to get there. I haven’t even looked at a map.

  With one last hug, I let my mom go. Haylee and I make our way outside. Mom follows to the porch and waves us off with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes.

  Haylee and I are in the truck. She grins, excitedly. “Buckle up, bitches.”

  “I’m the only one.”

  “Right. Well, buckle up.”

  Heading down the driveway, I take one last look at the house. There goes my childhood.

  Toward Highway 90, I glance over at Haylee. “We should get gas.”

  That wasn’t what I was getting at and she knows it. “I’ll just text my mom. And Tucker won’t care.”

  “Do you think he’ll know?”

  “Probably not. His wife’s pregnant.”

  I frown, rubbing her shoulder. “I’m sorry, babe.” And then I give her a smile and grab her hand. “Just us girls, right?”

  She smiles. “Heading to a rodeo.”

  “Actually, I learned rodeo and bull riding aren’t the same thing.”

  She laughs, tucking a cigarette behind her ear, and turns up the song.

  “Is this a bad decision?” I ask, unable to wipe the grin from my face. I go back to what Grandpa Lee used to tell me. Life is your story and death is a sentence only to be defined to live your best life.

  Haylee smiles even wider. “My dad always told me bad decisions make good stories.”

  “Your dad was a smart man.”

  Reaching over, she grabs my hand and squeezes it. “Let’s get lost.” With our Fleetwood Mac playlist, we pull out onto the highway. We are just two friends with an insane need to get lost in the unknown, messy hair, barefoot, and wild hearts.

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

  My mind and nerves are all over the place trying to understand why I’m following Grayer to Mississippi. I mean, don’t get me wrong, last night was great. And we had an unbelievable connection, but what would this mean when I got to Biloxi?

  Haylee seems to sense my nerves and reaches to turn down the radio. “He told you to come, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” I bite my thumbnail and sigh, staring out the window.

  “Then stop obsessing over it. He wouldn’t have said that if he didn’t want you there.”

  “I know,” I say, not entirely convinced. And then I remember pieces of my conversation with him last night. Parts I failed to tell Haylee in our rush to leave town. “He knows that Joel is Jamie’s brother.”

  We pass by Ellensburg Pasta Company. Her gaze lingers on her mom’s old beat-up Oldsmobile parked around back. “You told him about Jamie?” Her eyes dart from the road to mine. “You never tell anyone about him.”

  She’s right. I don’t. I don’t like the looks I get when people know. The ones where they take pity upon me because my boyfriend died.

  “I didn’t tell him. He knew. He figured it out on his own.”

  Haylee doesn’t say anything for a minute and then sighs. “I sure hope he has some hot friends who are as good as he is.”

  With my phone in hand, I gesture to it. “It’s a thirty-eight-hour drive. We should try to make it to Salt Lake City tonight.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Hours later, we’re just outside Pendleton, Oregon, and it’s hot. Not just any kind of hot. It’s miserable. As the boys back home would say, it’s hotter than the Devil’s ball sac. Haylee and I are literally in our bras and underwear because her truck has no air conditioning.

  “We gotta stop and get some water or somethin’,” I tell her, laying my head back against the window and letting the warm breeze try to cool me down. It doesn’t help. It’s like I’m under a hairdryer. “I feel like I’m sweating enough that I shouldn’t be hot.”

  Haylee fans herself with the map as she pulls off the interstate. “That’s a gross thought, but I know what you mean.”

  We stop at a gas station, grab bottles of water, want to throw ourselves in the cooler, get cigarettes, and then we’re walking through the small store looking for snacks. We’re stalling because the last thing we want to do right the
n is go back out in that heat again.

  That’s when Haylee picks up a pack of condoms. “Think he’ll have enough?”

  I laugh, not only at the looks we’re getting but that Haylee is only wearing her mismatched bra and underwear and holding up a box of condoms. She probably should have put some clothes on before we decided to come inside the store.

  I nod. “Better get some. Wouldn’t want to run out.”

  We get even more looks when she tosses all that on the counter. I had a hundred-dollar bill from my envelope of money. “Can I get sixty on pump two?” she asks, staring at the older man behind the counter.

  “You should have put your dress back on,” I whisper in her ear, resting my chin on her shoulder when the man behind the counter says nothing to her, and gazes at her red lace bra.

  Unlike Haylee, I put my dress on at least. It’s not much of a dress, but it’s still better than what she’s wearing. This man behind the counter wearing glasses, he’s more than likely never seen anyone like her before.

  She blows me off, waving and tossing cash on the counter and then throws a bag of barbecue chips up there too.

  Still, the man stares.

  Haylee snorts and leans over the counter pushing money toward him. “It’s hot out there, man. Now how ’bout that gas?”

  “Pump two is ready,” he stutters, his eyes on Haylee’s chest.

  We’re walking outside, the heat suffocating us immediately when we step out. Haylee laughs. “You’d think he’s never seen a half-naked girl before.”

  “He probably hasn’t.” With my hand on the door handle of her truck, I roll my eyes and lift up on my tiptoes to look over the hood. “Take a look around.”

  She does and sees for herself why everyone is staring at her. It’s a truck stop and most of these men probably haven’t seen a woman in months.

  Her eyes dart around her surroundings. “Nice,” is all she says and begins to pump gas.