by Jet MacLeod
“I figured you would like to know, because I won’t be coming to muck out the stables anymore,” I said.
“Oh,” he said, realizing what I was saying, “So, when you leaving, for good that is?”
“A few days,” I told him.
“Hmm…guess you better start mucking then if you want to pay off for the week,” he said, smiling at me, “Oh, and boy, I hope that she’s worth it. Seen too many go out there and leave with their hearts in their hands.”
He only laughed as he walked away. He started muttering again about the other stable hands when he rounded the corner. I would never know why he kept them on if they did such a poor job. But then again, I could understand that mucking stalls wouldn’t be a job that I would want and if I was in his position, I would hold onto anyone that took the job.
I mucked out the stables and then gave all the boarded horses some oats. I fished out a carrot the Miss Rayne had given me and gave it to Scout. He ate it quickly, neighing in approval of the vegetable.
I rubbed his mane and combed him down. I took some blankets and put them on his back, before I placed his saddle on top. He shook at the unwelcome weight, but took it in stride as I put the bit and bridle on him. I checked all of the restraints and buckles and then I mounted him.
“Come on boy, let’s go watch the train come in,” I told him.
He neighed. He shook his head and nodded in response. He trotted out of the stables like a steed on parade. He waited until we were outside of town, but following the tracks, before he let loose. He loved to gallop and had we still been in Mississippi, I am sure that Scout would have been a race horse.
*****
I rode back into to town to find Loren waiting on me at the stable. He looked worried or sad, but I couldn’t tell with his aging eyes. He had something with him.
“Loren,” I said, coming up on him.
“Reece, I have something here, for you, from Nancy and me. I think we owe you something for working so hard for us for the last few months,” he explained as I dismounted from Scout.
He followed me into the stables as I put Scout up for the night. He watched as I cared for my horse. He stepped out of the way when I took the saddle off and put the saddle stand outside of Scout’s stall.
“Here,” he said, handing me the brown paper wrapped package.
“You didn’t have to do anything for me. You’ve done enough for me by giving me the job, Loren. I can’t accept this,” I said trying to give it back.
“Hush, boy, and take it. You wouldn’t want to upset an old man or his wife now, would you?” he asked me, stressing wife.
I nodded. I knew that Nancy had done it as soon as he told her I was leaving. She had acted like a mother to me and she was just trying to make sure that I was going to be okay out there with Miss Rayne, all by myself.
I opened it, there in front of him. I knew that he wasn’t going to leave until I did. I tore into that paper like it was Christmas morning and it was a present from my Dadda, from under the tree. Paper went flying everywhere. When I got to the object, I gasped. I couldn’t believe it.
“They’re yours, boy. You’re going to need them on the ranch. You’ll be riding all the time, and all,” he told me, “Nancy was going to give ‘em to you for your birthday, but we didn’t know when it was, so she figured now was as good as any.”
“It’s too much, Loren,” I told him.
“Hush, boy, you’ll hurt my feelings. And, don’t tell me that you didn’t need any chaps and spurs. I knew you did. If you’s going to be a cowboy, you gonna need ‘em. Besides what would I do with them?” he asked.
“Loren…I can’t…but thank you,” I stated.
“Don’t worry about it. Got a trunk back at the store, if you want it. Didn’t know how much stuff you got to pack and take with you, so I didn’t bring it,” he told me.
“Don’t have much. Just enough to fill up the saddle bags. I travel light. It is easier to move that way, you know, nothing holding you down,” I said.
“Yeah, I do. Good luck, Reece, and I hope you find whatever it is that you are looking for and settle down. It ain’t good to keep riding the wind all the time. Just remember that you can come to me, any time that you need to and I’ll help you boy,” he told me.
“I will, Loren. Thank you. I will always remember. I will. I promise,” I stated.
“Now, go on, son, go find your destiny,” he stated as he walked off.
I couldn’t tell if he was trying to tell me not to come to work in the morning or to go get the girl. I was still too shocked at the time to really care. I decided that I would get a celebratory drink to commemorate the transition. I was after all going to be on a ranch, again. That meant more money, which meant I was getting home sooner.
I walked into the Shooting Star Saloon with every intention of it being the last time that I would go in to spend the night upstairs. I went and bellied up to the bar, ordering a shot of something strong. I didn’t care what it was as long as it made me feel good. Sam came down the bar with two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey.
“This, what you want?” he asked.
“If you’re pouring,” I told him.
“Another shot of courage, Reece?” he inquired.
“Nope,” I said, downing the shot in one gulp, “I am going to work for Rayne, now.”
“Oh, well, that would explain the smile,” he stated, “Just watch out for her boy. She has the potential to destroy your heart worse than any of my girls ever could try. She is a woman that knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to take it. She’ll hurt you if you let her.”
“Don’t plan on it,” I said taking another shot.
“We never do, son, we never do.”
Chapter Eight
Rayne, The Double Bar Ranch
I was so glad that he finally decided to listen to reason and to come work for me. He had only been there for about two weeks, but it seemed like a lifetime. He fit right in line, even though I am sure that Jedidiah wanted to string him up a few times in the beginning. I didn’t care thought, he was mine now.
I watched him as he fed the horses every day. His muscles showing through his rapidly tanning skin. His wheat colored hair bleached further in the sun. He had begun to work with his hat off in the stables due to the heat and somewhere in there; he cut the sleeves off his shirt. He looked magnificent and I loved to watch him work.
Today, he was in the stable moving bales of hay around. I saw him using the spikes to life them. He was making it easier for himself to feed the horses in the morning. He didn’t leave anything up to chance. He treated those horses like they were royalty. I could only hope that he would look at me that way.
“Miss Rayne, what you doing out here? It’s mighty hot out today,” he stated.
“I came to see if you would like some lemonade or some water. You should take a break. You’ve been working hard all morning. You need to rest a little or you’ll kill over in the heat,” I told him.
“Why, yes, I think you’re, right,” he told me.
“You know that I am,” I said, “Plus, it is time for you to read more of the Shakespeare to me. You know that I like it when you read to me.”
“I can do that for you, ma’am, but I am going to have to go to my room to get my book,” he told me.
“No, you won’t,” I said, showing him the book, “I want to go riding up to the gulch and then you can read it to me there. That’s what I want.”
“Yes’m, if that is what you want, then I’ll oblige,” he stated, “However, I would prefer it if you didn’t go into my room and take the book. It is very special to me.”
“I didn’t. You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what, Miss Rayne?” he asked me.
“The fact that you let me borrow this a few days ago because I was so infatuated with the text. I have had it since then, boy,” I explained.
“I did. All right then, I am going to order you your own copy of it. I really don�
�t want to part with that one, again,” he said, almost sadly.
“That sounds fine,” I told him and then asked, “Are we going or not?”
“We’re going, just let me saddle both Whiskers and Scout first,” he said.
He went back into the stable before I could stop him or even answer. I called out to him and told him that I was going to go pack some sandwiches for us to eat. He yelled something back but it wasn’t audible. I shook my head and went on my way to get the sandwiches.
By the time I was done and had everything packed, he was outside of the house with the horses waiting for me. I came out, smiling at him. He had gotten his hat, which he tipped to me as I came out of the house.
“Ready?” he questioned.
“Yes, I’m ready,” I told him, handing him the sandwiches to put in his saddlebags. He put them in his bags. He then took my hand and led me around the horses to the side of Whiskers. He put his hands together and hoisted me up onto the saddle.
“Good?” he asked me.
“Good,” I replied to him as he handed me the reins.
He mounted quickly and grabbed his reins.
“You ready to go?” he asked.
“Let’s go,” I said, urging Whiskers into a gallop away from the farm house and other dwellings.
I looked back to see him close on me as he caught up. I knew that he hated it when I did that, especially when we were racing. I had come to love the look on his face, the determination to not let me win just because I stole the head start. He was laughing and I enjoyed his smile.
“You won’t win,” he told me as he passed me.
“That is what you think,” I said, changing direction.
I heard him call after me, “That isn’t fair!”
He caught up to me, quickly. I didn’t think much of his horse until then. She was fast. He caught me, laughing, and then passed me. I think he held up beside me for a while just to make me think that I was going to win before he passed me. I thought for a slight second that he was going to let me win, but then, I realized he wasn’t. I pushed Whiskers harder, trying to beat him, but I knew that she couldn’t keep up with his horse. He won.
“About time you got here,” he said, laughing as I approached him at the gulch overlook.
“You cheated,” I stated, angrily.
“I cheated? You were the one that jump started. I ran a fair race with you, madam,” he said defending himself.
I shook my head and laughed at the absurdity of it. He was trying to defend himself to me for actually winning. It was cute, just like he was.
“So, you’re right,” I admitted, “I am just joshing you anyway.”
He just smiled. He dismounted and came over to Whiskers. He took the reins to steady the horse, while I dismounted. It was the first time that I remember him being around me that he didn’t help me dismount. It would have been hard for him considering it was just the two us up there.
We walked along the line of the gulch. He had the reins of both horses in his hands. He reached inside his pocket and handed me the copy of Shakespeare. I knew how much trust it took for him to hand that volume to me, like that. I began to flip through it. He just watched me and smiled.
After about ten minutes or more of walking, we came to a grove of trees that over looked a small pond that the livestock uses as a watering hole. I decided that this would be a good place to sit and read. It was a nice spot.
I pulled him over by his hand. He pulled a blanket out of his bed roll and laid it on the ground for us to sit upon. He then led the horses to a fallen tree trunk and tied them up. They might have struggled for a minute but it was only to get at the grass and shrubs that lay around where they were positioned. We sat there and ate the sandwiches that we had packed.
“Do you have any requests?” I asked him.
“Not especially, they are all good,” he replied.
“Do you have any suggestions, then?” I inquired.
“Depends on what you are in the mood for,” he said, “He wrote about a lot of different things while he was in different moods. So, depending on what you want will depend on what I recommend for you to read.”
“Hmm,” I started, “How about something lovely?”
“Sounds like a good idea,” he replied.
“Well?” I questioned.
“I’m thinking, give me a minute,” he responded.
“How about this one?” I asked as I flipped through the pages, “This one sounds good. What about number twenty? Does that one work for you?”
“That is good, but try number thirty-one,” he told me.
I flipped a page or two and found the poem. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do. I wondered if he was going read it to me.
“Read the first line,” he commanded me.
“Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,” I spoke.
“Do you know what he is saying there?” he asked.
“I think it is something about his heart,” I answered.
“Nope, he is talking about his love’s or the person that he holds in affection’s heart. He is saying that it is full of the love from other hearts and it has been enriched by it,” he explained to me.
“That sounds beautiful, but the next line: ‘Which I by lacking have supposed dead.’ Does that mean he thought their heart was closed off and unfeeling?” I asked.
“Right, keep reading,” he told me.
“And there reigns love, and all love’s loving parts,” I read it aloud.
“Do you understand that part?” he asked.
“He is saying that his lover’s heart seemed empty of emotion but the love that his lover received healed the empty heart and now it was commanded by love and everything that love has to offer,” I said to him.
“Good, and the next line,” he said, “Which reads: ‘And all those friends which I thought buried,’ what does that mean?”
“I guess the friends are emotions, and since he thought they were dead he treated them as such, but now he knows that they aren’t, so now he laments in the next lines: ‘How many, a holy and obsequious tear/ Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye’,” I continued.
“Right. He is upset that the object of his affection seemed lifeless and dead when it came to emotion only to find out that emotion wasn’t dead for that person. He tells the lover that he had pined and cried for their love, which he thought was dead, like a friend would do when they lost someone dear to them,” he explained.
“I got that but in the next line he goes from mourning to an accusation of betrayal and lies from the lover. He thinks that the lover should pay for the lies and admit that love calls the lover a grave, where it hasn’t died, but lives on, maturing and growing in strength,” I said.
“Correct, he is hurt, but he admits that he still loves the lover. He just wants the lover to return the favor. It is like a person who loves someone so much that the person they are in love with can cause the sun to set and rise at their whim. He just wants for his lover to release some sort of emotional response in proof that love does exist in their hearts, and especially for Shakespeare himself,” he said.
“Then he continues to tell the woman that she now eclipses all the rest of his loves. She has command of him and he is her willing servant. She bears the likeness of all of them and with that has earned and taken all of his love, right?” I questioned him, fascinated by the poem[3].
“That is correct. He is at first wounded by her only to realize that she is the woman of his dreams. She has everything that his other lover’s didn’t, the full expectations of his love and the entirety of his heart,” he stated, “You are very good at this.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Do you wish to read more?” he asked.
“Yes, but –“ I stated.
“But, what?” he inquired.
“Isn’t it time for you to feed the horses, again,” I questioned him, not really wanting to leave, but I knew that we couldn’t let the ranch work stop for a l
ittle poetry, no matter how good it was.
He looked up into the sky and nodded.
“I am sorry. I didn’t realize what time it was,” he said, getting to his feet. He reached out his hand for me to take, to help me up. I reached out slowly for it.
He had forgone gloves today and I was thankful. I could feel the warmth of his hands on mine, the tenderness in his touch, and the roughness that ranch work caused his skin. He pulled me up into him. I stood there next to him, swooning at the smell of leather, sweat, wind and hay. His sapphire eyes danced in the sunshine of the afternoon, darkening as we stood there. His hat lay on the blanket and his sun-bleached blond hair was tussled and windblown, but as sexy as ever. I didn’t know how someone with such common goals would command such powerful sexual desire from me that I could forget who I was.
“Miss Rayne, you okay?” he asked me.
“I’m good,” I said, “It’s just that I like reading that Shakespeare stuff with you.”
“We can do that as often as you would like, barring that it doesn’t interfere with the running of the ranch, Miss Rayne. I don’ t have a problem with that,” he told me.
I was touched. He wanted to share it with me. I wanted him to share it with me.
“I would like that. I think that the poems are beautiful and very emotional. Wouldn’t you agree?” I questioned him.
He did have a far more superior knowledge of Shakespeare and his works. I was sure that he would have some sort of opinion. I just wasn’t prepared for what he said next to me.
“Wait until you read some of the latter ones,” he said, “They can be downright hateful sometimes.”
“Really?” I asked.
“Yes, Shakespeare was a gifted writer. He used his emotions and the flowered language of the day to make his audience understand his feelings. Sometimes he directed the poems at an individual using codes and symbols to make it understood who the poem was written to or for or even about. He was a genius,” he explained.
“That is powerful,” I stated.
“Yes, it was,” he replied, “Come on; I’ll help you up onto Whiskers.”