Working out here did that for him, too. He could figure things out—his goals were clearer out here, away from people and their constant pushing.
He caught sight of her and waved. She waved back. He’d given thought to taking a trip into town, solely to purchase a decent pair of jeans for her—not that he minded seeing her bent over in her skinny pair, they were beautiful with her in them—but they weren’t very practical. Women he knew didn’t always consider practicality when making decisions. That was another part of their charm.
His stomach growled, prompting him to do what he’d come to do. Lunch.
#
An hour later, Rafael walked back to his truck for a quick run into town. He saw Carter with her wheelbarrow this time, filled with paper—probably Jack’s magazine collection. Such a waste. He should have picked out a few. No, he was past the flipping through magazines stage. He preferred his women live and in living color.
She was working herself too hard for a newcomer, and would probably pass out if she wasn’t careful. Perhaps that was her intention, suicide by hard work, and if that were so, she was on the right track. He stopped and watched her for a second, pushing her little wheelbarrow. She hit a rock and struggled to keep the wheelbarrow steady. It fell in spite of her efforts and he chuckled, as he watched her shovel the contents back in with her hands. He chuckled again, shook his head, got in his truck and pulled out of his drive.
#
Thursday night
All of the fences were done. All of Jack’s junk from the back porch was now where it belonged—in the dumpster. She felt not even the slightest tinge of guilt at throwing it away. She’d put all she’d deemed important in a large box and moved it to the garage, in case Jack returned.
She was dead on her feet. Tired, but proud of herself, and it had been a long time since she’d felt that way she realized. In addition to getting rid of Jack’s junk, she’d finished hanging the gate. Yep. Finished the last of it an hour ago, just before dark. She fed Grey his nightly ration of hay and was now seated on the floor just outside of his stall, telling him about her day.
“So you’re still around,” Rafael said, walking into her barn. “And you haven’t killed the horse yet. I saw you today with your wheelbarrow and it dawned on me. You’re on a suicide mission. You’re trying to kill yourself, death by work. It’s possible,” he added, stopping to rub Grey’s side.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, he’s not only handsome, but smart, too,” she said, mimicking an announcer.
“Handsome?” he said.
“There is a lot to do here, is all. I got all the fencing done, and I do mean all the fencing done today. I may be slow, but I’m good,” she said, smiling up at him.
He laughed and smiled back, before settling his sinewy muscled body next to her on the ground.
“I’m impressed so far, really. You’ve outdone yourself,” he said at her look of skepticism. “What’s next in the Crazy Carter show?” he asked. She hit him in the shoulder with hers.
“Grass.”
“Smoking?”
“No, cutting. I’m cutting it, all of it. Or as much acreage as I can stand. Everyone’s property out here is nice and manicured—except ours, that is. So it’s grass next. I’ll have to check out our tractor situation in the morning. I don’t have the heart to check it tonight. If it doesn’t work, I think I’ll cry,” she said, chuckling along with him at that. “After that, if I haven’t run over myself with our tractor, it’s on to trees.”
“When was the last time your family’s tractor was used?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“I don’t recall seeing Jack driving it,” he said.
“Jack didn’t do anything as far as I can tell but look at naked women in magazines and drink vodka.”
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
She laughed. “If it doesn’t work, I’ll move on to my next item on my list, which is clearing of tree limbs, the lower branches, anyway. Provided our saw works. Ugh, can’t believe the shape this place is in,” she sighed. “That and the grass cutting should do wonders for this place. I hope so, at least.”
“Use mine,” he said.
“Use your what?”
“My tractor. It’s running and in good shape. I can’t imagine the state of anything around here. If it’s like everything else, it’s probably old and not safe. The world of tractors has changed much since your great-grandfather’s time. Stop by tomorrow morning and I’ll give you a refresher course. I’ll show you how to operate mine.”
“You sure? What if I wreck it?”
“See that you don’t,” he said.
“Okay. Thanks,” she said. It was quiet for a minute or two.
“You just dive right in, don’t you? Just like with that wedding. It was no pulling the groom aside before the ceremony, giving him a call the night before to talk to him. Not with you,” he said, laughing.
She laughed too, her first time about anything wedding related. “I guess not,” she said, and smiled, before she yawned.
“Tired?” he asked.
“You have no idea. Everything on my body hurts. I was not prepared for that,” she said.
“You’ll get your sea legs underneath you if you stick around long enough,” he said, brushing her hair away from her eyes. He pulled his hand back quickly, like he’d gotten carried away. It didn’t matter. She hadn’t noticed.
“I used to trail my great-grandfather around when I was little, and he would tell me that I got more than his name. Said I’d gotten his instinct for horses, too. I was too funny and cute in my jeans, cowboy shirt, and boots, too big hat, tailing my great-grandfather like some little puppy. I did love to be around them, just like him,” she said.
“I imagine it was something to see,” he said. She gave him a quick glance, not sure what to make of his comment, thinking he might be making fun of her.
It was quiet for a while. About five minutes later, he felt her head fall over onto his shoulder. He glanced over at her. Yep, she’d fallen asleep. He chuckled softly, but was careful not to wake her, taking the opportunity to examine her up close—smooth, dark skin over small and somewhat delicate features, and full, kissable lips.
He liked her, in spite of his best intentions not to. The jury was still out on the crazy part, but he liked her spunk, her drive, the willingness to work hard, and her willingness to dive in, feet first. He knew it had been difficult for her putting up the fencing. Come to think of it, he imagined it was hard to break up a wedding too; crazy for sure, but maybe even a little courageous. Nope. It was just crazy.
Farming was hard, back-breaking work, even for him, and he was used to it. He’d seen her struggling with her fencing, even before he’d driven over to help. He watched her often since she’d arrived. Today she was pushing her wheelbarrow from the house to the front drive near the road; she’d taken load after load without a break. He watched her with Grey in the mornings, keeping the stable clean and him fed. She might be flighty, but she’d turned out to be hardworking and caring, too. It was still early yet, he told himself. Slow down.
He’d gone back and checked out her YouTube video again. He still had trouble reconciling Crazy Carter with the person sitting next to him. Who knew what motivated people nowadays? Women. He’d given up searching for what motivated them a long time ago.
He looked at her again, eyes leaving her face to trail over the rest of her body. Nice breasts, if a little on the small side, he thought, watching her chest as it moved up and down with her breathing. And nice body, outlined by her very snug jeans and a close-fitting t-shirt. Brown, slightly beatup boots graced her feet.
Too bad she wouldn’t be around long. He was a little bit fascinated by her, the way someone is when watching a train wreck.
And here he’d gone and offered said train wreck the use of his tractor, shaking his head at that. He’d never let anybody on or near his tractor before, for that matter. She and her willing
ness to try had somehow managed to get through his thick hide, and quick.
#
Friday
Bright and early the next day, Carter parked in the driveway of Rafael’s home. It was her first time on his property since she’d been a kid, and that had been on horseback. Back then it had consisted of a small homestead sitting on land surrounding it as far as the eye could see.
She glanced over his property. Much had changed since she’d been here last. There was the new road leading away from the main road, which led to his small, but well-built home.
It was a single-story built from that famous white limestone that was so common to these parts in and around the Hill Country. His house was trimmed in a brick red. She could find traces of the same red in the stone as she walked up to the front door. She turned to look around at the rest of the property.
The front yard was decorated with native Texas plants, drought-resistant of course, because Central Texas was always a rain away from a drought.
A big barn also finished in stone was about a half-mile back behind the house, off to the right. That must have cost a pretty penny for someone so young. He must be some kind of enterprising, she thought again, to have gotten his home built and a very new, smart-looking barn.
There were other buildings behind his home. Chickens were walking around one of them. The others could have been storage, she guessed.
He approached her from the side of his house and smiled when he saw her. Again, it caught her by surprise; his looks, his smile, the ease in his own skin. It reminded her of Bentley. Was there nothing more appealing than a self-assured man?
“You ready?” he asked. Did he just give her the once-over, again?
“I am,” she said.
“Come on then,” he said, walking away, his stride long. She had to walk quickly to catch up to him.
“So if you’ve ridden on one of these before, nothing much has changed,” he said, stopping next to his shiny new green John Deere tractor. It was way newer than anything her family owned.
“Nice,” she said. He ignored her.
“Be careful with it,” he said, curtly, like he didn’t want to do this now. Had he changed his mind?
“Are you okay? I mean, I can do this later if you’re busy, or I can see if ours will work,” she said, apprehensive now.
“Nope. Hop on,” he said.
After she was settled, he walked her though starting, stopping, and how to use the clutch, gears, and how to add the implements.
“Coming back to you?” he asked, midway through her lesson.
“More than I thought, yes,” she said, shaking her head, smiling at him, wishing the training part of this would end.
“Okay. Let me see you go a while,” he said, watching her. He then explained the attachment for cutting grass, which added another 30 minutes, and of course, she had to demonstrate while he watched. At this rate, it would be nightfall before she got around to cutting actual grass.
“You should be okay,” he said, before running through his safety instructions again.
“I got it. I’ve done this before,” she said.
“Fine. I’ll open the gate, and you can take it from there. Call me if you have problems. I’ll be around here most of the day,” he said, giving her his cell number.
He watched her drive away, still amazed that he’d allowed her to use his tractor. It was his baby. He’d coveted that particular tractor—a John Deere F 5065 E series—since his college days at A&M. A favorite professor of his owned one. Rafael had done some training at his professor’s farm and had fallen in love with it. It meant more to him than just about anything, and he’d handed the keys over to her—aka Crazy Carter—breaker-up of weddings, sprayer of pepper spray, a woman he’d known barely two weeks.
He shook his head, refusing to give it or her any more of his time. He’d already given her more time than was good and the speed in which he was becoming interested in her was more than a little unnerving. He headed over to his barn. He had work to do.
#
Saturday morning
Carter stood waiting at the gate. She was early; didn’t want to be late. She’d called Wayne, the dude with the dump truck, again, just as Rafael had instructed her to. Wayne was more agreeable this time, and had a time slot that had just opened up. He’d see her Saturday morning.
So here she stood waiting, her new gate opened, her new sign attached. A few seconds later, a dump truck turned onto her property, and drove on through the newly-hung gate, which she’d left open, turned and backed up, parking next to the pile of junk.
Of course, Rafael pulled in behind him. What a nice guy he’d turned out to be, in spite of their rocky start. He’d been more than just a pretty face; he’d been helpful, hardworking, and most importantly, kind. Bentley came to mind again.
“So you still have that hidden camera around here?” Rafael said, as he stepped from his truck, smiling as he made his way over to her.
“I do. You’re the only one who knows it’s fake and I’d like to keep it that way,” she said, looking pointedly at Wayne, who had stepped down from his truck and stood, hands on hips, surveying her pile of junk.
“Wayne, this is Carter,” Rafael said, introducing her when they reached him.
“So, no more dumping on your property, huh? I’ll have to pass that along,” Wayne said, laughing at his own humor.
Carter looked over at Rafael, trying to judge if Wayne was serious or not. Wayne looked to be in his sixties; a large pouch rested over his belt buckle. He was outfitted in what she guessed was standard farmer-rancher wear—jeans, shirt, cowboy hat, boots.
“What you been up to?” Wayne said, looking at Rafael.
“Nothing much. Usual busy. Carter here is taking over the old Woodson ranch. He was her great-grandfather,” Rafael said.
“Really?” Wayne said, looking at her with fresh eyes. “So you’re the one responsible for all of this—the cut grass, the new fence. Looks one hundred percent better. Good job,” he said.
“Thanks. Still have more to do,” she said.
“So are you planning on sticking around? I heard your folks were going to sell,” Wayne said.
“That’s still the plan,” she said.
“Too bad. Nice spread you’ve got here,” he said.
“And now nicer, after all the junk has been removed.”
“Better get to it then,” Wayne said, pulling his work gloves from his back pant pocket.
“Should I write you a check now or after you’re done?” Carter asked.
“It’s on Rafael. I owe him and he’s decided to be neighborly,” he said, winking at Carter.
Carter and Rafael watched him walk over and start hauling debris toward his truck. Moments later, Rafael had join Wayne in loading the junk as she looked on.
Not that she needed it, but it was nice to have someone around who knew about farming and ranching to fill in her many gaps in knowledge.
He would make a nice neighbor… if she were going to stick around.
#
Saturday night
“I see your hard head has healed up nicely,” Frank said, sitting beside Rafael at the bar. Rafael had worked along side Wayne until most of the junk on Carter’s land had been loaded into Wayne’s truck. He’d left then and driven up to Austin to meet with a restaurant, The Fusion. He pitched his chicken and they’d agreed to buy from him. He’d stopped in for a beer to celebrate, and found Frank sitting at the bar alone.
“Thanks for the concern, but yes, I’m fine,” he said.
“How is the pepper-spraying neighbor hanging on? I’ve driven by the ranch. It’s starting to look like someone lives there. Wayne told me you helped him and paid him to get rid of the junk on her land.”
“It’s all her, working, cutting the grass, mending fences. All of it’s her. She’s getting it ready to sell. Yes, I helped. I’m a nice guy. I try to help when I can.”
“Sell, huh? You’re impressed with her. I can tell,”
Frank said, looking at his friend. “You didn’t go to the farmer’s market this morning. Heard you sent Enrique instead. Just to be with her. Better be careful, you might find yourself married.”
“That’s my goal remember? But it’s not like that. You know how Wayne can be toward women, plus he owed me a favor. I can attend or not attend a farmer’s market, it’s no big deal. Enrique has gone in my place before, many times. She is going to sell that beautiful piece of land, so I’m not all that impressed with her. But she does know how to work, and doesn’t seem to mind it either.”
“She’s cute, too,” Frank said.
“She is that.”
“Nice figure, too,”
“It is that,” Rafael said.
“But you’re not interested?”
“I’m looking for long-term, remember?” Rafael said.
“How could I forget? You’re in between though; she could be a good way to pass the time. You’ve been known to do short-term here and there, at least that’s what I’ve heard,” Frank said.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Rafael said, taking another swig of his beer. Yes, he had adjusted his initial assessment of Crazy Carter. But there was still that part about trying to break up that wedding. He hadn’t quite reconciled that part of her yet. Maybe it was love that had driven her. He had never been that into anybody, and couldn’t imagine being driven to that place. At any rate, she had short-term written all over her, and he just might be up for that part of her.
#
Seven
Sunday
Carter was in the golf cart, driving over the property again, patting herself on the back for her efforts to put this place to rights. She was so proud of having cut the grass, but still had a large chunk left to do. Rafael was going to let her use his tractor again later on today if she could get to it. If not, she still had tomorrow. The mowing had done wonders for the look of the property and she’d managed to give Rafael’s tractor back to him in one piece.
He’d driven her crazy, going on and on with his instructions. How many times had he said the word safety? She’d gotten the underlying message—don’t fuck up my tractor and don’t get yourself killed. She laughed at that. Rafael was nothing if not interesting, in the strictly friendship-kind-of-way, although she had given thoughts to other things. Who wouldn’t?
When You Fall... Page 9