by Parker, Ali
“What in God’s name?” I put my coffee cup down and stomped out the back door. I was angry. Why didn’t he listen? I didn’t need his help.
“Dylan! What are you doing? I told you, you didn’t need to do this,” I shouted, as I was stomping toward him.
He turned toward me for a brief second, then he continued hammering. “I’m almost done. No point in stopping now.”
That response only made me more frustrated. “Put that hammer down. I told you that I don’t need your help. You should just go back to East Texas.”
He stopped hammering, but he didn’t put the hammer down. “There you go with that stubbornness again. Even with this fence already pretty much fixed, you’re still fussing about it and refusing to accept any help. Why won’t you let me help you, Helen?”
“Because it’s not your place. You have your own ranch, your family ranch. I don’t need you to come out here and take pity on me,” I said. Saying those words was hard, and I already wished I could take them back.
“Pity? That’s what you think this is? Pity? Well, you are wrong about that ma’am. This isn’t pity. This is a friend helping a friend. Don’t you have friends that help you? That’s what friends do. Aren’t I a friend?”
My mouth fell open. It was hard to be furious at him when he was making a good point.
“Sure, we are friends. But it’s just that—”
“It’s just what? You aren’t able to accept help from a friend?”
“Ugh! Fine. But just this fence and I’m only giving in because I’m hungry and I’m going in to make breakfast,” I turned and started to leave him. Then I stopped and turned around. “You know you call me stubborn, but you’re way more stubborn than I am. You can’t be told no—you’ll just do it anyway. Stubborn cowboy!” I shouted at him and stomped off. There was no point in waiting for a response from him. It would just be another infuriating argument.
When I got to the back porch, I realized that I was still stomping and felt a little childish about it. How did he bring this reaction out of me? I had not felt this heated since the Saddle Ranch Complex first opened, and the Taylor family had gotten under my skin. But this was different. This was a different kind of angry and I didn’t know how to describe it. There was something waking up inside of me and that scared me just a little.
I sat down at the kitchen table feeling frustrated. Then the sound of hammering echoed through my kitchen. I walked to the window and peered out. The anger left me for a fleeting moment as I watched him work. He was strong and capable. His fit body moved in a way that was enticing. There I was lusting after Dylan as I privately watched him from my window.
“Ugh.” I pulled away from the window. “I feel like a damn peeping Tom,” I muttered.
I stood at the counter and poured myself another cup of coffee. “Just keep yourself occupied and make some breakfast, Helen.”
Opening the refrigerator door, I saw that the basket of eggs was empty. “Oh come on. You have to be kidding me.”
This meant that I would have to go back outside to the chicken coop to gather some eggs. I didn’t want to go back out there because I knew Dylan would have that big crooked grin on his face because I’d given in. He was so cocky and sure of himself, it was infuriating. Doubly so because it was so attractive. I opened the pantry looking for a box of pancake mix instead, but there was none to be found. “Crap.”
I paced back and forth drinking from my cup of coffee. Every now and then I stopped in front of the window and watched Dylan’s shirtless form move with grace. He was very attractive and very, very fit. That was what ranch work did and it looked good on him. “Oh stop it, Helen! He’s too young for you,” I said, talking to myself again.
Grabbing the empty egg basket, I went to the living room and grabbed my sunglasses from the console by the front door near my keys. I put them on and took the empty basket out the front door. I would go around the house in the other direction.
“Stubborn man. And he called me stubborn, humph, he’s the one that’s stubborn,” I muttered to myself. Going the long way around to avoid another heated interaction, I finally arrived at the chicken coop.
“Need eggs?” he asked.
“What? I thought you were on the fence?” I asked confused.
“I am. I just came over here to grab this from this woodpile,” he said, holding up a small plank of wood.
“Okay. Yeah, I just need a few eggs,” I said, moving past him. But he didn’t walk away, he followed me inside the large chicken coop.
“I always liked this part. Showing the guests how to get eggs from the coop,” he smiled, as he picked up two eggs and put them in the basket.
“Yes, they really do seem to enjoy it. Especially the kids,” I said, as I grabbed three eggs and put them in the basket. “I’m sure they have some fancy way of doing it at the Saddle Ranch Complex.”
“Screw the fancy way. This is the way,” he said.
“Sure, I guess so,” I said, realizing that my tone sounded a bit immature, but I couldn’t help it. I was having all kinds of emotions and it was way too early for all of this. I definitely needed more coffee.
“I believe in this place Helen,” he said, putting his hand on top of mine and stopping me as I reached toward an egg. He looked at me with those incredible light blue eyes. I swallowed hard.
“Thank you, that’s real nice. I’m going to get started on breakfast,” I pulled my hand from his, and grabbing the egg, placed it in the basket.
I turned and walked out of the coop, marching to the beat of my rapid heartbeat as I left his side. He was just so damn charming and sincere I found it hard not to like him.
Back in the kitchen, I cut up vegetables from my garden and started on veggie omelets with avocado, bacon, and toast.
As I cooked, with more vigor than usual, I knew that I was starting to like having Dylan at the ranch. I could definitely use the help—and the friendship—if I was being honest with myself. But who was ever honest with themselves?
If I was going to be truly honest with myself, I should understand that my confusion was coming from the fact that it had been such a long time since I had someone I was attracted to around me. I had gotten married young, and flirting was now foreign to me. Being a widow made it feel downright wrong, but was it?
7
Dylan
This stubborn woman! Damn it. I didn’t know if she was infuriating or endearing with her determined stance on not having me around. The more she tried to push me away the more I wanted to stay. I was baffled by the fact that she was refusing my help. It was frustrating as all hell. Getting her to agree to let me just mend the stupid fence felt like a small victory, but she was still kicking me off the ranch. “This is not how I was expecting to start my vacation,” I muttered to myself as I watched her stomp back toward the house from the chicken coop. A hen came around and clucked at me as though to respond. “Yeah, I thought she would welcome me with open arms, not the cold shoulder,” I said, completely comfortable conversing with the chicken. Just a little habit that was easy to pick up being raised on a ranch. Talking to the animals like they were people was a given.
Grabbing the planks of wood that would suit well for propping up the fence rail, I made my way back to the worksite. It was a simple and easy job, but one that I wanted to last for years and years. As I hammered in the last nails, I saw a grey old truck coming down the long gravel driveway of the ranch. It stopped in front of the barn and a man in a gray felt cowboy hat that matched his truck stepped out. He looked worn and weathered, a true cowboy. But I didn’t recognize him from my old days of working there.
When he turned my direction, I tipped my hat and started to walk over. He greeted me the same way.
“Hey, Dylan Dawson, sir!” I pushed out my hand to shake his.
“Marshall Tavins, good to meet you, son,” he said. It was typical for a man of his age, around 60, to call me son. I didn’t mind it.
“I used to work here in the summers, m
any years ago and just came out for a visit and to help out if I can,” I said.
“This ranch could sure use the help,” he said, walking toward the barn door. I followed him.
“That’s what I said, but Helen there is having a hard time accepting help,” I said, as I watched him pull the lock pole out of the ground. I instinctively grabbed the other one on the other barn door and did the same. Together we pulled on the doors and set them wide open as we chatted.
“Helen? Yeah, that’s a stubborn woman if you ask me. I’ve seen her be a real firecracker, dishing out some words to a ranch hand that wasn’t cuttin’ it. Wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. But she could surely use the help,” he said. Then he leaned sort of close to deliver the next words—“if you don’t mind helping for free. The ranch has fallen on hard times.”
“I’m a friend. Friends don’t charge friends. Besides I would be getting’ room and board, just like I did back then—just without the paycheck. I care about this place,” I said, following him into the barn to give him a hand.
“Well, then you’re a good friend to have, son. I come out here on the weekdays, in the morning,” he said.
“What’s that routine?”
“Every morning on the weekdays, I come to feed the animals, set them to pasture, clean the stalls and do some minor work here and there, but I have to be off by noon. Then I make my rounds to a few other ranches for the same type of work. But Helen, she brings the horses in from pasture at night all by herself. She’s a real cowgirl that one.”
“Yes, she is. I don’t doubt that for a second,” I said, trying to remember watching her do just that when I was a teenager. She would be out there on her horse rounding up the horses and herding them back toward the stables or the corral.
“Then on the weekends, I’m a guide, or whatever is needed. I guide the guests through the ranch. You know, showing them how to work the ranch and take part in the activities and whatnot.”
“Yeah, I used to do the same once upon a time.” I grabbed a pitchfork and started to shovel heaps of hay into the stalls, just as he was doing the same.
“The ranch has fallen on some hard times though. The guests used to be here all week, now it’s just the weekend, even in summer,” he said while we worked.
“That’s what I hear,” I said, getting heated that everyone knew the ranch was in trouble and still, Helen wouldn’t let me help her out.
“It’s that fancy new dude ranch nearby. Poaching all the customers like a poacher on private lands.”
“What have they got going on over there that’s so dang attractive,” I said, as I stopped working and stuck the pitchfork into the dirt.
“Just modern stuff. You know the kids these days with their selfies and social computer stuff. The Saddle Ranch Complex caters to that. Slick Wi-Fi, and nice photo opportunities on every corner—”
“Shit, does any work get done by the guests? Do they ever get their hands dirty? Or just take photos with pitchforks in their hands for all their friends to see?” I asked, exasperated.
He laughed. “Probably not.”
“Dylan. Breakfast,” Helen’s voice broke over the static intercom on the wall.
I raised a brow.
“Looks like your friend’s being friendly,” Marshall smiled.
“I’m surprised she’s not making me get a drive-thru breakfast, after kicking me off the ranch,” I said.
He just laughed. “Hang in there, buddy. See ya later.”
“Thanks, Marshall. It was real good to meet you,” I hung the pitchfork on the wall and made my way out of the barn toward the main house.
8
Helen
“It’s a nice day out there. There’s cloud cover so the sun isn’t piercing down and searing my skin, as usual,” Dylan said, as he walked in the back door to the kitchen.
“Yeah, it is nice. With a breeze, too. But not too heavy, which is nice because my mare Dixie will take off in heavy winds. She doesn’t like it one bit,” I said, handing him a towel while he washed his hands.
“Thank you.”
“I made veggie omelets, bacon, and biscuits,” I said, turning away from that darn grin that was starting to make my knees weak.
“Perfect. It smells great. Thank you, Helen,” he said, as he sat down at the kitchen table.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Yes, please.”
I poured him a cup of coffee and placed it in front of him near the sugar bowl and creamer. A very odd sensation came over me, and for a second, it was as if I was serving breakfast to my late husband. He was the last man I had served breakfast too like this. The only one, really. I shook the feeling from me and focused my attention on Dylan. He was grinning from ear to ear as he managed to make his coffee just right—two spoons of sugar and a splash of cream. Then he buttered his toast. It wasn’t until he froze and looked up at me that I realized I was staring at him and not eating at all.
“What is it?” he grinned.
“Oh nothing. You just look so enthused by the food,” I joked, but averted my attention to my own plate.
“I am. This is a good meal and enthusiasm should be had about it,” he laughed.
His laugh was contagious and made me laugh as well.
“I met Marshall out there. He seems to be a good man.”
“Yes, he’s a blessing. He’s a hired round, as we say out here. He makes his rounds from ranch to ranch.”
“This is really, really good. Mmm,” he said, pushing a fork full of omelet in his mouth.
“Thank you. It’s the butter,” I smiled.
“Marshall—he says he really could use the help,” he said. I stopped eating. I knew where he was going with this.
“Dylan—”
“Wait. Just hear me out. Just wait and let me finish, please,” he pleaded. I cocked my head to the side but stayed silent.
“You would be doing me a favor. See, I wasn’t exactly honest about why I came out here,” he said.
“Runnin’ from the law, Dylan Dawson?” I said with sass that surprised even me. He just brought it out in me somehow. I was rewarded with a big smile.
“No. But I am running away from some restlessness. I needed to get away from my life in East Texas. Just for a bit. Working with the family day in and day out, it can be a bit much. I needed a break—to be somewhere else, anywhere else but there. When I saw you at the livestock show, it brought back some good memories. I was happy here those summers and it helped to tame some of the wild inside of me. Know what I mean? Don’t you ever feel restless and need to just run away?” he asked sincerely. The grin on his face was gone and there was a maturity and deep soul in those light blue eyes that had replaced the youthful sparkle that was usually there.
I did know about being restless and wanting to run. I felt it after my husband passed and still felt it now at times. But I had nowhere to run too and the ranch needed me. But I understood what he meant and knew that he needed it.
I sighed. “Yes, I do know.”
“Alright, so I came here to run away. You would be doing me a favor by letting me stay out there in one of the bunks like I used too. I can work during the day in exchange for room and board, so you don’t need to look at it like I’m giving you pity or nothing. Just think of me as a drifter passing through needing room and board in exchange for work,” he said.
A smile came across my face that immediately turned into a giggle. “A drifter? Really?”
“Too much of a stretch?” he asked, joining me in a laugh.
“It’s a funny stretch.”
“Well, what do you say? Will you help a friend out and do me that favor, Helen? I need to be here,” he said.
I exhaled a sigh of defeat. “Fine, but just for a couple of weeks.”
“I’ll take it.” His face curled up into that sideways grin.
I shook my head at him and continued eating. He did have a light fun spirit about him, and I could feel my stress melting away just being in his compan
y. It felt nice.
After breakfast, I walked him around the ranch, and we looked at what needed to be done.
“Not much has changed. I like that,” he said, looking around.
“Yes, I don’t want to change things, but I might have to if I’m going to compete with the neighbors,” I said, looking up at the pecan trees towering over us.
“No, don’t think about them at all. What you’ve got here is traditional, a real dude ranch.”
“Thanks. So do you really want to hear some of my list?” I asked.
“Lay it on me,” he said.
“Well for starters, the stable doors expanded a bit and could use an adjustment. The tractor needs to be taken into the mechanic in town. There’s something wrong with the water pump that the guests use out in the pasture. I have the manual laying around somewhere—” I said.
“Not a problem, what else,” he said.
“Besides things that need fixing, I just need general day to day help during the week. On the weekends the guests do most of the chores, but during the week it falls on Marshall and me. The usual—feeding the livestock, bringing them in from pasture, shoveling the stalls—”
“Filling the troughs, picking the horses feet, brushing coats, polishing saddles—ranch stuff,” he said.
I smiled. “Yeah ranch stuff. Like now, I need to exercise those horses and then take them out to pasture. I take them in a long train out on the trails. They have it memorized by now but it’s important to keep it routine for them. So that on the weekends, they lead the guests on their backs, instead of the guests leading them.”
“Yeah, I remember. I helped you do it a couple of times when I used to be here. Let’s get on it. You take the lead and I’ll take up the rear,” he said, as he started toward the stables.
I raised my brows. It was nice to have help, especially help that was so eager.
Fifteen minutes later I was riding lead out onto the trail. Mesquite brush was on either side with oak trees towering above in the canopy. The birds were speaking to each other and it was just a beautiful Texas day. Behind me were three horses, following in a single line. Behind them was Dylan on Foxtrot, a palomino horse.