“Goddamn it,” I grunt as I use the pliers to take off the horseshoe.
“Easy, girl,” I hear my foreman Otis say as he coos to the horse.
I roll my eyes and get back to the business of cleaning up her hooves and doing the real work. But we both know he’s the horse whisperer, especially when it comes to the females. They all give me a side eye, but I’m used to it. They let me do what I need to so I can take care of them, but they’re not running over to see me when I come to the fence like old Otis. It might also be that he keeps apples in his pockets for them. Cheater.
Otis has worked on this farm longer than I’ve been alive. He ran the place for my grandfather and then my father until he passed away when I was ten. He ran everything until I was old enough to take over, and he’ll be here until his last days. We had a talk about it once when I asked him why he never got married or had a family. He told me I was all the family he needed, and he didn’t want to be anywhere else.
I’ve thought about that as I’ve gotten older and realized maybe I’m in the same boat. I don’t remember my grandparents, and my mom took off after I was born. Women are nothing but trouble, so maybe Otis has the right idea.
I toss the old horseshoe in the bucket and step away to let the horse run. She trots over to Otis to get her treat and then out into the pasture with the other horses. I’ve been up since four this morning taking care of them, and I’m worn out. But as the cool breeze of fall creeps over the hill, I know winter is coming, and there’s lots to be done before the first snow.
“The boys in the barn got the sheep inoculated,” Otis says as he grabs his gear and we make our way to the other side of the fence.
“Good.” I toss my tools in the back of the Gator and get in the driver's seat. Otis is slow, but I’m used to it and wait for him to catch up.
“You want to check out that fencing on the east side?” he asks as he gets in beside me.
“Yeah.”
Otis said I never like to waste words on small talk, and maybe he’s right. Why say more than a man needs to? I’m not one to chatter on just for the sake of it. I’ve got work to do, and I expect it to get done.
This ranch is over two hundred acres, and I’ve got a team of workers that make the place run. I could sit back and let them do it, but that’s not who I am. This land is in my blood, and it’s the reason I wake up before the sun and I’m the first one in the barn every morning. I’ve got some cattle and sheep that make enough money to pay the staff, but after striking oil when my grandfather was a young man, we’ve never had to worry about money.
When we get to the land by the stream, there’s a mama cow and her calf playing in the water. I grab my tools and go over to the fencing where something has knocked it over. Otis is slow to join me, but I wave him off when he tries to help. The old man doesn’t need to be out here lifting lumber when we both know his strengths lie in telling me what to do.
“Make sure you do that one from behind so it’s stronger than the way it was done before,” he says, and I shake my head.
“Pretty sure you were the one that did it before.” I do as he says because we both know he’s right.
“I was young and stupid once, just like you.” He laughs at his own joke as I nail the wood into place.
After I fix the fence, we both get into the Gator, but I don’t take off right away. For a moment we sit there and watch the baby calf with its mama drinking from the creek.
“Did you call that number I gave you?” Otis asks and I nod. “When is she supposed to be here?”
I check my watch and start the Gator up. “Soon.”
“You might not like that I found someone to clean your place, but you need it. That place is a pigsty.”
I grumble as I take off back to the barn and wave to the guys leaving for the day. It’s quitting time, and I know they’ve done all the chores before knocking off. I drive the extra trail to Otis’s cabin and let him off at the front so he doesn’t have to walk.
“Just try and be nice,” he warns me, and I look away.
“I am.”
“Okay then, try and be conversational.” He stands there staring until I shrug. “Clay, look at me.”
When I finally turn to face him, he’s got that look in his eyes like he’s upset. It’s the same look he gave me after my father died. “What?”
“You might think I’m an old lonely man, but I had your father and then you as family for all these years.” He reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Just don’t make up your mind too quickly, okay?”
My eyebrows pull together in confusion, and before I can ask what the hell that means, he’s gone. I sit there for a long moment trying to understand the ramblings of that old man and decide maybe he’s losing it. I put the Gator in gear and make my way to the big house. It’s the house my grandparents built after they got the land and struck it rich. It’s bigger than I need, but I think they’d hoped to fill it with children.
My grandmother died in childbirth and my grandfather never remarried. After my dad grew up he brought my mom out here, but she was a city girl and hated the farm the second she laid eyes on it. She ran out of here as fast as she could, but my dad made sure he got me in the divorce. Last I heard she’d remarried and moved out of the country, but I didn’t do much checking up on it.
The thing I love most about this house is the big wraparound porch that faces the sunset. My favorite thing to do at the end of the day is sit out here and watch the sky light up. I kick off my muddy boots and take a seat in the porch swing as the fall air turns crisp. I take my Stetson off and set it beside me as I brush the black hair out of my face. It’s so damn long it’s annoying, but I hate going into town for a cut.
As the sun goes down, the sky lights up with pinks and purples like a unicorn threw up on it. I can’t say I hate it. In the distance I see dust stirring up, and a car comes over the hill as it makes its way towards the big house.
I check my watch and see that Dorothy Spencer is right on time. I like punctuality, so maybe this will work out after all.
Otis wasn’t lying when he said my place was a pigsty. One thing I’ve never been good at is cleaning up, and it’s gotten to the point where I don’t even know where to start. Otis said he knew a woman in town that was looking for work and I figured I could give an old lady something to do and throw some cash her way.
He also said she needed a place to stay, and luckily I’ve got an extra room that I don’t go into that’s clean. It’s a little dusty from never being used, but it’s clear of clutter and dishes. I think my grandparents wanted it to be another nursery because it’s small, but I put a twin bed in there for her.
I put my hat back on and stand up to greet her and help take her bag. I might be quiet and grouchy, but I can at least be polite.
The old beat-up car pulls to a stop in the front of the house, and I do my best to smile. It’s not something I do very often so I’m a little rusty. After a second the car turns off and the driver’s side door opens. The sun has set enough that it’s dark out and I can’t see inside the car.
Suddenly she steps out, but where I expect to see an old lady, instead there’s a young woman with straight blond hair and eyes the color of honey wheat in October. She stands there with a plaid shirt tied at the waist and worn jeans that cling to her curvy legs.
Her full lips part and she cocks her head to the side. “Hey, I’m Dorothy.”
“Fuck.”