Me: Where are you headed to?
Harmony: Utah.
Me: That sounds…I don’t know how that sounds.
Harmony: Me neither. I’ve never been to Utah before.
Me: I heard the skiing is pretty good.
Harmony: I’m only there a day before we head back out. Back to Nevada, I think.
Me: Play the slots for me.
Harmony: Fingers crossed we win a landfall.
I wonder if she won a landfall if she would keep singing. She’s damn good at it, but is it what she wants, or is it just a way to make a living? I never thought to ask.
She seemed to enjoy her impromptu concert in my kitchen. I know we did. She has so much talent, I would hate to see her stop. I don’t understand how she won’t burn out with the schedule her label is pushing. It worries me. Have I earned the right to worry about her yet? I hope so.
Me: When do you get a break?
Harmony: I have a short one In a month.
Me: That’s a long time.
Harmony: I know. Will you come see me in Dallas?
Me: I can try. Depends on what’s happening here.
Harmony: I understand. I think we’re stopping to eat.
Me: Okay. Be safe.
I know I sound like an asshole when I say I’ll have to see what’s happening. That’s the thing with being a rancher, though. For the most part, I can plan out a little. That’s calving season, though, so I really have to see how things are going before I can flit off to the city. It seems like there’s always some reason I can’t get away.
“Let’s go feed,” I say.
Reacher rises and stretches before following me to the mudroom. The coveralls Harmony wore still hang on one of the hooks. I haven’t gotten around to putting them up yet. I’m sure Freud would have something to say about my actions, but he’s not here, so I’m not worried about it.
I open the door, and we step outside. It’s still cold, but at least the snow is gone. Problem is, there is mud everywhere.
“Roll in the mud, and you can sleep in the barn,” I shout as Reacher shoots past me. I had to bathe that stupid dog last night. It’s not easy for both of us to fit in my shower.
He waits for me at the barn. I open the door, and he shoots in to bark at the horses. They ignore him. They learned long ago he’s all bark and very little bite. He just looks intimidating.
“Hey, boys,” I say in greeting. Both horses are standing inside waiting for something to eat. Pretty soon they’ll be able to graze the pasture again and won’t need as much feed from me. Until them, I pour them each some grain and drop more hay in the rack.
“Have either of you come up with a plan yet on how to be two places at once? I need to live in Nashville with Harmony and still work the ranch.”
They both ignore me as they plow through their grain. Reacher is too busy nosing through the extra hay to pay any attention. With a sigh, I turn off the lights and head back outside. The dog races out behind me, almost knocking me over in his exuberance to explore.
I pull the door closed and debate sitting on the front porch until time for bed. Everything inside reminds me of her, but it’s still too cold to be out here.
“Come on, dog. Let’s go warm up. Maybe we’ll just head to bed early.”
He barks at something in the dark but follows me to the side of the house. I go through the motions of getting the house closed down for the night. When I’m done in the bathroom, I crawl into bed. It seems like the harder I try to fall asleep, the more restless I become.
I’ve never gotten used to pulling the curtains closed in my bedroom. Mom would leave them open in Travis and my roomso we could watch the trees outside blow in the breeze. It still puts me to sleep faster than anything else I’ve found.
