Chapter 1
Meleck Baker
The feel of soft but unwanted hands on my shoulder causes me to raise my Jaxson from my face. The thick brim of my hat was doing a great job of blocking the sunlight so I could sleep, at least it had been until now.
“Sorry,” Mrs. Bea rushes out when I turn to face her. “I’ve been calling your name but you won’t budge. We’ve stopped,” she says. After placing my hat on my head, I sit up and see she’s right, the bus has stopped and it’s half empty. The aisles are filled with people exiting and only the back half of the bus has people sitting. “Do you mind grabbing my bag?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am. As soon as they move,” I tell her and she smiles.
For the first five hours of my ride, I’d been lucky enough to have this row to myself. I took full advantage and stretched my long legs out. However, when we stopped in Memphis, Mrs. Bea—along with a few other passengers—got on and she sat right next to me. Because I was raised right, I got up, placed her bags in the overhead, and offered her the choice of the window seat I was in. She graciously took it and would have kept me up with her talking if I wasn’t partially deaf in my left ear. It’s a blessing and curse and for these last six hours of my ride, it’s been a blessing.
“You got family here?” she asks while we wait to get off.
“My uncle is here.”
“That’s good. Holidays aren’t the same without family,” she says.
Since the aisle is clearing out, I stand and open the overhead. The bags have shifted a little, so I adjust them, grab my large rucksack, her cane, and her small piece of luggage. After tossing my rucksack over my shoulder, I raise the handle of her bag and reach out to assist her with my other. When she’s up, I move back so she can walk ahead of me. I assist her again when she steps down.
“Thank you, sweetie.”
“You’re welcome. It’s cold out here. Let’s go inside.”
“Oh, I’m fine. My daughter is right over there and she’s single,” she says, then nods toward a tall sista walking over to us. “I don’t see a ring on your finger and Camille likes cowboys just like her mommie. You remind me so much of my Henry. God rest his soul. Milk chocolate, ruggedly handsome, and that smile. Chile…” She smirks, then winks.
I just shake my head. Mrs. Bea is a trip and I’m not interested in her daughter. I’m in town just for the season to work. All I can give a woman involves me between her legs, not in her life. I’m never around long enough. I’m not what she wants for her daughter.
“I’m just here for the season, ma’am,” I tell her.
“But you never know,” she says, then turns to her daughter who just stepped over. “Camille, this is Meleck. He kept me company on the bus and helped me get my bag.”
“Thank you for helping her,” Camille says.
“No problem,” I tell her.
“Thanks? Is that all you have to say? Girl,” Mrs. Bea huffs, then steps closer to her daughter. “He’s handsome and no ring,” she says in a lower tone but even with my limited hearing in one ear, I can still hear her. Camille looks embarrassed as shit, so I speak up to bring this awkward interaction to an end.
“My ride should be pulling up. I gotta go,” I lie. I haven’t even ordered a ride.
“Well, okay,” Mrs. Bea sighs. “You have a Merry Christmas and thanks for keeping me company.”
“Merry Christmas, ma’am,” I say and walk off.
Miller’s Pointe is a small town and it doesn’t have an actual Panther Express station. This stop looks to be in the middle of town and there’s only a small covered area in front of this Campfire Coffee shop. It’s too damn cold to be waiting outside, so I walk into the shop.
While I wait for my cup of black coffee, I pull my phone out and reread the text messages from my Uncle Rufus. Following his instructions, I book an iDrive to The Phoxes Den. My unc has been working there for years and he’s putting me on.
Finding gigs as a seasonal ranch hand isn’t easy. It’s all about connections. I ended up at Prairie Ridge in Missouri because of my battle buddy, Jamal. His people knew the rancher there and they got me on for six months.
Seasonal is just that, for a season. Once winter came, like most ranches, the owners skimmed back on the number of ranch hands. Only major ranchers with multiple streams of income survive and thrive during winters. The Phoxes Den is one of them. During the winter months, the ranch hosts guests and large parties in its luxury Airbnb. They have access to all ranch activities, so teams of seasonal ranch hands are needed and hired.
Ranching isn’t new to me. I grew up on my grandparents’ small ranchette in Montana. I learned how to care for animals, toil soil, and buck hay side by side with them. When I lost them, I joined the military. However, two years ago, my life took an unexpected turn. My twelve years in the Army came to an end after my annual physical. Years of repeated, unprotected exposure to loud noises over my tenure of service had damaged my ear and a H3 hearing profile made me unfit for duty. My DD-214 shows an honorable discharge.
Living a regimented and structured life has its perks, but also some drawbacks. My location and even the style of home I had was prescribed by the Army. I went where they mandated for their required time period. That shit has changed now. I go where I want and for how long I choose. My days are spent out in nature, under God’s great sky, and at night I can sleep under that same sky and count stars till I fall asleep.
“Baker,” the cashier calls out and I walk up and grab my coffee and cornbread muffin.
Three minutes later, my ride pulls up and I walk out. I spend the next thirty-five minutes enjoying the views as we go through the small town then out to the open road with fewer homes and buildings the further we go. I’m glad he knows where we’re going because the lack of street signs on many of the roads would stress me out.
