We both clean our skillets and down our drinks then head out the back of the lodge. There’s a row of ATVs. After I put my coat back on, we hop into one and trek through the snow-covered grounds to one of the large barns. We passed a few barns, farm houses, stables, and herds of cattle. It’s one thing to hear about twenty thousand acres but it’s another to see all this land in person. For miles and miles, there’s nothing but land and I’m taking it all in.
When we pull up to a big ass stable, a brother walks out with a horse. It’s a beautiful charcoal-black mare with shiny hair and a large wreath around her neck. The horse wrangler spots us and treks over.
“What you doing out here ol’ man?” he asks my uncle.
“Seeing if you had another spot. This is my nephew I was telling you about,” Uncle Rufus says, then looks at me. “Meleck, Travis,” he says.
“Nice to meet you,” I greet him.
“Same but I have some bad news. I had a deadline to staff and I filled all my spots yesterday. I’m full. If somebody doesn’t work out though, I can let him know,” he says.
I’m disappointed as fuck but I don’t let it show. Besides, showing it or acting on it won’t change shit. I’m still in the same position, needing work and place to lay my head. I’m a firm believer in the saying if a man don’t work, he don’t eat. Even with my monthly benefits, I still work, the man that I am won’tallow me not to. Plus, I feel alive when I do, especially when I’m using my hands.
“’Preciate it,” is all I say. When he walks off with the mare, I start trekking back to the ATV. Unc follows.
“You know you’re welcome at my place. I just got to let your auntie know so she can clean that back room up for you,” he says but I already know I’m not going there.
I love my uncle down but I know his wife. She doesn’t like it when family is around. She only likes it to be her and him. She’s always been like that, even when my grandparents were alive. I’m too damn grown to stay anywhere I’m not wanted.
“Yeah, I know and I appreciate that but I’m sure I can find something. There’s a lot of ranches around here,” I assure him.
“But just know that most are staffed for the season. It might be hard, so my invitation stands. When we get back to the lodge, take my truck. I can take the Sprinter home tonight.”
“Thanks, Unc,” I tell him, really appreciative.
Chapter 2
Wren Harris
“Two, four, six, eight, ten, twelve, fourteen, sixteen, eighteen. Eighteen strawberry. Two, four, six, eight blueberry, and two, four, six, eight, ten, ten? Shit. Two more,” I say as I count the jam order for The Phoxes Den.
Talking to my bestie Reece’s crazy ass while counting was a bad idea. I’d just spent fifteen minutes on the phone with her and swear I counted and recounted at least five times. That’s what we do though; we talk each other through every damn thing. When you see her, you see me.
We’re best friends because we are basically the same damn person: hardworking cowgirls doing all we have to keep our family’s land in the family. We both have skills and hustle. While I make and sell jam and soap, she makes and sells jewelry and buckles. We are also early risers. She wakes up at the crack of dawn just like me. I just didn’t this morning and I’m rushing.
I promised Mrs. Phox this month’s order will be delivered today before nine and it’s already almost seven. I was hoping to have all my morning tasks done before seven but I’d slept in. I hate it when I hit snooze on my damn alarm. Those stupid little extra eight minutes always mess up my entire morning.
After grabbing two more jars of my peach jam, I check the lids to make sure their centers are concave then do my press test. None move or pop. They are good, so I attach theYou Jam Right!labels on them then place them in the crates.
Carefully, I carry the crates out of my canning shed and trek through the small layer of snow on the ground toward the house. Normally, I would feed my goats, collect eggs from the coop, and check on my soap, but not today. I’d actually hit snooze twice and I’m running really behind. If I don’t get in here and wake Amara’s lil ass up, she’ll never make it to school on time.
I enter the house through the back porch and place the two crates on the kitchen island. After washing my hands, I place two strips of beef bacon on the griddle side of the stove and a frozenhash-brown patty into the air fryer. Then I walk to her bedroom. As expected, she’s knocked out with a book in bed with her, and her alarm screaming.
I don’t know how she doesn’t hear that.
I rush over, smash it with the palm of my hand, then gently shake her shoulder. “Amara. Amara. A, get up!” I coax. Her body moves, barely, but she doesn’t open her eyes at all. I swear she could sleep through a damn tornado. My dad was a hard sleeper but she has it ten times worse. “A-mar-a!” I yell this time as I shake her with more force.
“What,” she slowly drags out with closed eyes.
“It’s seven. You need to get up.”
“Ten more minutes,” she whines.
“Are your clothes picked out?” I ask and she nods. “Alright. I’m going to finish your breakfast. When I come back, you have to get up, no exceptions,” I tell her and she turns onto her side.
I walk back to the kitchen, flip the bacon over, and check on her hash-brown patty. To buy time, I pour chocolate milk into a saucepan, turn it on low, then break a piece of dark chocolate into it. It simmers while I finish the bacon and plate her food.
After dividing the hot chocolate into two coffee mugs, I grab a peppermint stick and drop it into one then take both cups back with me into her room. I don’t play nice this time. After placing her cup on the table by her bed, I use the remote to power the TV on then turn the volume up high. That gets her ass up immediately.
