"My boots can handle mud," I protested.
Winnie and Pops exchanged a Look. A very specific, pitying Look.
"Your Dior boots?" Winnie drawled. "The ones literally 3% of the population can afford?"
"...Fair point."
"There’s a store in town," Pops said. "Murdoch’s. They got everything you need. Good prices, quality stuff. You should go tomorrow. Stock up before you’re workin’ in your boxers."
The mental image of me mucking stalls in silk boxers was both hilarious and horrifying.
"I can take him," Winnie said, spearing a green bean. "Need to pick up some feed anyway. We can make a run."
"Perfect." Pops nodded, then fixed me with a serious look. "You did good today, son."
I blinked, surprised. "I did?"
"Real good. I know it wasn't easy—hell, I know you probably wanted to quit about five minutes in—but you stuck with it. Didn't complain more than was reasonable. Put your back into it." He smiled, and it was warm, genuine. "I’m proud of you."
The words hit me square in the chest.
I’m proud of you.
Four words. Four simple words that I had spent twenty-four years chasing from my own father, jumping through hoops and corporate ladders to hear, and never once receiving. And here was Dexter Jameson, a man who had known me for exactly twenty-four hours, saying them like they were easy. Like they were free.
"Thank you," I managed, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. "That... that means a lot."
"You’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow," Pops warned. "Probably worse than today. But it gets easier. Your hands will toughen up. Your body will remember the work. Give it two weeks, and you’ll be waking up before the alarm."
"I don't know about that," I said, trying to lighten the heavy emotion in my chest. "The alarm and I are in a feud. It’s personal."
"We’ll see," Winnie said, catching my eye. There was a softness there now, the sharp edges of the morning smoothed away.
We cleared the table together—I insisted, despite my muscles protesting every movement—and by the time I headed upstairs, I was dead on my feet.
I collapsed onto the twin bed, which felt smaller than this morning but somehow softer. I should text Z back. I should check my email. I should worry about my dad and the company and the mess I’d left behind in Dallas.
But instead, I lay there in the dark, listening to the crickets outside, and thought about Pops saying he was proud of me. I thought about the way Winnie had laughed in the barn.
I set my alarm for 5:30 AM. I groaned just thinking about it.
But as I drifted off, the smell of sage and old wood settling around me, I realized something strange.
I wasn't dreading tomorrow.
God help me, I think I was actually looking forward to it.
BEAU
Small Town Shopping
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
"I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself."
– Maya Angelou
***
