Kasey.
I guess the saying is true: those who kill together, stay together.
Fuck.
Is all I type back, then slip my phone back in my pocket.
Walking over to Hannah as she locks up her trailer, I step behind her and pull her against me. Her whole body melts into mine.
“I wish I could see you tonight, but I’ve got something I need to be at.” Turning, she wraps her arms around my waist.
“Don’t worry about it. I had better things to do, anyway.” Her smile turns into a shriek when I smack her ass and whisper in her ear.
“The only thing you’ll be doing, darlin’...is me.” Cheeks tinted pink, I lean down and give her a deep kiss, pushing inside and swirling my tongue around hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And with that, I walk away, climb in my truck, pull up her location so I can watch her progress to Utah, and start my drive.
Green mountains surroundme as I park next to the brick building on the main street of Park City. People pass outside my truck, window shopping and talking loudly. Summer in the mountains brings out everyone, dressed in their shorts and tank tops. Some sport an overly expensive cowboy hat bought from one of the stores that boasts “authentic gear”. I’d bet big money every single fucker who buys from them doesn’t have anauthenticbone in their body.
What’s your ETA Wilder, I’m already inside.
A text from Kasey pops up on my dash, but I swipe it away, focusing on Hannah’s little blue dot. Not long ago, it stopped moving just outside of Evanston, Wyoming. I can imagine her parked just outside the border to Utah, like crossing that invisible line will cause her pain. My fingers itch to send her a text, but trying to figure out how to explain to her how I already have her number, let alone know where she’s at, has my handsbreaking out in a panic sweat. I rub my hands over my thighs a few times, and my phone chimes with another text.
Save me bro.
I check Hannah’s dot one last time. Still hasn’t moved. Then I shut off my truck and step out into the evening air. A few women pass in front of me when I reach the sidewalk, and the way they glance back over their shoulders at me has my skin crawling. I want to growl at them, announce that I’m a taken man. Instead, I push through the glass door into the modern brick interior. A blast of cold air hits my face and I shiver at the drastic change in temperature.
“Dean Wilder, pleasure to meet you.” A man not much older than myself comes around a corner, hand outstretched. His hazel eyes don’t leave mine as we shake hands, and he introduces himself. “Glen Mitchell.” I nod my head at him and follow as he waves me past the lobby lined with black and white images of rodeo riders. I slow as I pass one in particular.Brad Wilder. The small lettering below stops me dead in my tracks. A younger version of my dad, body bent over a bull that’s got all four feet off the ground. My dad’s hat caught mid-air above him like the photographer clicked the camera a split second after it flew off my dad’s head. “I was at that rodeo. Just up the road in Oakley, actually. Man, he could ride.” Glen’s voice is full of admiration. I wish I had something more meaningful to say in response, but all that comes out is a lame, “Yeah, he was somethin’.”
“That image is what inspired me to start this company.” Careful not to touch the glass, Glen points his finger at the hat just above my dad. “I remember watching that hat fly off his head and drop into the dirt. When the buzzer went off, that was the first thing he picked up. He brushed the dust off and putit back in its place on his head.” My chin wobbles with images of the countless times Dad admonished Owen and I for leaving our hats around. Mindlessly, I reach up and pull the brim of my own black, suede hat tighter on my brow. I feel Glen's eyes on me, but don’t say anything in return. “So, I decided that night that I wanted to make something that mattered as much as that hat did to your old man.” He doesn’t press anymore, gratefully, and turns, leading the way into a back room. The moment Kasey spots me, he rolls his eyes, gesturing at the women around him, patting some form of makeup onto his face. “I’ll leave you in good hands, but please come to me if you need anything. We’re honored to have you in the Mitchell family.” Glen waves a hand at the racks of cowboy hats lining the walls before giving my arm a friendly slap, then he disappears up a set of stairs to what I assume is his office. A woman grabs my forearm and tugs me to a chair. It doesn’t take long before I want to roll my eyes as well at the fuss they make over two bronc riders who would rather be anywhere else than covered in makeup modeling hats. They are some pretty fucking awesome hats, though.
“Do y’all make hats for women?” I ask the lady applying another layer of something on my cheeks. Her fingers tip my chin back to look forward before she answers.
“You bet, they have a whole wall up front.”
hannah
I watchedDean's trailer in front of me for seven hours, reliving the morning we spent in the bed of his truck. He could have easily left me in the dust, drove straight to Utah without me. But that man kept my pace, stopped once or twice when he didn’t need to, but because he knew that I needed the breaks. But as the distance between home got smaller and smaller, my heart beat quicker and quicker. It’s been a while since I’ve been back in Oakley despite my best efforts to push away the memories rooted there. I found myself pulling my foot off the gas, letting his truck get further in front of me. Evanston was only about an hour from Oakley, and he had a photoshoot in Park City that he was already cutting close. I pulled into a gas station and decided to spend the night there before making the short drive to the arena in the morning.
“Hey, girl,” I talk softly to Queen, brushing her down in the trailer before I tuck in for the night. “I know you can feel something’s off with me.” Her nose nuzzles against my palm, and my fingers tremble, eyes filling with tears I’ve fought so hard to keep locked away. “I miss them,” is all I can get out before mybody turns on me and releases sobs so hard I have to lean on Queen to stay standing. Before I know what I’m doing, I grab a fist full of her white mane and haul myself up on her back, laying flat against her and letting my tears make rivers down her side. She’s all I’ve had for so long, a friend that time will never be able to erase from my heart. Time slips away, my body stiff and drained. I make sure Queen has feed and water before locking up the trailer and stepping into my room. My phone lights up when I plug it into the charger on my bedside table, and a picture of Dean fills the screen. I smile, remembering how he looked while he slept this morning. I couldn’t resist snapping a picture of him with the early morning sun streaking his face. His cheeks and chin dusted with neatly trimmed stubble, the lines on his forehead hardly visible in his relaxed state.
I never sleep well when the date of my parents’ death gets closer. I wish it had happened in winter. The days then would fit better than sunny, summer days that are always too happy to share with the memory of them being taken too soon. Each time I woke, I’d tap my screen, see Dean’s sleeping face, and it would help my body relax just enough to fall back asleep for a few hours. I repeated the process until the passing cars on the highway grew too loud to ignore.
After about half an hour on the road, my heart beat so hard against my chest I had to get out. Panic seized me and I took the first turn off that I could find, barely making it out of the truck in time to lose my breakfast on the side of the road. I dropped to the ground, narrowly missing my puddle of sick. Fresh tears and sobs racked my body, and I let them. I was sick of holding back my pain, but more than that, I was tired of holding back who I wanted to be. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to smile and mean it. I wanted to feel free, to feel fucking home again. God, I wish I had Dean’s number. I’d give anything to hear his voice on the other end, reassuring me that it would be ok.Get in the truck,darlin’. Just get here to me.I could almost hear his voice in my ear, and it was enough to pull me to my feet. I leaned against the guard rail, taking deep breaths.
I forgot how gorgeous Utah is. The mountains loom around you like a wall trapping you within their giant peaks. When I was younger, they felt like a cage, but the older I got, the more they felt like a beacon of freedom. If these mountains could be so ominous yet so breathtakingly beautiful, why couldn’t I? I walk around the hood of the truck and read the sign off to the side,Union Pacific Rail Trail—Echo Reservoir. I can’t stop the emotional laugh that bursts from me. I used to ride this trail with my mom and dad every Sunday when the weather was nice.
“Looks like we’re going for a ride, girl!” I call as I run back to the driver's side. Coincidence or destiny, I’m not sure. But something inside me feels different. I feel a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, I can get back to the girl I was before I lost them.
I set a new record for getting Queen saddled up and ready to head off on the trail. The parking lot has a few other trailers parked along the edges and a few cars parked in the lot, so I plan to pass a few other hikers and riders while out. Queen shifts impatiently as I stand at the tailgate loading up my backpack. Looking up at the clear blue sky, I pull out my rain jacket and toss it aside. The trail is a total of twenty-eight miles, which we won’t be completing today. I plan to ride until a couple hours before check in, and take it slow so I don’t push Queen too hard before our ride tonight. Tossing in some snacks and my phone, I zip it closed and toss it over my back before swinging onto the saddle and nudging Queen onto the trail.
When the sun gets too hot, I duck us underneath the trees, the sound of water drawing us off the trail. I watch as a few hikers pass by while Queen drinks from the cold stream and I pull a protein bar from my pack. Dropping the reins, I pull myphone out. We’ve been on the trail for about an hour passing through fields of wildflowers, their colors most vibrant before the peak of summer heat wilts them, and the hills turn from bright green to a dry brown. Counting it out in my head, I figure we can ride for an hour more before turning back and then making the thirty minute drive to Oakley. My phone still has service, so I snap a few pictures and post one to my social media page before tugging Queen into a slow walk. Birds sing above us as we meander through the trees, staying off to the side of the trail. I keep my face tilted to the sun, letting its rays beat down on me, feeling like I’m feeling its warmth for the first time in a while.
A drop lands on my forehead, snapping my eyes open as I look up at the sky. A few clouds have drifted in, starting to crowd out the sun that just moments ago bathed us in a golden midday glow.
“Shit!” Pulling Queen to a stop, I swing my pack around and fumble inside for my phone. When my fingers finally land on the hard edge I yank it out, pulling up the weather app. The screen sits loading for a moment before I realize I’ve ridden outside of reception.
“No, no, no.” Panic starts to sizzle through my veins, just as a rumble sounds in the distance. Queen is usually calm and steady, but out in the open with a storm rolling in makes me uneasy. I try to calm my nerves, hoping that Queen doesn’t pick up on the alarm bells ringing in my head. Storms in the mountains are drastically different. They can come out of nowhere and turn into a tempest quickly. Pressing my hands to my head in an effort to stay calm, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember what my dad taught me if I was caught in a storm with a horse.
Dismount, stay calm, use your body to shield your horse from the elements if necessary. Avoid open fields, tall objects, and ridges to minimize lightning strike risk.
