I got a blow job in the back of the blue chevy on the back road that runs by the pasture to the east and I thought it would always be my favorite spot on the ranch, but then the next summer I lost my virginity under the weeping willow in the height of the unbearable heat of summer.
This place holds a lot of memories for me, but I know it holds even more memories for Pops, and I should bear that in mind when I talk to him.
After my long walk back to the house, I find Pops on the porch, sitting in his favorite rocker in the dark. Despite the day being warm, the night breeze lends a steady chill that bites through my thin T-shirt.
I walk slowly, not eager to have this conversation again. This time, I’ll tread more carefully. When my boot hits the step, Pops’ face creases into a smile and he gestures to the chair next to him in silent invitation. “Where’d you wander off to after supper? I thought you got lost out there.”
I shoot him a deadpan stare that makes him chuckle. I’ve been wandering this place since I could walk. No matter how much time passed between visits, I’d always be able to find my way back to the old farmhouse.
“Maybe just lost in thought then,” he says, shifting deeper into the rocker and closing his eyes. The old chair creaks as he pushes it back and forth.
I lean back and clasp my hands behind my head, taking in the night sky. “Maybe,” I murmur.
“You gonna share what’s been on your mind? Got another message to relay from that son of mine, maybe?”
I glance back over at Pops. He feels my gaze and cracks an eye open. His mustache twitches, but he doesn’t say anything else, just sits patiently and lets me gather my thoughts.
The words I want to say keep getting all mixed and muddled in my head. I’ve never been one to talk about feelings, to know the right words to say when it comes down to it.
Maybe that’s why Hannah left. Any words I had for her were always inadequate.
Suddenly, I feel wrong for the task my father gave me. I don’t know what to say or how to say it to make Pops see things our way. That’s obvious by how easily he roped me in to staying here the first time we talked.
Inadequate perfectly describes how I feel now.
I swallow the gravel stuck in my throat. “We know how much you love this place, but with your health not being what it used to be, selling the ranch is in your best interest.”
Pops’ eyes are still closed, but his lips are turned down into a frown and the chair continues to rock. The familiar creaking of the chair going back and forth soothes my nerves, and I trudge on.
"Being out here, working with you this last week, has reminded me how physical this job is. Are you even supposed to be out working cattle at all with your health the way it is?” I don’t wait for an answer, but trudge on. "It’s not something you can do anymore, even with Tripp’s help. You have to take care of yourself.
"I know what it means to you. This place is special. There’s no denying that. But it’s time for you to be closer to us. Where there’s a good hospital and family nearby."
When I’m finished speaking, silence falls. The only sound is the wind crinkling the leaves, slowly discoloring in the trees and the lowing of thecattle in the distance. The rocking chair has stopped its creaking, and I glance over to see Pops’ chest rise and fall with his deep breaths. His eyes are still closed, and his features have gone slack. I’m about to nudge him when a low snore rumbles through his nose and out of his mouth with a gentlepahsound.
I groan as I lean back and shake my head. So much for airing it all out tonight. The old man is fast asleep.
A Diabolical Plan
Sawyer
Gravel crunches under big tires, and I glance out the window to find Pops pulling up to the house in his truck. Dixie barks as she follows his truck up the driveway. I top my braid with a hat, tug on my boots, and am on my porch by the time his door slams closed.
I squint against the sun that’s still too low in the sky to be blocked out by the hat. “Hey, neighbor,” I say as he pats Dixie on the head and gives her a brief scratch behind the ears.
Pops shuffles toward me, a little slower than usual, making me think he must be sore this morning. He lifts the small casserole dish he’s carrying. “Thought I’d bring this back to ya. It’s been in my cupboard for about a month now.”
It’s been there longer than that, but I’m not going to call him out on it. I hadn't expected to see it again.
I extend my hand for the dish, and he cocks his head to the side. “Is that coffee I smell brewing? Mind if I sit and have a cup with ya?”
I’m caught off guard by the request, but I open my screen door and gesture him inside.
He grunts as he plops into a chair. “Thanks, darlin’,” he says as I set the cream in front of him and pour him a cup of coffee.
“You know I love having you here, but I have a feeling you’re here for more than just the caffeine fix.” I lift a skeptical brow.
He takes a swig of his coffee and sighs heavily. “Wes and Tripp have the ranch in hand today. I had some things I needed to speak to you about.”
