“They’re afraid of Rita.”
“They should be.”
When we finally collapse, the room smells like sex and the vanilla candle that Boone swears all women love.
I am not one of those women.
“So,” Wyatt says, “the festival went well.”
“Rita only committed a couple crimes,” I agree. “That’s below average.”
“And our families managed six hours without violence,” Jesse adds. “That’s above average.”
“Madison behaved,” Boone adds. “She didn’t come after you, Jesse.”
“I think her new guy had her on a leash.”
“Thank God.”
From outside comes the sound of hooves on the roof. Rita must have escaped again.
“How does she do it?” Jesse asks the ceiling.
“She’s Rita,” we all say together.
“Should we get her down?” Boone asks.
“She’ll come down when she’s ready.”
“Or when she’s eaten all the shingles.”
I lie there, surrounded by three men who drove me crazy, drove me away, then drove me right back home. Above us, is a goat who lives for mayhem. Outside, there’s a town that’s still talking about us but now with amusement.
Six months ago, I asked the universe for a little peace.
Instead, I got three cowboys with a manual for optimized intimacy, a goat with political aspirations, a father dating the town blogger, and a happily-ever-after loud enough to wake the whole valley.
You done good,as my mother would have said.
“Hey,” Jesse says suddenly. “We should combine the ranches.”
“Into what?” Boone asks.
“One massive operation. Merge everything.”
“That’s how corporate monopolies start,” I point out. “Next thing you know, we’re evil.”
“We’re already kind of evil,” Wyatt says. “We traumatized Madison and broke the town’s entire social structure.”
“That’s not evil, that’s community service,” Jesse argues.
“We could open a therapy ranch,” Boone suggests. “For people with feud-related trauma.”
“So... everyone in Cedar Ridge?”
“Exactly. Built-in customer base.”
“Wow. Just wow, you guys,” I say.
