But just like those choices, there’s something in the back of your mind that says,what if?
So you make the choice and hope it doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass. Hindsight is a real bitch and when it hits you… fuck. I don’t particularly like the feeling.
I’ve made a lot of bad decisions in my life, a lot of good ones too. Rejecting the offers from Rossi Enterprises has never been a bad decision. Even if I am swimming in debt I’ll never pay off in this lifetime unless some kind of miracle occurs. I’m not a religious man, but I’m not opposed to some kind of divine intervention, if such a thing exists.
Now I have another mouth to feed, and something tells me she’s going to be more work than the four ranch hands I already employ who live here, and more than the cattle and other livestock I take care of.
I’ve no idea what the hell she is doing now. It’s noon, the sun is brutally baking the ground, and I’m wet with sweat, but I haven’t seen a peep of her. With her curiosity, I almost expected her to come out and be nosy, but she’s been holed up in the house with Judge since we made our agreement.
“What the fuck is up with you?” Chase, my ranch manager, clocks me on the shoulder with his fist.
He’s been working here for most of his life. When I had to make the cuts last year, he was the only one I didn’t let go. We’ve built a small team since then, but nothing in comparison to the fifty strong I had before.
“What?” I grunt, pushing back on him, “Nothing.”
“Don’t seem like nothing.” He narrows his eyes, picking up on shit I don’t wanthim to like he always does. I suppose he could be called a friend, if I had such a thing.
“Just shit hitting the fan like always.” I go back to shoveling the shit,literally, the stench like acid in my nose.
“What now?” He asks, genuinely curious. He cares about this place as much as I do, but I suppose that’ll happen when you give something to someone who had nothing. We pulled him off the streets, gave him a warm bed and a hot meal with a purpose, and now he gives a shit about what happens. He was seething when Rossi came and fucked it all up, was fully prepared to hit up their headquarters like one man would make a single bit of difference.
“Nothing to worry about,” I tell him because Elena De Luca is no one’s problem but mine, but there’s a possibility she may be their salvation. I’m a couple months away from letting the entire team go. Granted, it ain’t much, but it gives them a job, money in their pockets and a hot meal at the end of the day, with a warm bed to stay in.
If I have to take that away…
I’ve no idea what’ll happen to my guys.
There’s no work here for them, they’d have to start over in new states, on new farms and I’m not entirely sure they’d survive it. Wyoming and the shadow of the Bighorn mountains have been all they know. The ranch life,where your day starts at 4 a.m. and ends at 10 p.m., is damn hard work, but when it’s all you’ve been taught it becomes a lifeline. Bonds are made with the horses and the dogs, the people. Your job has a purpose. Sierra Valley survives, but it no longer booms.
If we can get it back, return it like Rossi Enterprises never existed, it would do more than my ranch a favor. Money is a problem for everyone, but it didn’t used to be that way.
Under the shadow of my hat, I look toward the house. She’s in there, in that t-shirt, with her long raven hair and stormy eyes. A girl like that doesn’t belong here.
She doesn’t show herself at all while I work and when nine p.m. rolls around; I head in, a tray of food in one hand, my hat in the other. The air is cooler, but the humidity is a killer. Sweat rolls down the back of my neck, my shirt sticking to my spine, but I toe my boots off on the porch and head inside.
I find her immediately, legs hanging over the arm of the couch, her flat on her back on the cushions withanotherbottle of whiskey stolen from the office.
“For fuck’s sake,” I snatch it from her fingers.
“Hey!” She slurs, already half cut, the whites of her eyes a little bloodshot, cheeks flushed.
“Stay the fuck out of my office,” I slam the bottle on the table.
Her eyes cut to the tray of food. “Is that for me?”
“How much have you drank?” I demand, watching her pull herself up into a sitting position, swaying on the spot.
She shrugs, “Enough.”
“Stop drinking my shit,” I warn her and pass over the food. She immediately digs in, tearing into the bread that she then dips into the chicken soup one of the guys made.
“This is delicious,” She groans, ignoring my previous words. She’ll keep ignoring them, I can already tell.
“I’m going for a shower,” I grunt, leaving her to her food. Before I go upstairs to my bathroom, I divert to the office and poke my head inside, finding it still in the same way I left it in last, minus the two bottles of whiskey I’ve hidden in a cabinet in the kitchen after taking them from her. I close and pull my keys from my pocket, turning one in the lock to keep her out. Once it’s secure and safe from her thieving hands, I head up, pulling my shirt over my head and throwing it in the hamper outside the bedroom.
When I get to the bathroom, I pause at the mirror. Dirt is streaked across my face, under my nails and all over my hands, there’s dust and sand caught in the dark mess of hair on my head and my beard which could use a trim. But I’m too fucking tired to give a shit.
Hitting the button to turn on the shower, I wait for it to heat. The pipes in this house are old, the boiler on its last legs so it takes a minute but then steam begins to fill the small space, fogging up the mirror so I strip the rest of the way down and get beneath the spray, turning my face up.
