My best friend wanted me to check out the vines earlier in the evening. Since his return from the Army almost two years ago, he’d been lost in the idea of Cold-Climate Pinot. He’d tested the soil and run countless surveys before purchasing the land just north of my own ranch. He’d suffered through all the bureaucracy in a town that believed he was doing nothing more than indulging a hobby.
He smiled over at me from behind his truck. “Wishful thinking is all I have to go on. The first installment of my VA loan is due soon.”
That was true. My friend had leveraged everything he had on his winery making bank this season. Maybe it was a little wishful. But he needed enough to cover all his expenses and the loan installment.
“Old man Henderson wanted to know if the dirt sniffer was ready to give up and go back to the Army.” The moniker was used with more mockery than affection. “That was before he bet me you would be in San Diego by the end of the year.”
Calvin and his fiancée, Alicia, had met at the VA centre in San Diego. She’d been visiting her brother and he had been meeting about the loan and his future. Everyone assumed she was from there, but she’d been from a little suburb a little further east.
“Did you take the bet?” His voice was loud over the rain and squeal of the winch.
I raised my brow and shook my head. “I doubled it. Told him your instincts had never let me down. Don’t make me look like an idiot, Cal.”
He burst out laughing since my statement couldn’t be further from the truth. It was true the man had good instincts and I would follow him into hell if he thought it was a good idea. But the reality was, Calvin’s instincts had got us grounded and in detention more times than I could count in high school. Back then, he had promised fun not safety, though.
As the rain pelted down we continued to shoot the shit and drag the truck through the soft adobe clay. We made little headway, yet neither of us complained. It was part of life living in Cypress Cliffs. The steep hills and the wet clay.
I ducked my head around the truck. “This clay is grease. We’re not getting out of here anytime soon.”
“It’s not grease, it’s terroir.” I could hear the smile in his voice despite the miserable conditions. “The struggle is what makes the vines stronger.”
I shook my head, knowing he would not be able to see me rolling my eyes. “The struggle is making my back hurt.”
He let out a chuckle, before grunting and pushing the truck harder moving it nearly two feet. Calvin had been my best friend since freshman year in high school. We knew everything there was to know about one another, including some shit guys never really shared. His dad had taught us both to drive and how to fish. Mine had taught us how to winch a truck out of the mud and cook that very same fish. Now they were both gone, and here we were moving the vehicle at the rate of a foot every thirty minutes. What a fucking metaphor.
One more push on the lever, and winch squealed as the car moved another 3 feet. We were almost free. Calvin popped his head around the back of the truck once more. He lifted his hand to shelter his eyes from the rain. “As soon as I have a vintage pulling a hundred bucks a bottle, I am buying you a new winch.”
“Forget the winch, there’s nothing wrong with it. I’d settle for you paying off the loan so I don’t need to hire you as a ranch hand. I don’t think you’re cut out for ranch work.”
That was a lie and we both knew it. There were few people I knew who worked harder than me. My best friend was one of them. The fact that he would be ready to harvest in a few weeks was a testament to all his hard work. He didn’t have much help, and had done pretty much everything himself. Still, giving each other shit helped pass the time under otherwise miserable circumstances. Not that it was the first time we’d been in this situation. The first time we’d done it by ourselves was when we were eighteen. Most recently, it had been a few weeks back and I had to admit my body was getting tired of this shit. We needed better tires or newer trucks.
“You remember that one Christmas break when we both were home from college and we tried going on a double date and got stuck on this exact spot?” The rain had let up a little and I didn’t need to shout quite as loud. “Both girls sat in the front while we tried to move your truck.”
Calvin let out a chuckle and stood to the side. “As I recall, neither of us got lucky that night.”
“No, we did not.” The two women were tourists. We wanted to take them to our spot. Well, it was a make-out spot at the top of one of the cliffs, but we never got there and instead took the girls back to their hotel.
I gave another pull on the lever as Calvin pushed the car from behind. A light flashed inside the car, closely followed by Calvin’s phone’s ringtone.
“Who the fuck is calling you at this time of the night?” I frowned at him as he pulled a hand free from his glove.
He opened the car door and pulled out his phone. His head tilted, and he frowned at me. He lifted a hand to me. “This is a… Navy colleague. Alicia’s brother gave me his number in case I ever needed help. Never said anything about him calling me, though.”
The phone continued to ring. I gestured toward the phone. We both got into the cab. Calvin, so he could hear what the man on the other end had to say over the noise of the rain, and me because… well, I was inquisitive.
“Hello.” Calvin’s voice was skeptical.
“Lieutenant Calvin Sterling?” The other man’s voice was confident as it filled the cab.
Both Calvin and I frowned. No one addressed him by his rank. Calvin didn’t miss a beat, though. “Lieutenant John Keegan. A call from you at eight-thirty on Tuesday night can never be good.”
“Please call me Tex.” The other man let out a small chuckle as he spoke. “I believe you are in a unique position to help me. Are you alone?”
Calvin eyed me, but continued. “No. I am with my friend. Rafe Vierra. But you can trust him.”
“Aah yes.” Tex sounded as if he was smiling. “The rancher who could definitely benefit from this situation.”
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. Not the fact that the man seemed to think he knew my business. Or how he seemed to think he had a solution for me.
