“Dammit!” The hammer flew out of my hand and I danced around, waving my hand like some greenhorn on his first day on the job.
“Jake! Are you all right?” Cal rushed over to my side and grabbed my hand to look at my thumb.
“I’m fine. I bruised my pride more than my thumb.”
“Just the same, you should get that on ice,” Cal said.
“Yeah, yeah.” I’d been like this for days now. Ever since Julia drove away from the ranch, I’d been spending my nights tossing and turning—consuming more alcohol than I was willing to admit in the hopes I’d drop into a dreamless sleep. It didn’t really work.
Instead, I kept replaying our argument over and over in my head while I did my best to exhaust myself.
Nothing was working.
When Cal had messaged asking for some help getting the arena fencing up for his rodeo ring, I’d jumped on the opportunity to get away from the ranch.
Everywhere I looked on the property there was a reminder of Julia, which also served to point out all the mistakes I’d made—starting with the horse feed, and then it continued from there. I was failing at the one thing I’d been brought up to do.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I looked at my thumb. The nailbed was already showing a bruise and I figured I’d lose the nail.
“So, about that argument you had with Julia…” Cal said.
I glared at him wondering what part of “I didn’t want to talk about it” he didn’t understand.
Cal held his hands up. “Look, I’m just saying, it won’t hurt to talk it out. Maybe get some perspective.”
“So, are you a therapist in addition to being anex-rodeo competitor?” My question came out in a snarl and I immediately knew I’d gone too far. “Sorry—really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just not up for talking about it right now. Maybe later. Let’s finish up with this fencing and I’ll get out of your hair and go lick my wounds and ice my thumb.”
“Fair enough, but I’m around if you want to talk. I know you usually talk to Brian, but I’m here too,” Cal said handing me the hammer back.
I nodded in reply and we went back to work getting those horizontal bars in place.
“What was it like hitting the road with no permanent residence?” I asked.
Cal chuckled. “You thinking of pulling up stakes?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” All I knew was that I was deeply unhappy, and immersing myself in work wasn’t enough of a distraction.
“Well, I liked it in the beginning. I felt like I was on an exciting adventure. But there’s only so many uncomfortable beds a person can try to sleep in, and only so many overly greasy diner meals a person can eat before you start to yearn for something more permanent,” Cal said. He tapped the bar and I hammered it into the u-shaped clamp on the vertical post.
“And you’re good with putting down roots here in Poplar Springs?” I asked.
“If you’d asked me that question a year ago, I would’ve said no. But now? I am. Amy is here and this is where she wants to raise Henry. I’ve got siblings and a bio-mom here that I didn’t know about a year ago. Hell, six months ago.” Cal grabbed another bar and slotted it into the far clamp. “I’m building something here that I’d never allowed myself to dream about. A legacy of sorts.”
I was nodding my head as he talked. “Exactly. That’s what I’m doing with the ranch. As a steward of the land, it’s my job to?—”
“Whoa, hold up there, Jake. Steward? So, you see yourself as some sort of guardian or custodian for the ranch and not the owner?”
“I’m both. It’s my job to protect the ranch and everything on it for the generations to come,” I said. “It was how my father raised me.” It was how he raised all of us. Luke left to go to school andplay football out in California, but then he came back to take over the stewardship.
“But what about now?” Cal asked and I shook my head, unsure what he was talking about.
“What do you mean?”
He held his hands up pointing as he spoke. “You’ve talked about your dad and Luke and what the ranch meant to them years ago. And you’ve talked about how you want to secure the land for future generations, right?” I nodded. “So, what about the present? If you ask me, living your life worried about what someone from your past or your future might think is no way to live.”
I wanted to shout at him, but I managed to keep my voice even. “You’re new at setting down roots,” I finally said. “I have responsibilities that you wouldn’t understand.”
