Chapter 6
Hadley
The sun burns my back and shoulders. I pluck another bale from the pile high on the semi, tossing it down to Kayley. She lets it bounce before bending down to grab the twine wrapped around it, swinging it up and onto the row she’s making along the barn’s southern wall. The far end of the barn is already stocked with round bales for the cattle, the old red tractor parked next to them ready for tomorrow morning’s feed out.
“You guys got a new photographer?” Kayley huffs through deep breaths, screwing her face up as she looks up to me on top of the truck load of hay.
“Unfortunately.”
“Hadley Matthew Jones.” She frowns at me, hands on her hips.
“Stop, Kales, you’re starting to sound like Mom.”
“Someone has to,” she mutters, taking the next bale I toss down and fixing it to the top of the wall of hay she’s meticulously building.
“The last one ended up in the back of an ambulance. Why don’t they send someone who knows rodeo?” I roll my head on my shoulders, letting my neck crack.
“How many rednecks know anything about taking photos, you dolt?” She tosses her glove at me. And misses.
I throw it back down.
She has a point. We want good images to promote the sport and gain sponsors. It has to be professional. And I don’t know anyone around Clinton who does that kind of thing professionally. Most folks hire talent from the bigger towns and the city when the occasion calls for it. Weddings and all that shit.
Guess we had a run of bad luck. Maybe Maggie—I think that was her name—will improve as she goes.
Kayley stands there with empty hands. “Give the girl a break. You know how infuriating you lot are to work with?” She lifts an elegant brow as she opens her arms to prove her point. “See what we have to deal with?”
I toss a bale at her.
She ducks to the side, and it hits the ground with a heavy thud.
“So incompetent.” She chuckles and swings it, tossing it to the front of the wall of bales and starting a new row. “We need to step on it, Hads. I have to have the truck back before three. Dane gets antsy if I’m late back.”
“Speaking of why we put up with?—”
A glove hits my face.
“Shut it. He gave me a job when so many others wouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s still a pain in the ass, Kales.”
“You oughta know.” She disappears around the back of the semi.
Same stupid shit in our small town, like so many other backward map-dot holes. Kayley job hunted for over eighteen months before someone would give her a decent job with a paycheck to match that of the guys in the same workplaces. This inequality shit’s gotta stop.
She works harder than most men I know. More brains than the lot put together.
The semi starts up, sending a shiver through the few remaining bales. I make quick work of them, and Kayley lines them up with the rest. That should get us through the next few weeks until the rain comes. Fingers crossed.
The cows and calves need the feed. After a hard winter, we’re biding our time until the rain arrives and the grass returns. One of my least favorite parts of ranching is being subject to the weather and its whims.
I jump down from the back of the semi and tug my shirt from where it hangs over the side mirror. Rubbing sweat from my face and neck, I watch as Kayley rolls up the tie down ratchet straps, storing them away in the metal box under the truck’s trailer.
“You doin’ another Alberta gig next month?” Kayley straightens, sending her hands into her lower back.
“Yeah, every weekend is accounted for this year. Need the points.”
“Going for the championship again this year?”
