Near and Far
Page 27
I hadn’t seen a wolf pack since, but I’d heard them plenty of times, and I’d had to account for a handful of the herd they’d taken out too. To Dad, it was just a part of the business. We’d lose some to natural causes, sickness, and predators; that was the price of being in the cattle business. But to me, it somehow seemed more personal. A formidable, strong predator going after an innocent calf. I’d been ranching a long time, and I knew it was part of the great circle, but my heart didn’t quite accept it. See? Damn hippy heart . . .
“You know, I’d love to mind my own business. That’s what I normally do because that’s what I’m good at.” Garth and Rebel bumped up beside Sunny and me as we finished checking the herd. “But you know what happened when I was minding my own business last summer? I got a call to come help find poor little Jesse Walker who might have gone over Suicide Ridge.”
“No one twisted your arm.”
“No, no one did. But who else was going to save you if it wasn’t me? Because, let’s face it, I’m the biggest, baddest badass out there, Walker. You want me on your side when you tumble over Suicide Ridge.”
Surprisingly, doing watches with Garth the past month had been nice. The one up side to him running his mouth all the time was that it kept my mind off of other things.
“I don’t know, Black. I seem to remember a girl beating you to the saving-me punch.”
“Yeah, a girl who didn’t have a rope or any other way to actually get you or her out of that ravine.”
I shoved him hard enough he slid in his saddle but not so hard he fell right off of it. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“Speaking of on your side . . .” Garth lifted his chin, looking over my shoulder.
Glancing over, I saw Old Bessie bouncing through the field, heading our way. I sighed. I really didn’t like it when Jolene drove Old Bessie. Not because I was chauvinistic and didn’t want a woman driving my truck, but because it smelt like her for a solid week afterward. That fruity perfume she liked always overpowered Rowen’s softer, earthier scent, and I didn’t like that. I might be pathetic, but I’d take Rowen however I could get her, even if that was just from her scent permeating my truck.
But now it would smell like Jolene. Fruity. Overpowering. Solid week. Plus, I still hadn’t quite gotten over her top-snatching stunt at the swimming hole.
I sighed. “Why does she always have to drive my truck?”
“Because at least she gets to go for a ride in or on something of yours,” Garth replied instantly, right before shoving me. A much harder shove than I’d just given him.
Before I knew it, I was crashing into the dirt. Thankfully, I’d fallen on my good arm. “Shit, Garth”—I sat up and dusted myself off—“I take back that whole ‘I want you on my side’ thing.” Sunny had spooked a bit when I’d flown off but hadn’t gone far.
“Oh, my goodness! Jesse, are you okay?” Jolene flew out of Old Bessie, sprinting my way like I’d just lost a limb.
“Oh, no, Jesse. Are you okay?” Garth matched Jolene’s voice . . . or at least tried to. “What can I do to help you? Massage your sore, bruised muscles? Ride your stallion stick until you’re red in the face? Motorboat my huge titties in your face until your pain goes away? What can I do to be of service?”
“Do me a favor and shut the hell up, Black?” I said, standing.
“Shutting up? Not my strong suit.”
“Ha. Name one strong suit you have other than cussing, drinking, and getting women into your bed.”
Garth’s smile stretched wide. “Shoving your ass off your horse.”
I moved lightning fast, but Garth had been expecting it and reined Rebel to the side. He wasn’t fast enough. I caught his leg, gave it a hard tug, and Garth Black was eating some dirt for dinner, too.
“I hate you, Walker.” Garth spit dirt from his mouth, rolling onto his back.
“I love you too, buddy.”
“Scratch that. I f**king hate you.”
“Aww, sweetie. You’re so thoughtful.” Patting his cheek, I jumped out of the way as his leg swung at me. “Be a good boy and stay put while I go get dinner.”
“And you be a bad boy and get an extra blow for me from Miss Hooter-ific bouncing your way. Damn, I love a girl who believes the less support when it comes to her bra, the better.”
I went to intercept Jolene since she must have been bringing dinner, although she was still jogging my way with a worried look. I didn’t feel like dealing with her never-ending conversations, her urge to touch me at any and every whim, or her asking me every five seconds about how Rowen and I were doing. Jolene was a nice girl and all, but she didn’t exactly get the concept of personal space, physically or emotionally. I didn’t want to talk about my girlfriend with some acquaintance, and I didn’t want to be hugged every time I said something funny. Not to mention, Jolene had walked in on me changing so many times, I was pretty sure she knew what my butt looked like better than I did.
Jolene stopped jogging when she was a few yards in front of me. “Are you okay? That was a nasty spill!”
“Yeah, I’m fine. That was nothing.” I’d fallen off a horse as many times as I’d mowed the lawn. It came with the territory.
“Is there anything I can do? I’ve got a first aid kit with me . . . and I’ve been told I can work some serious magic with these fingers.” Jolene stepped behind me, dropped her hands on my shoulders, and rolled my muscles between her fingers. Not only was it a strange thing to suggest after someone had just fallen off a horse—a massage, really?—but it made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to another woman’s touch, and having her hands on me felt strange.
“I’ll go grab dinner.” I stepped away from Jolene’s hands and headed for Old Bessie.
“I’ll help.” Jolene jogged beside me. “How’s Rowen doing? I haven’t seen her in a while. You two okay?”
I worked my tongue into my cheek so I wouldn’t reply immediately. I tried to speak respectfully to everyone, with maybe Garth as the exception. That was just the way I’d been brought up, but Jolene was making it very hard. She’d asked me not even two days ago how Rowen and I were doing. My answer was the same. “She’s doing great. We’re doing great. Thanks for asking.”
“Oh. Well that’s good.” Her voice had lost all of its bubbliness. “Are you going to marry her?”
“Jolene,” I warned, stopping in place. I didn’t want to have that conversation with her or anyone.
“Well? Are you?” She was dead serious.
“Why do you want to know? What difference does it make to you?”
“Because I want to know,” she said with a shrug. “And yes, it does make a difference.”
I generally found myself confused somewhere along the way when I talked with Jolene, but it had barely taken thirty seconds to get me stumped during that conversation. “Why? What possible difference could it make to you if I do or do not want to marry Rowen?”
Jolene’s face fell. “Are you serious? You really don’t know?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “No, I really don’t know. Why in the world would I?” Women are a complicated species. Dad had drilled that into me—and then I’d learned it on my own—but damn if that woman and that conversation didn’t bring that complicated attribute to new levels.
Jolene studied me for a few more seconds, searching me for something. Finally, she dropped her gaze, crossed her arms, and marched over to the driver’s side door. “Your dinner’s in the bed. You can get it yourself.”
And I’d pissed her off. I was really winning at life these days.
Only because it was my truck did I kick the tire when I came around the bed. I grabbed the couple of paper bags of food but would have to come back from the cooler since it didn’t look like Jolene was planning on leaving the cab. I’d definitely pissed her off . . . although I didn’t know what I’d said or done exactly to do so.
When I made it to the tree where Garth was camped out enjoying some shade, I dropped the bags on his lap. “Thanks for the help.”
Garth shoved the bags aside and waved his finger at me. “You’ve got all the help any man could possibly need stewing over there in your truck.”
I double checked to make sure Garth and I were seeing the same thing. Yep, Jolene was still pissed. “In case you’re losing your vision, that’s not a look of helpfulness on Jolene’s face. She is most definitely not in a helping mood right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering if I should go apologize. “I said something to upset her . . . but I don’t know what.”
“Shit, Jess. You weren’t over there for longer than two minutes. What were you chatting about that could have hurt poor Jolene’s feeling so?” Garth kicked out his legs, crossed his ankles, and laid down like he was ready for a nap.
“I don’t know. All we did was talk about dinner, Rowen, and if I wanted to marry her one day.”
“Marry who?”
I gave him a look. He knew who I was talking about and was just messing with me.
“Marry. Who?” Garth repeated.
“Marry you, shithead,” I said, kicking the heel of his boot. “Rowen. Marry Rowen.” I couldn’t believe I had to clarify that.
“Oh, well that’s why.”
“That’s why what?”
Garth rolled his eyes before closing them. “That’s why Miss Peace Corps Montana is pissed. You mentioned marriage and Rowen in the same sentence, and I’m guessing there was no addition of polygamy and Jolene.”
“No. No mention of Jolene or polygamy.”
“Hmm, you know, it’s too bad it’s not legal in this state because I might actually turn into the marrying type if I could have a dozen wives.”
“You can’t even take care of yourself. How do you think you’d be able to take care of twelve wives?”
Garth shrugged. “I don’t know. But I sure wouldn’t mind trying.”
“Nice digression, there, but could we get back on point, please? What would make Jolene so upset about me mentioning I want to marry Rowen one day?” I knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of Rowen, and Rowen of her. Some personalities just didn’t click. Rowen’s and Jolene’s definitely didn’t click.
“Questions like that one really make me question your intelligence, Walker.” Garth’s eyes opened just long enough to say the next part. “Jolene likes you. That’s why she’s got her panties in a bunch because you mentioned Rowen and the M word.”
“I know she likes me. I’m a likable guy.”
“Oh my god, shit-for-brains. Jolene doesn’t just like you because you’re a ‘likable guy’”—seeing Garth make air quotes almost made me laugh—“she likes you because she wants you to hump her this way, that way, and another way you didn’t even dream was possible. Oh, and after that, she wants you to put a ring on her finger and let her play house.”
“You know, I’d love to mind my own business. That’s what I normally do because that’s what I’m good at.” Garth and Rebel bumped up beside Sunny and me as we finished checking the herd. “But you know what happened when I was minding my own business last summer? I got a call to come help find poor little Jesse Walker who might have gone over Suicide Ridge.”
“No one twisted your arm.”
“No, no one did. But who else was going to save you if it wasn’t me? Because, let’s face it, I’m the biggest, baddest badass out there, Walker. You want me on your side when you tumble over Suicide Ridge.”
Surprisingly, doing watches with Garth the past month had been nice. The one up side to him running his mouth all the time was that it kept my mind off of other things.
“I don’t know, Black. I seem to remember a girl beating you to the saving-me punch.”
“Yeah, a girl who didn’t have a rope or any other way to actually get you or her out of that ravine.”
I shoved him hard enough he slid in his saddle but not so hard he fell right off of it. “Fine. I’ll admit it. I’m glad you’re on my side.”
“Speaking of on your side . . .” Garth lifted his chin, looking over my shoulder.
Glancing over, I saw Old Bessie bouncing through the field, heading our way. I sighed. I really didn’t like it when Jolene drove Old Bessie. Not because I was chauvinistic and didn’t want a woman driving my truck, but because it smelt like her for a solid week afterward. That fruity perfume she liked always overpowered Rowen’s softer, earthier scent, and I didn’t like that. I might be pathetic, but I’d take Rowen however I could get her, even if that was just from her scent permeating my truck.
But now it would smell like Jolene. Fruity. Overpowering. Solid week. Plus, I still hadn’t quite gotten over her top-snatching stunt at the swimming hole.
I sighed. “Why does she always have to drive my truck?”
“Because at least she gets to go for a ride in or on something of yours,” Garth replied instantly, right before shoving me. A much harder shove than I’d just given him.
Before I knew it, I was crashing into the dirt. Thankfully, I’d fallen on my good arm. “Shit, Garth”—I sat up and dusted myself off—“I take back that whole ‘I want you on my side’ thing.” Sunny had spooked a bit when I’d flown off but hadn’t gone far.
“Oh, my goodness! Jesse, are you okay?” Jolene flew out of Old Bessie, sprinting my way like I’d just lost a limb.
“Oh, no, Jesse. Are you okay?” Garth matched Jolene’s voice . . . or at least tried to. “What can I do to help you? Massage your sore, bruised muscles? Ride your stallion stick until you’re red in the face? Motorboat my huge titties in your face until your pain goes away? What can I do to be of service?”
“Do me a favor and shut the hell up, Black?” I said, standing.
“Shutting up? Not my strong suit.”
“Ha. Name one strong suit you have other than cussing, drinking, and getting women into your bed.”
Garth’s smile stretched wide. “Shoving your ass off your horse.”
I moved lightning fast, but Garth had been expecting it and reined Rebel to the side. He wasn’t fast enough. I caught his leg, gave it a hard tug, and Garth Black was eating some dirt for dinner, too.
“I hate you, Walker.” Garth spit dirt from his mouth, rolling onto his back.
“I love you too, buddy.”
“Scratch that. I f**king hate you.”
“Aww, sweetie. You’re so thoughtful.” Patting his cheek, I jumped out of the way as his leg swung at me. “Be a good boy and stay put while I go get dinner.”
“And you be a bad boy and get an extra blow for me from Miss Hooter-ific bouncing your way. Damn, I love a girl who believes the less support when it comes to her bra, the better.”
I went to intercept Jolene since she must have been bringing dinner, although she was still jogging my way with a worried look. I didn’t feel like dealing with her never-ending conversations, her urge to touch me at any and every whim, or her asking me every five seconds about how Rowen and I were doing. Jolene was a nice girl and all, but she didn’t exactly get the concept of personal space, physically or emotionally. I didn’t want to talk about my girlfriend with some acquaintance, and I didn’t want to be hugged every time I said something funny. Not to mention, Jolene had walked in on me changing so many times, I was pretty sure she knew what my butt looked like better than I did.
Jolene stopped jogging when she was a few yards in front of me. “Are you okay? That was a nasty spill!”
“Yeah, I’m fine. That was nothing.” I’d fallen off a horse as many times as I’d mowed the lawn. It came with the territory.
“Is there anything I can do? I’ve got a first aid kit with me . . . and I’ve been told I can work some serious magic with these fingers.” Jolene stepped behind me, dropped her hands on my shoulders, and rolled my muscles between her fingers. Not only was it a strange thing to suggest after someone had just fallen off a horse—a massage, really?—but it made me uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to another woman’s touch, and having her hands on me felt strange.
“I’ll go grab dinner.” I stepped away from Jolene’s hands and headed for Old Bessie.
“I’ll help.” Jolene jogged beside me. “How’s Rowen doing? I haven’t seen her in a while. You two okay?”
I worked my tongue into my cheek so I wouldn’t reply immediately. I tried to speak respectfully to everyone, with maybe Garth as the exception. That was just the way I’d been brought up, but Jolene was making it very hard. She’d asked me not even two days ago how Rowen and I were doing. My answer was the same. “She’s doing great. We’re doing great. Thanks for asking.”
“Oh. Well that’s good.” Her voice had lost all of its bubbliness. “Are you going to marry her?”
“Jolene,” I warned, stopping in place. I didn’t want to have that conversation with her or anyone.
“Well? Are you?” She was dead serious.
“Why do you want to know? What difference does it make to you?”
“Because I want to know,” she said with a shrug. “And yes, it does make a difference.”
I generally found myself confused somewhere along the way when I talked with Jolene, but it had barely taken thirty seconds to get me stumped during that conversation. “Why? What possible difference could it make to you if I do or do not want to marry Rowen?”
Jolene’s face fell. “Are you serious? You really don’t know?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and exhaled. “No, I really don’t know. Why in the world would I?” Women are a complicated species. Dad had drilled that into me—and then I’d learned it on my own—but damn if that woman and that conversation didn’t bring that complicated attribute to new levels.
Jolene studied me for a few more seconds, searching me for something. Finally, she dropped her gaze, crossed her arms, and marched over to the driver’s side door. “Your dinner’s in the bed. You can get it yourself.”
And I’d pissed her off. I was really winning at life these days.
Only because it was my truck did I kick the tire when I came around the bed. I grabbed the couple of paper bags of food but would have to come back from the cooler since it didn’t look like Jolene was planning on leaving the cab. I’d definitely pissed her off . . . although I didn’t know what I’d said or done exactly to do so.
When I made it to the tree where Garth was camped out enjoying some shade, I dropped the bags on his lap. “Thanks for the help.”
Garth shoved the bags aside and waved his finger at me. “You’ve got all the help any man could possibly need stewing over there in your truck.”
I double checked to make sure Garth and I were seeing the same thing. Yep, Jolene was still pissed. “In case you’re losing your vision, that’s not a look of helpfulness on Jolene’s face. She is most definitely not in a helping mood right now.” I rubbed the back of my neck, wondering if I should go apologize. “I said something to upset her . . . but I don’t know what.”
“Shit, Jess. You weren’t over there for longer than two minutes. What were you chatting about that could have hurt poor Jolene’s feeling so?” Garth kicked out his legs, crossed his ankles, and laid down like he was ready for a nap.
“I don’t know. All we did was talk about dinner, Rowen, and if I wanted to marry her one day.”
“Marry who?”
I gave him a look. He knew who I was talking about and was just messing with me.
“Marry. Who?” Garth repeated.
“Marry you, shithead,” I said, kicking the heel of his boot. “Rowen. Marry Rowen.” I couldn’t believe I had to clarify that.
“Oh, well that’s why.”
“That’s why what?”
Garth rolled his eyes before closing them. “That’s why Miss Peace Corps Montana is pissed. You mentioned marriage and Rowen in the same sentence, and I’m guessing there was no addition of polygamy and Jolene.”
“No. No mention of Jolene or polygamy.”
“Hmm, you know, it’s too bad it’s not legal in this state because I might actually turn into the marrying type if I could have a dozen wives.”
“You can’t even take care of yourself. How do you think you’d be able to take care of twelve wives?”
Garth shrugged. “I don’t know. But I sure wouldn’t mind trying.”
“Nice digression, there, but could we get back on point, please? What would make Jolene so upset about me mentioning I want to marry Rowen one day?” I knew she wasn’t the biggest fan of Rowen, and Rowen of her. Some personalities just didn’t click. Rowen’s and Jolene’s definitely didn’t click.
“Questions like that one really make me question your intelligence, Walker.” Garth’s eyes opened just long enough to say the next part. “Jolene likes you. That’s why she’s got her panties in a bunch because you mentioned Rowen and the M word.”
“I know she likes me. I’m a likable guy.”
“Oh my god, shit-for-brains. Jolene doesn’t just like you because you’re a ‘likable guy’”—seeing Garth make air quotes almost made me laugh—“she likes you because she wants you to hump her this way, that way, and another way you didn’t even dream was possible. Oh, and after that, she wants you to put a ring on her finger and let her play house.”
