by Hamel, B. B.
3
Holly
Somehow, after riding with Connor on his ranch, tiny little Bozeman, Montana, feels like an enormous city center.
I guess that’s because it is, at least in comparison. It felt like the smallest town I’d ever been in the first day I set foot in downtown, but now it’s starting to feel…
Well, it’s starting to feel like a place I could actually live.
I’m sitting out on my porch a few days after my ride with Connor, laptop on my lap, watching the rain slowly crawl across the plains toward us. I can hear the distant rumble of thunder and the spike of lightning crease the sky. My landlady, Jane, is down in her garden again, totally oblivious to the coming storm.
She’s an older woman, in her mid-forties, and teaches art at the local community college. Her house is split into two different apartments and I rent the top one, just a little one-bedroom, one-bathroom efficiency that feels like a castle compared to what I could afford in NYC.
“Looks like rain,” I call out to Jane.
She pokes her head up from her flowers. “Oh, does it?”
“You don’t hear that thunder?”
She shrugs. “You get lots of weather out in these parts. I don’t pay it much mind.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’m not used to it yet.”
“You will be, sweetie. Don’t worry.” She takes her gloves off and runs her hand through her graying hair, heedless of the dirt. “I hear you were off at the Wood Ranch yesterday.”
I frown a little. “How’d you hear that?”
“It’s Bozeman, sweetie, not New York. Word travels fast.”
“It’s not that small of a town.”
She grins at me. “I know your boss, Roy.”
I groan. “Of course.”
“He’s a good one, once you get to know him.”
I sigh and shake my head. “He’s growing on me.”
Jane comes up and sits down in the chair next to me. “What’d you think about that Connor Wood?”
I glance at her sideways. “Nice man.”
She grins at me, a little mischief in her eyes. “Is that what you city girls are calling it? Out here we just say ‘hot as all sin.’”
I stifle a little giggle. “Okay, he’s handsome, I’ll give you that.”
“Handsome? That man is built. Notorious bachelor, though.”
“He dates a lot?”
“Oh, no, the opposite. Women have been throwing themselves at him ever since he came out here years ago but he never seems interested in any of them. Folks say he has a strange and complicated past, but who knows.”
“What kind of past?”
Jane hesitates for a long while. We sit in silence and let it grow between us. I start to think she didn’t hear me or she’s not interested in answering when she finally speaks, just as thunder rumbles in the distance.
“He’s from here, back when he was younger. I remember him then. Handsome boy, popular. He was the quarterback of one of the biggest high schools around here. Won every game he played in and got recruited to go play at any school he wanted.”
“Really?” I ask, surprised. “He doesn’t seem like a football player.” But as the words leave my mouth, I think back to his muscular body, big and broad, and the tattoos all over his arms.
Those tattoos don’t look like the kind of thing a rancher would have.
“He was, back then. Went to Michigan, if I remember right. Broke all sorts of records. He was a hometown hero for a while.”
“What happened?” I ask, hearing the note of sadness in her voice.
“Went to the NFL, played a single year, and retired midway through his second. Came back home, used all his playing money to buy that ranch, and never looked back.”
I blink, surprised as hell. “Really?” I ask, breathless. “He was a pro football player?”
“Sure, for a while. Nobody really knows what happened. His first year, he was the starter for the Broncos, even made the playoffs. People were saying he was going to be the next Peyton Manning or something like that. But then…” She shrugs and looks mystified. “He quit, came home, and now he’s a rancher.”
“Football, huh,” I say softly. Thunder rumbles again in the distance. “Really, I never would’ve guessed.”
“That’s a good thing, honey. He’d hate it if people could tell. I think that man works hard to keep his past at bay, but around here, everyone knows who he is.”
“Is that why he stays out on that ranch?”
“More or less. I mean, I don’t really know the man so I can’t say, but that’s what folks figure.”
“Huh.” I frown a little bit and watch the storm. More lightning flashes and thunder rumbles but the rain doesn’t reach us, just keeps on rolling down the plains in the distance. “He didn’t mention any of this.”
“Now why would a man that’s running from his past want to talk about it, huh?”
I grin at her. “Okay, fair enough.”
“You can’t blame the man anyway. He’s done pretty well without football.” She sighs and gets up, stretching a little bit. “I think I’ll get some more work in before the rain hits.”
“Good luck.”
She heads back down the steps and pulls her gloves back on before getting back to it, humming softly to herself.
As soon as she’s gone, I start to Google and instantly start piecing together that man.
Her story was pretty much dead-on. He was a star player for that one season, set a bunch of rookie season records, and was slated to be the next big quarterback. But then something happened. A couple articles mention a falling out with the general staff, and another mentions an injury, but it doesn’t look like anyone has any idea why he quit.
Articles from the time as are mystified as Jane seems to be. The more I read about him, the more I don’t understand it at all, and the more I feel like he makes total sense. It’s a strange little mystery, a conundrum.
Why would a man walk away from a lucrative career to become a rancher? As good as he’s doing now, he can’t be making even a fifth of what he was making playing football. He was a star, everyone wanted a piece of him. He was practically famous, at least for a little bit. I don’t remember him but I bet my father would.
Then he walked away without a word. He took his advance money and bought a ranch. There are a few articles over the years about him, wondering what the hell happened to him, why he became this hotshot Montana rancher, but nobody has any clue what happened.
I shut my laptop lid just as the rain starts. Jane gives me a grin as she heads inside, hair damp and gloves soaked. I watch the rain for a few minutes with a frown on my lips.
I knew he was a mystery. I wondered how the hell he bought such a big ranch and now I know how he afforded it. But knowing only makes me wonder more about him. It only deepens the mystery.
And makes me want to get to the bottom of him even more.
I stand up, about to head inside, when my phone starts to ring. The screen says Roy which means I have to answer it, even if I’d rather sit upstairs in my little apartment and watch the rain fall on the porch roof. “Hi, Roy,” I say.
“Hey, kid,” he answers. I wince a little bit. He’s in his sixties, and I guess he could be my father, but I still hate when he calls me that. “Got some news.”
“What’s up?”
“Connor Wood called me a few minutes ago.”
I bite my lip. Of course he did. It’s like the world’s pushing me toward him and I don’t know why.
“Is it Dodger?”
Roy grunts. “Good guess. Apparently the horse isn’t doing great.”
“Shit. I just saw him last week and he seemed fine, aside from the arthritis.”
“He wants you down there as fast as you can.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Guess so. Think you can make it in this storm?”
“It’s not so bad, just a little rain.”
“All right then. Just b
e careful. Road might be flooded out.”
“Does that happen out here?” I laugh then and cut him off before he can answer. “Don’t bother, of course it does. This is bumbleshit Montana.”
Roy laughs. “Watch it, city girl. We may be in the middle of nowhere, but we’re proud of it.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’ll head out.”
“Call me when you get there and let me know you’re okay, will you?”
“I will.”
“See you later.”
He hangs up and I slip my phone back in my pocket, my heart beating fast. I knew I’d be seeing Connor again pretty soon but I didn’t think it was going to be today. I hurry upstairs, gather my things, check myself in the mirror, and then rush out to my old pickup truck. I start the engine and pull out, taking the long lonely highway out to the Wood Ranch, my mind full of thunder, lightning, sick horses, and mysterious former football stars.
* * *
It takes me longer than normal to get to the ranch. Sure enough, parts of the road were flooded, though not too bad yet. The rain’s still coming down though, driving hard by the time I park outside the main house.
Connor meets me wearing a rain jacket and high black boots. “I didn’t expect you to come out in this,” he calls over the wind.
“I didn’t want to wait. It sounded urgent.”
I can tell from the look on his face that it is. “Come on.”
He leads me out to the barn and to Dodger’s stall. Faye and Bryant are both there, along with a young, thin girl with dark eyes and dark hair. They’re tending to the horse but his breathing is labored and there’s a sheen of sweat on him.
“Okay, everyone,” I say loudly over the storm. “Clear out. Let me work.”
The three ranch hands stare at me. I can tell they don’t like being talked to that way. These people know horses, maybe better than I do, but that’s the problem. If I let them stick around, they’re going to second-guess everything I do and look over my shoulder constantly. If I’m going to work, I need them gone.
“You heard her,” Connor barks. “Let her work.”
Reluctantly, Faye and Bryant amble past. Faye gives me a tight smile and Bryant tips his cap. The young girl lingers for a second, shooting me dirty looks.
“What the hell is she going to do?” the girl asks.
“Jessie,” Connor warns. “She’s a doctor. She can help.”
“Doctor?” The girl snorts. “She’s barely older than I am.”
I frown and step forward. “I worked in one of the busiest ERs in the entire city of New York. I treated stabbings, gunshot wounds, beat-up wives, beat-up husband, beat-up kids. I saw some shit that would make you puke.” I pause for a second as the girl’s eyes go wide. “I can handle the horse. Please, let me work.”
Her gaze narrows and she looks at Connor. “She’d better not let him die.”
“She won’t,” Connor says softly.
Jessie pushes past me and runs after the other two, heading out into the storm.
I sigh and step into the stall. Connor leans against the side and watches me. “Was that true?” he asks.
“Mostly,” I say. “I did treat all that stuff, but mostly I treated kids with colds.”
He snorts a little, grinning. “Jessie’s gonna tell everyone what you said, you know.”
“That’s fine, let her. I just need some space.”
“Okay then.” His eyes move to Dodger and there’s real concern, even a touch of fear, in his expression. “Help my horse, please.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
He nods again and turns away, leaving me alone with the horse.
I take a deep breath, open my bag, and get to work.
* * *
“He’s stable for now,” I say to Connor a few hours later. We’re sitting in the main house at a large wooden table off a surprisingly modern and spacious kitchen. The table looks like it was made by hand and could easily seat twenty or more if the chairs were packed tighter.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“I’m not totally sure yet,” I admit. “I think it might be some kind of infection. I started antibiotics so we’ll see how it goes.”
“Infection,” he says with a frown. “Bryant didn’t think it was an infection.”
I give him a flat stare. “If you want Bryant to treat your horse, I can always go back to town.”
He winces a little bit and holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Dodger.”
I soften a little bit. I can tell he’s not the kind of man to look worried like this normally, so he must really love this horse.
“I’ll talk to Bryant about it,” I say softly. “I shouldn’t be so hard about it. I guess I’m just new.”
“I get it. Staking your territory.” He smiles a little bit and leans back in his chair. “Besides, you’re not going anywhere.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
“You noticed how bad the rain’s been, right?”
I nod a little, glancing over toward the window that overlooks the porch. It’s still pouring out there, drenching the land. Wide puddles are growing in the middle of the horse paddock and most of the dirt road is turning to mud.
“I could probably get back,” I say uncertainly.
“No way,” he answers, shaking his head. “Even if you managed to get out to the main road, there are at least three places where it’ll be flooded all to hell. You’ll get stuck out there and I don’t feel like having to come drag your dripping wet ass back here.”
I glare at him. “You can’t just keep me prisoner.”
“You’re not a prisoner,” he says softly. “You can leave if you want. I’m just saying, you shouldn’t want to.”
I chew my lip for a second. I don’t know why the idea of staying here bothers me so much. I think because it actually sounds so appealing.
There’s something about this ranch. Everyone I’ve met so far seems to love it here, even that young girl Jessie who so clearly wishes I didn’t exist for some reason. It’s warm and comfortable and beautiful. It’s the sort of place I wish I could live my whole life, but it’s not my place.
It’s his place, and he’s still a mystery. I don’t know what I think about this ex-football star rancher. I don’t know if I should let myself get sucked into this place.
“You’re right,” I say finally. “It would be pretty stupid to try to drive home.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve got like ten extra rooms. I’ll have one of the girls get you set up.”
“The girls?” I arch an eyebrow at him.
“Don’t get jealous, they just work for me.”
I laugh a little. “I’m not jealous.”
“Sure you’re not.” He stretches a little. “I’ve got two cowgirls and Jessie that work the ranch, plus three more cowboys that help out. In the busier season, I bring on some more, but between those five, Faye, her husband, Carter, and Bryant, we’re usually in good shape.”
“That’s still a lot of people,” I point out.
“Faye and Carter live in a different house they built not far from here with Jessie, and this place is pretty huge. It doesn’t feel too crowded most days.”
“Okay, well, if it’s not an imposition, I guess I have no other choice.”
“Perfect.” He gets up and walks into the kitchen. I watch him take a bottle from a shelf and carry over two glasses. He pours the whiskey and offers me one, which I take gingerly. “To your first night at the Wood Ranch.”
“My first?”
He grins at me and there’s something in his eyes. “First of many.”
I blush a little and sip my whiskey. It’s good and the burn feels nice in my stomach. He sits back down next to me and pours another shot for me before asking about my life back in Bozeman.
We pass the time chatting and drinking. Before I even realize it, I’ve downed three glasses, which is two more than I ever should. I’m feeling hazy and happy and my cheeks are warm.
He’s smiling and moving closer to me and I swear he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen.
It’s not just the whiskey either. I think he’s gorgeous even when I’m dead sober, although the whiskey makes me think it a little louder. I’m leaning close to him, giggling at everything like a freaking moron, but I can’t help myself.
I feel good. He makes me feel good. Well, him and the whiskey, of course.
“You’ve got it made out here,” I say after a while of chatting about nothing. “Look at it. Beautiful.”
He grunts in reply. “Lots of work though. Sometimes doesn’t feel worth it.”
“No? But look at all this. It’s all yours.”
He shrugs a little, his eyes seeing well beyond what we’re looking at out the window. “I’ve got people that count on me,” he says softly. “That’s a hard thing, sometimes.”
“You must be used to that. I mean, you were a quarterback, right?”
As soon as the words leave my lips, I wish I could reel them back in. I watch as his whole body stiffens and his eyes narrow. He pulls away from me like I’m a magnet repelling him.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I didn’t mean to bring that up.”
“It’s fine,” he says, but the damage is done. “That was a long time ago.”
“I didn’t know, you know? When I first met you.”
“I could tell. Most folks from town recognize me right away.”
“I’m not much of a sports girl, if I’m honest.”
He nods, barely giving me a tight smile. “Not a bad thing.”
“Anyway, I was just saying, you must be used to the pressure.”
But he’s already standing up. “It’s getting late. I should find Violet and have her get you set up.”
“Oh,” I say. “Right. Sure.”
He gives me this long look that I can barely read. “I’ll see you later. Hang out here.”
He leaves without another word.
“Stupid idiot,” I whisper to myself. Why the hell did I have to go and bring that up? Clearly it’s a sore spot, any moron could see that. And yet I just blurt it out like it’s no big thing, and as soon as the words left my mouth, he pulled away.
