by Claire Adams
The idea of chatting had turned my blood cold. In my old life, I would have loved to sit down and talk with a nice couple like the Millers. But I could barely remember the name of my cover story, and certainly couldn’t remember any of the facts about this pretend person I was supposed to be.
I was going to need to distract her and quickly. One of my favorite conversation techniques was distraction. When a woman I had been dating for a few weeks started asking about more long term decisions I always distracted her with gifts and trips. It worked surprisingly well, at least for a little while, but eventually they came back to nagging about a commitment.
With a good woman, I had no problem being loyal. I wasn’t a cheater. I liked one woman and would date her exclusively. My issue always came when they started talking about moving in together, getting married, and having babies. I wasn’t ready for all of that. Not with them at least. I knew that someday I would be ready and hoped that I would magically know that it was the right woman. But up until that point in my life, I certainly had not been ready.
“Is this your daughter?” I asked as I looked at the picture on the wall.
“Yes, that’s Sarah.”
“Well I can see where she gets her good looks.”
“Careful, boy,” Sid jokingly replied.
“Why is she coming back home? She looks pretty successful in this photo.”
I watched as Mr. and Mrs. Miller looked at each other and it was clear neither of them wanted to discuss the situation. But at least we weren’t talking about me, for that, I was very grateful.
Their daughter was pretty, but didn’t look happy at all in the photo of her standing in an extremely large office. The background looked like New York City; I had been there many times throughout my own career. But I had enjoyed the climb to becoming a successful CEO; their daughter did not look happy to be on her climb to the top at all. Her face was grimaced and she leaned stiffly against a large desk. Sarah had brown hair that was swept up in a bun and a stiff body position, I could tell even from the photos she was stressed out.
“Politics,” Sid replied. “Everything is always about politics.” We all laughed.
I knew he was joking, but he really wasn’t all that far from the truth. Politics did seem to run the world. It had taken me several years of business to figure that out, but when I finally got my brain around it, I did much better in my business.
Whatever the reasoning for their daughter coming home, it had to be a pretty big deal. All of the people I knew who had large offices in New York had large salaries that went with them. If their daughter was coming home, I had to guess that she was either fired, pregnant, or sick. People just didn’t leave their large salaries to move back home with their parents.
“I’m pretty exhausted; would you all mind if I made my way back to my bunk and got some sleep before work tomorrow?”
“Oh, sure, dear; I’m sure you’re tired. We are happy to have you here and I’ll see you in the morning. Breakfast is served at half after four.”
My face had to have gone as pale as a ghost at those words because both Sid and Mrs. Miller cracked a smile at my reaction. This little trip to a Montana ranch was clearly going to be much more difficult than I had expected. But then again, how was I really to know what to expect?
It had only been 72 hours since I’d agreed to testify against Frank Gordano. I was new to the whole witness protection world and had mistakenly thought I would get to hide out in a luxury cabin at the ends of the earth until the trial came. Actually, I guessed that I wouldn’t be totally comfortable wherever they sent me, but I just hadn’t thought that lack of comfort was going to include a lack of sleep.
Agent Walker, who had been my escort to the house had been surprisingly vague about what it was that I was going to be doing while on the ranch. He had given me my cowboy clothes and laughed at my inability to put them on right. He had put me at ease about how long I’d be at the ranch and even made me think that a good day’s work would be good for me because otherwise I’d be bored.
I didn’t mind work. I honestly did think that working during the day would keep my mind off of everything that was going on. And if I had to start my day at that ungodly hour of the morning, at least I would be done early and would get the afternoons to myself. I hoped to get some books to read and maybe even work on writing my own book. I had wanted to do that for years. Perhaps this was going to be the perfect opportunity to really start writing my dream book.
“Is there an alarm in the bunkhouse?” I asked.
If they wanted me to get up that early, I was certainly going to need some strong alarm clock to pry open my eyelids. I was normally a fairly early riser, but to me, that was getting up at six and heading to the gym. I liked to get a good run in and use the weights before heading to the office. This was going to be a bit of an adjustment for my internal clock to deal with.
“You won’t need one. I’ll see you in the morning,” Mrs. Miller said as she smiled and hugged me one last time and walked me out.
Sid also had a huge smile on his face and I couldn’t help but wonder why it was so funny that I was afraid of getting up that early. Had they worked on a ranch so long that they actually thought that was a normal hour for human beings to be awake?
They clearly didn’t understand just how much I valued my sleep. I was pretty damn sure there was no way I could climb out of my bed in the morning without a swift kick in the ass. But I had to trust her; we were an hour away from the nearest town and I didn’t have the means to get anywhere. Part of the simplicity of being placed at the ranch was that it was so far away from everyone that it made me much harder to find. I needed to avoid going into towns or being seen by anyone else outside of the ranch.
“Thank you again,” I said as I turned back toward the Millers.
Their generosity and home made me feel safe for the first time in the last week. I was happy to be out of Los Angeles and even happier as I climbed up into the empty bunk bed that had my things on it. Sleep had eluded me since I had first been pulled in for questioning regarding the murder of one of my employees and their involvement with Frank Gordano. My stomach had turned into a knot at the thought of my friend and employee losing his life and fear had overcome me.
Thomas Randal had been a pilot for me since my first year in business. He had grown with me and had been the one to introduce Frank Gordano and me, getting us into business together. Thomas and I knew that Frank was bad news; we had talked about it at length on several occasions. Neither of us thought he would go so far as to murder one of us though; that was the shocking part to me. We had been good business partners for several years and I couldn’t think of a reason that Frank would have ordered Thomas’ murder.
Sure, I knew Frank Gordano was a dangerous man; I knew he was capable of murder. But we were good business associates. Everything he requested, we did for him. Our planes flew him internationally several times a month and we returned home with the cargo of drugs and guns that he had purchased. We took our payment and never spoke a word of our interactions to anyone. There were only two people in the company that knew what Gordano was transporting: Thomas and I.
The other people who had any interaction with Frank had also been well paid. We had been careful not to bring anyone fully into the business end of things, so there was no reason for any of my other employees to be in danger. It still baffled me as to what on earth had happened on the plane that day that ended up getting my friend Thomas murdered. Thomas was a smart man, and much more street-smart than I was.
Thomas had told me it was time to get out of business with Frank Gordano and I had agreed with him. The problem we were having was that Frank made a lot of money because of his trips and our service was essential to him. When I even hinted at not working with him anymore, Frank had threatened to blow up one of my planes. He tried to play it off as a joke, but I knew better.
My suspicion was that Thomas had tried to break the relationship off with Frank that day on
the plane. It was the only thing that made sense to me because I couldn’t think of another reason to murder Thomas. Even from the criminal perspective of Frank Gordano, murdering Thomas didn’t really make sense. He murdered the man who had been flying him where he wanted to go. He murdered the one person who was giving him exactly what he was asking for. It scared me. The nonsensical nature of the murder scared the hell out of me.
I had barely laid my head on the small pillow when I felt my body drifting away to sleep. It wasn’t even dark out yet and none of the other men were in the bunkhouse; I assumed they were probably still out working or maybe at dinner or relaxing. But it didn’t really matter to me. I was safe, and for the first time in several days, so I was going to sleep. I took in a deep breath at the realization I was about to have to work harder physically than I had ever worked in my life. But I was confident I could keep up.
After working out with a trainer twice a week, my body was chiseled and strong. I had never wanted to be one of those CEOs who got a big belly and looked like they were two steps away from a heart attack. No, I worked hard to keep myself in shape and I had a feeling that was going to come in handy as I worked on the ranch.
Chapter Two
Sarah
“I’ll do breakfast, go back to bed,” I told my mother. “You never get to sleep in.”
“No, I’ve got it. Don’t worry, Sarah; I’m used to this.”
“I won’t have it. You get back to bed, or read a book, or whatever else you’d like to do. But you’re not making breakfast today.”
It was true, as long as I had known my mother, she was always up before me and everyone else on the ranch. She made it her job to feed the lot of us and always wanted us to have our meals before we got to work. My father tried to tell her that she could make breakfast later in the morning and everyone could come back in to eat, but she refused and told him it was not a very efficient use of time.
One of the things I had learned from my mother over the years was a detailed use of my time. I could fit more into one day than most people did in three. It was probably one of the biggest reasons I had been so successful at such a young age. But there was more to balancing life than fitting as much in as possible. Unfortunately, it had taken me losing my job before I really figured that out.
“There’s a new guy, his name is Garrett. He’s missed breakfast all week; save a little food for him. He’s struggling with the schedule.”
“You’re too nice to these guys, mom. If you didn’t save him food, he’d learn his lesson faster and get his ass out of bed on time.”
“Oh, Sarah, this isn’t your big, New York company. Here, I like to treat everyone kindly. Can you please save him some food? I know you’re a fan of tough love, but I never used it with you and you turned out just fine. Just give it a try and be nice to him for me. I’d really appreciate it.”
“Sure, mother, but I’m not saving it for long. As soon as breakfast is cleaned up, his food is going to the dogs.”
My mother just shook her head at me as she made her way back up the stairs to go to bed. She was tired; I could see it in her body as she climbed the stairs. I was happy to be home to help her and father out, even if the circumstances that had brought me home weren’t all that great. They were managing just fine in getting the day to day tasks done around the ranch, but there was so much more to actually bringing in money.
My parents had worked hard all their lives for the ranch. I had only decided to enter the corporate world so I could make enough money to help them out at the ranch. I knew they didn’t have retirement accounts or any means to ever actually stop working. I had hoped I would be able to buy the ranch from them and take it over someday, but my dreams of financial freedom hadn’t turned out quiet how I had hoped.
Living in New York was extremely expensive and maintaining the lifestyle I had to have as the Vice President of Marketing for Anderson Telecommunications had used up most of the money I earned each year. Sure, I had some in a savings account and I had the severance package that they had given me when they decided my position was no longer needed. But I had totally failed in my goal of earning enough money to actually be of help to my family.
It was difficult to come home and feel like I had failed my family. When I looked back, I wasn’t even sure I knew where all my money had gone. Making $250,000 a year certainly seemed like a lot of money, but apparently, it hadn’t been enough.
Working in marketing wasn’t my idea; I had an MBA from Harvard and had hoped to move up in the organization. But marketing and sales were what they needed most, so I learned the position and did the best I could to bring in new clients. It worked, and I had more than $3 million in new revenue my first year. My new sales couldn’t make up for poor management though, and the organization was soon seeing red and looking for the easiest executive to cut.
I was that person. To the other executives, they figured lower level sales people could make up for my job and they didn’t need a head of the department. My gut told me they were wrong and I’d soon be hearing about Anderson Telecommunications going broke.
“Good morning,” I said, as the first few men trickled into the gathering area. “Pancakes and bacon today; I hope you enjoy.”
“Thank you,” they said as they quickly grabbed up platefuls and sat down at one of bench tables.
Despite what my mother thought, I was actually very kind to the men who worked on our ranch. They worked long and hard hours for my parents and I wasn’t about to do anything to jeopardize that for them. My parents needed all the help they could get. Sure, it was necessary to cut down on the number of ranch hands we had over the years, but we still had to keep enough to keep the ranch running properly.
We typically had anywhere between ten and fifty men working for us. It depended on the time of year and what was going on. In the summer time, we were the busiest, so we typically had the most employees. But on this morning, I had only counted twenty-two men. I instantly knew my father’s financial issues had led to him not hiring as many ranch hands as he normally did. It was a tough decision though. With less workers, it meant the men we had were working much harder and that meant we would probably lose those men to new jobs sooner than normal.
Working as a ranch hand really wasn’t a great job; I knew it, my father knew it, and I suspected even the ranch hands knew it. But many of the men we hired were drifters. They were in the process of moving from one place to the next and needed a few weeks of pay to make that happen. Some would stay on for the whole summer, and even fewer would stay on throughout the winter. We paid well; it wasn’t as if we were taking advantage of them. But the work was hard. It was labor intensive and exhausting and I could see it on the men’s faces that morning.
For me, there was a sense of calm that came when I was on the ranch though. Working outside and with the animals was an entirely different world than the corporate one I came from. Even the long days seemed to fly by because I was out and moving around. The sun was on my face, the wind in my hair; nothing seemed all that bad when you had nature on your side.
While I worked in the corporate world, I had days when I felt energized and excited, but I had many more days where I felt totally drained and unable to move forward. The long hours in an office worked my body both physically and mentally. Working that much made it difficult to find friends outside of the office and I certainly didn’t have time to pursue hobbies or relationships much.
The corporate job was what I thought I wanted and needed though. How was I ever going to help my parents financially if I didn’t make a ton of money? Soon the vicious cycle of working long hours and spending my money to keep up appearances started though. Once I started to become concerned about the luxury handbag I was carrying to my meetings, that was when I stopped working my corporate job to help my family. By the time I was carrying an Hermes Birkin into my meetings on Mondays, I had long fallen down the hole that I wanted to avoid so desperately.
After cleaning up breakfast, I ma
de my way out to the horse barn to take care of them. The horses were my pride and joy; they calmed me, and just being near them always made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be in this life. When I was younger, I had begged my father to let me take riding lessons and he refused to allow it. He promised to teach me everything he knew about horses and then I could be in charge of them. But I wasn’t willing to wait and I started saddling the horses up myself and sneaking them out for ride.
Wild horses were my favorite though. They were like children exploring their boundaries and sometimes they would wander near our ranch. In the beginning, my father ignored the wild horses who would come to our property, but soon we had one that just wouldn’t leave. The horse wanted to be part of our group so we kept her and I worked with my father to break her in.
The idea of breaking in a horse seemed like torture to me when my father first explained things. We had to walk her on a lead rope at all times. I couldn’t spend a lot of time petting her or grooming her until she learned how to behave. It didn’t seem fair. But soon my father explained that the reason she had been sticking around the ranch was likely because the other horses had ostracized her. They didn’t want her with them, so it was our job to give her a home; that made so much sense to me.
“This is Buckjoy,” my father said as he held the rope of a wild horse.
“Dad, you can’t keep bringing home wild things and thinking they are going to like you saddling them up.”
“I think Bambi would disagree with you.”
“She was special. We just have a bond, but I was here to train her and show her she was safe. I don’t think it’s going to work like that for all wild horses.”
After my father struggled with training Bambi, I stepped up and offered to give it a try. I was only a teenager, but I felt like the horse liked me and would listen to me. Sure enough, Bambi ended up liking me very much and wanting to be good so she would get praise. That was what I found as a key to bonding with the horses: I had to find a reason for the animal to like me.
