by A. J. Wynter
The memories came flashing back to Syd. The kisses with Derek, her excitement, and then her fear. But this morning, it was ultimately the disappointment of meeting someone only to realize they only wanted one thing from her.
“Derek, the dickhead,” Sydney confirmed, and then continued, “I should’ve listened to you. You knew, didn’t you.”
Lainey sighed. “I hoped that he wasn’t a player, but I had the feeling that he was. Are you… are you okay?”
Sydney sat up and leaned against her pillows in a crumpled heap, “I’m fine, but I should’ve listened to you. I’m just so mad at myself.”
“It happens,” Lainey said, handing Sydney the glass of water again. “We’ve all been there.”
Sydney took a little sip of water, and she could start to feel the life coming back into her body. “Well, I hadn’t until last night. Are they all like that?”
“I’m sure there are some good ones out there, but yeah, they’re few and far between. And I find the Branfern guys to be the worst. Spoiled rich little boys, they think they can treat women like shit and still have them fall at their feet because of their family’s name.”
“Looks like I will be single forever,” Sydney murmured.
“Don’t be dramatic,” Lainey said, smiling. “You’re the best catch around. First of all, YOU need to decide that you’ve got time for a relationship. When you do, the perfect man will be there for you.”
“Thanks, Lainey.” Sydney leaned to hug her friend. “I’m going to miss you this summer.”
All throughout college, the two of them had taken turns visiting each other’s family beach houses along the shore. They had never gone more than a couple of weeks without seeing each other.
“I’m going to miss yo—” Lainey was interrupted by the crowing of Sydney’s ringtone, a rooster. “Still haven’t changed that ringtone?”
“Never!” Sydney smiled and patted the blankets like a cat, searching for her phone.
“Got it,” Lainey said, reaching under Sydney’s bed. She glanced at the phone and handed it to Sydney, “512? Isn’t that a Texas area code?”
Sydney blanched. “Oh, shit.”
“What did you do?” Lainey asked, handing the phone to Sydney.
Sydney knew that she shouldn’t answer, that she should let it go to voicemail and delete the message without listening to it, but she let her thumb hover over the green button, and instead of letting it ring through to voicemail, she pressed it, “H-h-hello.”
“This Sydney Strachan?” The twangy voice pronounced all the letters in Strachan, so that it sounded more like straw-chen.”
“Yes,” Sydney replied. “This is Sydney Stra…” she trailed off, not wanting to insult the caller by correcting them.
“This is Mary Snodlen from Blackgum Acres. We got your message on the computer and Floyd wants you to come in and have a sit-down.”
The voice on the other end of the phone was the gravelly gruff voice of a life-long smoker and Sydney was slightly surprised to hear that it belonged to a woman.
“Oh. Um. Right.” Sydney’s head was spinning, trying to remember what she had written, and what the hell she had responded to.
“Geez. I don’t got time to sit and chat all day. Can you come today?”
The Texas ranch, the live-in horse training job. The pieces were slowly falling into place in Syd’s mind.
“I’m in Connecticut,” she said,
“Well ain’t that somethin’?” Mary replied.
Sydney wasn’t really sure what she meant. “Pardon?” she asked.
“Well, at least you got some manners. Listen, Miss. I don’t think that Floyd realized that you are a lady, but he likes your experience. Do you want to come and talk to him about these horses, or not?”
“I do,” Sydney said, shocking herself. “I can be there tomorrow. Does that work?”
“Yeah, that will have to do. You get yourself to Claystream and I’ll meet you there at 8 a.m.”
“Oh, o… ok, ma’am,” Sydney said as the curt woman hung up the phone. She sat there with the phone in her hand, feeling slightly stunned.
As if reading her mind, Lainey asked, “Sydney. What have you done?”
Sydney’s aching head was racing. She had so much to do. She had to go see her horses, pack for a trip to Texas, and get rid of her hangover. Not necessarily in that order.
“I’ve got a job interview,” she said with a sly smile on her face.
“Who with? Redneck Betty Crocker?” Syd smiled.
“You could hear her?”
“Of course, I could hear her. That woman must be deaf.”
“Here, let me show you,” Syd said, sidling up beside her friend so she could get a view of the job posting on her phone screen.
“Are you kidding me?” Lainey said after glancing at the job posting.
“What do you mean?” Syd asked.
Lainey stood up and started to pace the room. “Where do I even start, Syd? Have you lost your mind?”
“I think it would be a good experience,” Syd said.
Did something happen to you last night to turn you into someone I don’t even know? This won’t further your career, and it doesn’t even sound like fun.” Lainey let loose with several rapid-fire questions while gesturing wildly, “What happened to volunteering at the hospital? What do you know about western horses? Where the fuck is Claystream?”
Syd was shocked by her friend’s reaction. She thought that she would be excited to see her set out and do something different, get out of her little bubble here in Connecticut and spread her wings.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Lainey, sit down. Your pacing is going to make me throw up.”
Lainey sat down on the bed and pulled her feet up underneath her. “I just don’t want to see you ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for, that’s all. I mean, you’ve lived like a nun to get this far, and I just don’t understand how this particular experience makes any sense to someone as smart as you.”
Syd took another sip of water before starting, “You know, I think something did happen to me last night. I realized that I haven’t really lived. I don’t have any friends that didn’t go to private school. My vacations have all been to exotic and far away places and I’ve never really had a job where my last name isn’t a big deal. What if I become a doctor, marry a doctor, live on the shore, have kids, and hope that they follow in my footsteps?”
“I thought that’s been your dream,” Lainey said.
“I thought so too,” Syd said.
“And you’re sure you’re not still drunk and going to regret this decision?”
Syd laughed and then clapped her hand to her forehead, “I don’t think being drunk feels this bad, and I’m just going for an interview, I haven’t committed to anything, yet. And to answer your questions: One, I’ve had seven years of volunteer experience at the hospital. Two, I know horses – doesn’t matter what style they are. And three, who the hell knows where Claystream is?”
Lainey smiled and stood up. “Well, get dressed, City Slicker. You’ve got a lot to do today, including packing.” Lainey went to Syd’s bathroom and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen and tossed it at her. “You’re gonna need these if you want to get anything done today.”
With that, Syd threw on her barn clothes and tossed an empty suitcase on her bed, then she sat down and googled Claystream.
Chapter 8 – Russell
There had to be some kind of a mistake. Floyd was old school, so there was no way that he could be considering hiring a woman to break his horses. Russell had known some great horsewomen on the rodeo circuit, and he knew how a feminine touch can be helpful when it comes to dealing with horses, but Floyd would agree to disagree with him on that point. Mary put up with Floyd’s chauvinism, likely because she wasn’t too far behind his era, when women worked from dusk until dawn, just as hard as the men, but in the kitchen and around the ranch. Could Mary have asked for a kitchen helper? That could be the only explanation for the
beautiful blonde in the truck.
Russell shrugged and continued walking past the old house. It would be a nice change, waking up to breakfast cooked by that tall blonde. A hell of a lot nicer than grouchy old Mary, even though her sausage scramble was the best that he had ever tasted.
He hooked the trailer up to one of the old rusty pickup trucks and started to pile fence posts and rolls of wire inside. It was still early, but the cicadas were buzzing in the heat. Russell pulled his red bandana from his back pocket, wiped his brow, and tied it around his neck to protect it from the sun. He knew that his skin was going to look like a baseball glove by the time he was thirty and that deep-set wrinkles like Floyd’s would come a few short years later.
His cell phone buzzed in his front pocket and he pulled it out. Mary was calling.
“Top of the morning to you, Mary,” he smiled, knowing that his cheerful greeting would piss her off.
“Yeah, yeah, sunshine and butterflies to you too,” her gravelly voice responded and then she continued, “Are you going to come up and help Floyd with these interviews?”
Russell sighed. He had so much work to get done and taking a couple of hours off this morning was really going to set him back.
Mary heard him sigh, “Look, Russell, Floyd trusts you and your opinion. And if you ask me, the old man has been making some weird decisions around here lately. I think you should get that scrawny ass of yours up here.”
Russ knew that she was right, the mustangs a prime example of Floyd’s increasingly bizarre behavior. “Alright, ma’am. Tell Floyd that I’ll be up there in a jiffy.”
“Good,” Mary said and then hung up the phone, she didn’t have the time or desire for pleasantries.
Russell lifted his arm and gave his pit a quick sniff. If he ran into the new kitchen girl, he didn’t want to be smelling too ripe. Not bad, he thought to himself as he walked back to the main house. The screen door creaked as he opened it, and he realized that his heart was beating a little faster with the anticipation of running into that blonde. He took a quick glance to the right to peer into the kitchen and didn’t see anyone, so he glanced to the left into the parlor and didn’t see anyone there either. Floyd’s office was on the second floor of the house, overlooking the rear yard. Russell made his way up the old worn stairs, the sound of his boots clomping almost drowning out their creaking.
He rounded the corner and saw a pudgy young man seated in a chair outside the office. His face was pockmarked and he was nervously picking at his nails, his cowboy hat resting in the seat beside him. He looked up as Russell approached, “Are you here for an interview too?” he asked.
“No, I’ve already got a job,” Russell smiled, he could see that the young man was nervous, and by his demeanor, Russell knew that this kid wasn’t going to be able to help him with the horses. As a matter of fact, he looked like he’d be of little use in the field either. “I’m Russ,” he said and stuck out his hand. The young man cleared his throat and thrust his clammy hand into Russ’s. “I’m Ronald,” he replied.
“Pleased to meet you, Ronald. Hot one already ain’t it?” Russ said, knocking on the door.
Ronald nodded. “Sure is,” he said, smiling at Russell.
Russell prided himself on being able to put people at ease and make them feel comfortable. He had been told that’s why he had such a way with the horses.
“Come in,” Floyd shouted through the door, much louder than required. Russell smiled back at Ronald, “Good luck to you,” and then turned the old brass doorknob and entered the room.
He looked up to see Floyd sitting behind his desk and his heart almost dropped to the floor when he saw who was seated in the opposite chair. It was her. The blonde. He raised his eyebrows at Floyd and the old man shrugged in return.
“This is Russell,” Floyd said to the girl and she turned to face Russ. He had only seen her from a distance, and until this moment, had only seen the back of her head. Now, he could see that her white blonde hair cascaded in waves down her back. From afar, he had created an image of her face in his mind. And he’d sold her short. The woman was stunning, and he felt like her crystalline green eyes were piercing right through him. She stood and smiled at him, her teeth the whitest he had seen in years. “I’m Sydney,” she said extending her hand.
Russell glanced again to Floyd, a bemused look on his face. Russ took a step toward Sydney and held out his hand just as the toe of his cowboy boot caught the edge of the ancient rag rug on the floor. He careened directly into Sydney, knocking her back down into the chair. He caught himself on the arms of the old chair and found himself eye to eye with her. She was so close that he could smell the light floral scent radiating from her hair. Her freckles looked like they had been inspired by a child’s doll, a perfect smattering over her nose and cheeks.
Shit.
He cleared his throat and stood up, “My apologies, Miss.” He backed up and took a deep breath. “Might as well try this again. I’m Russell,” he said, extending his hand.
Sydney smiled, and her light laughter filled the room with warmth. She stood up again and took his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, Russell.”
Russell pulled out a rickety chair to sit beside Sydney. He held his hat in his hands and when he looked up at Floyd, the old man shook his head and rolled his eyes at him.
“Sydney here was just telling me about her experience with horses. Seems as if she could ride ‘em almost before she could walk.”
Russ couldn’t tell if Floyd was entertained, interested, or just amused by the young girl.
“That’s a bit of stretch,” Sydney laughed. “But I did grow up around horses. I basically live at the barn when I’m not at school.”
“School, huh,” Russell said, “What are you taking there?” he asked.
“Biochemistry,” Sydney replied, “I just finished my fourth year at Glenfern College.” She sat up straighter and Russell could see that she was proud of her accomplishment.
He had never heard of Glenfern College and didn’t really know what biochemistry was. He hated it, but the attraction he was feeling toward Sydney was being overshadowed by jealousy. He turned to Floyd, expecting him to tell her ‘thanks but no thanks,’ but Floyd was just beaming at Sydney.
“And she’s won the North American Youth Dressage Championship,” Floyd said, smiling.
“Dressage?” Russell scoffed. “What’s that got to do with breaking mustangs?” The initial attraction he had felt for her fizzled away when he realized that she was a spoiled horse brat. He knew the type. She was probably given a pony with a huge pink ribbon for her fifth birthday. She likely had a closet full of fancy horse clothes and showed up to do the easy barn work… That is, if she did any at all, and probably only knew one way to ride a horse, The wrong way.
Sydney looked to Russell. “A horse is a horse.”
Russell could feel the redness flushing his neck and face. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he looked to Floyd. Floyd was sitting back in his chair, amused, and awaiting Russell’s response.
“Oh, no it ain’t. And you’ve come a long way, with your fancy accent and clean boots, just to waste our time.”
Sydney looked taken aback, “I-I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I’ve come to believe that when you have the right energy with horses, it doesn’t matter what kind they are. A horse is a horse, that’s what I meant by that.”
Russell knew that she had a point, but there was no way in hell he was working with this fancy pants girl. “Listen, Missy, those mustangs out there, they ain’t your Lusitanos. They’ve got a mind of their own, and the last thing that they want to do is listen to some woman coo sweet nothings at them. If you think that you can jump out of a show ring and onto one of those horses, you’re just plain nuts.”
Sydney seemed speechless, then she spoke, her voice clear and confident, “I don’t ride Lusitanos. They’re not responsive enough and I don’t like their gait. I’ve competed on ten different breeds of horse.
I’ve found that the Oldenburgs, once I’ve developed a relationship and rapport with them, have been the most responsive and loyal of them all despite their stubbornness. It’s true, I’ve never competed in western style, but I have ridden dozens of horses. I know how to communicate with them, to get them to do what I want them to do. I know that with some time, I could have every single one of those horses in a saddle.”
“Missy, you couldn’t get a saddle on one of those horses in a year,” Russell muttered.
“Now, Russ,” Floyd chided.
Sydney stood up, “Mr. Smithton, it was a pleasure to meet you, but it doesn’t look like this is the job for me.”
“Now, wait just one darned minute,” Floyd leaned on his desk and stood up, “Russ, can you go wait outside with Ronald?”
“I’d be glad to,” Russell said and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Chapter 9 – Sydney
Sydney knew that if the choice was between her and Ronald, anyone in their right mind would choose her. The kid was a sweaty, nervous mess. There’s no way that he could tame a fair pony, let alone break a wild horse.
Her confidence was shaken when she sat down in Floyd’s office. The old man walked in and looked around the room without acknowledging her, as though she was invisible. She wasn’t sure if he was angry or confused.
“Can I help you Miss?” he asked.
“I-I-I’m Sydney,” she said, holding out her hand.
“Sydney?” said the old man. “You’re Sydney?”
“That I am,” Sydney said, still holding out her hand. The old man reluctantly stood up and shook her hand.
“My apologies, Miss, but I thought that you were going to be a man. What kind of a name is Sydney for a lady?”
“I was born in Australia, so my parents named me after that Sydney,” Syd replied, deciding not to tell the old rancher that she knew plenty of women named Sydney.
“Well, Australia, ain’t that something,” Floyd said. Sydney couldn’t tell if he was wistful, or if it was just his cataracts. “So, Miss Sydney. I’m going to be straight and upfront with you. If we had known you were a girl, we wouldn’t have asked you to come, but while you’re here, you might as well tell me about your experience. We need another ranch hand here, and that sweaty fat kid sitting out there ain’t gonna cut the mustard.”
