by A. J. Wynter
Sydney had never met anyone like Floyd before, and her first instinct was to be offended, but she realized that he was from another era, and the fact that he was willing to sit and talk with her meant that he might be a touch open-minded.
She launched into her rehearsed speech and told him all about the different horses she had ridden, her formal training, her theory and philosophy on breaking unwieldy horses. As she spoke, she could see the old man soften, and at one point she even saw a sparkle in his eye as he smiled at her.
And then he walked in.
She felt his presence even before she turned around, a certain strength and alpha maleness descended upon the room as soon as he set foot in the door. She turned to face him and saw the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life. His tall frame loomed in the doorway, and when he took his hat off, his soulful crystal blue eyes shone, lighting up his stubbled face.
Her heart started to pump a little harder and she rubbed her hands on her jeans in an attempt to blot some of the dampness from her increasingly sweaty palms. There was a real cowboy standing in front of her. An honest- to-goodness working cowboy, complete with Wrangler jeans, red kerchief, and a Stetson.
Growing up, she hadn’t had a lot of time to watch movies, but when she did, she wanted to watch movies with horses in them and had to settle for old westerns. This Clint Eastwood look-a-like in front of her fed into her earliest crush and she felt her chest constrict as he moved toward her.
Until he tripped and fell into her. Then he became real. The illusion of the swaggering, confident cowboy gone in the blink of an eye. Or, more correctly, a trip on the rug. He was still handsome, but she could see that he was just a young man, yet to realize the impact of his presence.
As they spoke, Sydney found herself smiling at Russell, eager to impress him with her experience. He was sure to be impressed with all of the different breeds she had worked with and by the sheer number of championships she had won.
But he wasn’t.
The more she tried to impress him, the more hostile he got until he turned into a complete asshole.
No matter how good looking he was, she knew that she couldn’t stay here at the ranch with such a complete and utter bastard.
She thanked Floyd for speaking with her and then got up to leave. Floyd asked Russell to leave and then sat her back down. He leaned in and spoke to her earnestly.
“That’s a good boy there. He just don’t know how to deal with someone book smart like you.”
Book smart? Sydney wasn’t familiar with the term. “As opposed to what kind of smart?” she asked.
“Street smart,” Floyd replied. “Something you don’t got none of.”
“I-I-I…” Sydney attempted to retaliate but realized that he was right.
“That’s why I want you to stay and work here. I don’t need another Russell around here. One’s too much as it is,” the old man chuckled, “I need someone who can bring something new to the table.”
Then he leaned forward on his desk and grinned at her, “And that’s you, Sydney.”
“I’m not sure Mr. Smithton. It’s going to be a tough enough job winning over those horses. I don’t know if I’ve got the time or energy to try and win over that—”
“Son of a bitch?” Floyd grinned.
Syd smiled back, “Exactly.” She leaned back in her chair. The ranch wasn’t what she had pictured at all. The main house was small and dark; the porch practically falling off. They were woefully understaffed, and so far, she had been met with hostility at every turn. It would be easy to hop back on a plane and jump back into her old life, with her well-trained horses, luxury barns, and weekends at her family’s beach house.
Could she spend the next five months on this dusty, ramshackle ranch, with a bunch of people and horses who didn’t really want her there? Was this a case of her getting what she had asked for? She wanted change; to get away. To be someone else for once, but really, could this be it?
“So, what do you say, Sydney? Do I need to call in that mess of a boy in the hallway for a talk?”
She knew that she had to give him an answer, and while part of her was screaming, NO, run for the hills, another part of her was telling her that she’d never ever have another opportunity like this in her life.
“Yes.”
“Yes, you’ll do it, or yes, I should get Ronald?”
“I’ll do it,” Syd said, exhilaration flooding through her as she heard the words come out of her mouth. But just as soon as it came it was replaced with fear. What the hell had she just done?
Chapter 10 – Russell
“You’ve really lost it, old man,” Russ muttered to himself as he walked away from the house, kicking rocks down the gravel lane, dust covering his worn boots. A woman? A woman from Connecticut to boot? Who did she think that she was, coming into Blackgum Acres with her fancy words and snooty equestrian boots? She probably didn’t even own a cowboy hat.
He didn’t actually think that Floyd would hire the girl, and that sweaty kid, Ronald wasn’t a viable option. Russ hopped into the old pickup and started her up with a roar, the rusty exhaust system holding on by a thread. Russ wasn’t a superstitious man, but he had stopped washing the old Ford months ago, convinced that it was only the layers of red ranch dirt holding her together. It would only be a matter of time before Brody was back on the ranch and he could take a minute to breathe.
As he clunked it into reverse, he was startled by a banging on the window.
“Jeez, Floyd,” he said, startled.
“It’s not like I snuck up on you,” Floyd laughed. “I want you to come and see something.”
“Can it wait until the afternoon? I really want to get that pond section of the fence fixed up.” Russ said, putting the truck back into park.
“Nah. You should come now.” Floyd smiled and opened up the truck’s door with a creak.
Russell sighed and jumped out of the cab of the truck, wondering what Floyd found more important than stopping their herd of bison from wandering all the way to New Mexico. He followed the old man through the horse barn to the rear where they were keeping the new horses. When the door clattered, the herd scattered in a frenzy of dust and whinnying. Russ squinted into the distance at the far end of the makeshift ring he had built. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw one of the mustangs with a rope dangling from its neck, Sydney was walking astride the horse, her hand on its muscular shoulder.
“How the heck did she do that?” he said under his breath.
Floyd clapped him on the shoulder. “I was wondering the same thing myself.”
Sydney hadn’t noticed the two of them, and Russell found himself holding his breath as he watched her with the horse. The sun was beating down from the sky and the dust swirled around her in the hot breeze. The swirling dirt wrapping Sydney and the horse in its own little world. The white mane of the mustang blew against Sydney, her blonde hair wisped out to the side as the duo walked together.
“Still want Brody back?” Floyd whispered.
Russell looked at the old man, and then to Sydney, and then back to Floyd. “That’s the mare I’ve been working with. I’ve already put the work in with that one.” Russell wasn’t lying, he had been working with that particular horse, she had spoken to him more than any of the other horses, and Sydney had obviously picked up on the same thing too.
“She’s not going to be much use with the fence repairs,” Russ muttered.
Floyd cleared his throat and leaned on the old worn barn door, “Well, you see, I figured she could work with these horses here, and that way you could focus on the repairs that need to be done ‘round this place.”
Russ sucked in his breath and stared at Floyd. He counted to three, knowing that if he said what was on his mind, it wouldn’t be pretty. On three, Russell exhaled, “You want her to replace me with the breaking?”
“Relax, Russ. Replace ain’t the right word. We need that fence fixed, and we need these horses broke. Makes sense to
do it that way.”
Russ was shaking and gripped his hands into tight balls at his side, not only was Floyd going to hire this uppity bitch, she was going to replace him. “She’s in way over her head,” Russ said through his teeth.
“Don’t look like it to me,” Floyd replied, staring at Sydney as she continued to lap the small training ring.
Russ turned and grabbed the barn door, slamming it with all his might. It rebounded back past him and knocked over a couple of metal pails and a pitchfork. The bang and clang spooking every horse. Russ turned to the training ring to see the horse rear up, whinnying, swinging its head back and forth, the loose rope transformed into a flailing whip. Sydney was knocked backward and scuttled like a crab back to the side of the ring, away from the thousand-pound animal and its bucking hooves.
“Grow up, son,” Floyd said, shaking his head. “I’m not dead yet, and that means I’m still the boss. The girl stays. If you want to keep working at Blackgum, you best pick up those buckets and head on out to meet Eddie with the fence wire.”
Russell knew that he was being immature, and that stunt could’ve caused a lot of harm to Sydney and the horses, but he was overcome with anger. “Floyd, this is a mistake,” he seethed, shaking his finger at him, “But I’m going to let you make it and see for yourself. Don’t expect me to help Miss Priss with any of this,” Russ said, gesturing to the herd of stampeding horses.
As he turned to leave, his eyes met Sydney’s, or he thought they did. They were far enough away that it was impossible to know where the woman was looking, but Russell could feel her green eyes boring into him with hatred. He averted his gaze, grabbed the metal buckets, and stomped back through the barn.
He tossed the pails in the bed of the pickup with a clang and sped off in a cloud of dust. Things were never going to be the same at Blackgum Acres ever again.
Chapter 11 – Sydney
Sydney knew as soon as she saw the horse. She had the calmest energy and seemed to be watching Sydney’s every move. It hadn’t taken much to separate her from the herd and into the small training ring.
If you could even call it a training ring. Syd was used to professional indoor facilities. This was a dirt circle fenced in with old gray pieces of wood, the flimsily hammered boards the only thing keeping it separated from the larger paddock.
Floyd handed her an old grimy suede work glove and placed some chopped apples in her palm as she walked in to meet the horses. She held out her hand, palm flat, cubed apples exposed, and sauntered around the circle. It didn’t take long for Applesauce, that’s what Sydney had already named her, to give in to curiosity and follow, nipping at the pieces in her glove. She held the rope in her right hand and as Applesauce finished off the last piece, she slowly slid the loop over her head and white mane. Sydney had expected the horse to resist, or buck, but she hadn’t. She wondered if this particular horse had been worked with before because it was way too easy.
She let the rope fall to the ground and rested her hand on the horse’s shoulder while continuing to walk alongside her. It was hot as hell, and while there was some wind, it wasn’t doing anything to cool the air. Sydney knew that she had found one friend at the ranch. Applesauce was the only being that hadn’t dished out a steaming pile of disgruntled shit at her.
Her reverie was interrupted as a huge bang and subsequent clatter rang out from the barn, breaking the spell with Applesauce. She reared up and started bucking wildly, catching Sydney off guard and knocking her off her feet into the dirt.
“Oof,” Syd grunted as the air was knocked out her. She saw the horse revert back to fight or flight mode and knew that if she didn’t get out of the way she could easily be trampled in two seconds flat. She scurried to the edge of the training ring and rolled under the lowest rail of the makeshift fence.
When she looked to see where the sound had come from, she saw two figures at the barn, the stout pudgy man was Floyd, and the other, the tall Stetson-wearing man had to be Russell. She couldn’t tell for sure, but something in her gut told her that it was him and that he had been responsible for spooking Applesauce.
“Asshole,” she seethed. In Applesauce, she had made her first friend, and she was disheartened to realize that in Russell, her first enemy. He knew horses, which made it harder to believe that he had done it on purpose. What he had done could’ve set back any progress indefinitely.
She caught her breath and grasped the worn post to help ease herself to her feet. She was rehearsing what she was going to say to Russell, but when she looked back she saw that he was gone, and that Floyd was slowly making his way toward her.
She was shaken up, but the fence provided her with enough support so that she could stand. She didn’t want Floyd to think that she was weak, and that one knock-down could stop her.
“That was beautiful,” Floyd said.
Sydney was surprised, she thought that Floyd was going to come over and tell her to start hitchhiking back to town. “She spooks easily,” Syd replied. “I wonder what happened?” She played dumb, even though she had a damn good idea what had happened.
“Looks like the wind caught that old door,” Floyd said, covering for Russell.
Sydney pursed her mouth, she saw that Floyd’s loyalties to his ranch hands were strong, “Looks like it,” she replied.
“What made you pick that particular horse?” Floyd asked.
“Applesauce?”
“That what we’re calling her?” Floyd chuckled, “I like it.”
“I liked her demeanor and I could tell that she was interested in me,” Sydney replied. She dusted off the front of her black pants and smiled at Floyd.
“That’s what Russell said,” Floyd replied.
“Oh, did he?” Sydney was surprised that hot-headed Russ could pick up on any nuances.
“Well, Miss Sydney, I’d like you to come and break all of these horses for me. I can only pay two hundred dollars a week, but you’ll have your own private bunkhouse, and all of your home cookin’ included. What do you say?”
Syd glanced at her surroundings, she could see another larger barn in the distance past the main house. The fence line that stitched together the fields disappeared off into the horizon, islands of trees dotted the property, and she could see a cluster of small outbuildings. It smelled terrible, the heat was unbearable, and the pay was garbage.
She looked to Applesauce, who had since calmed and was watching her with interest; clapped her hands together in an attempt to get the dust off of them, the red soil already caked under her fingernails, “I’ll do it,” she replied.
Chapter 12 – Russell
Russ was tired. He sat on the end of his bed and pulled off his boots, letting them fall to the floorboards with a dusty clunk. He switched on the fan on his nightstand and eased back onto his single bed. Every muscle in his body was aching, especially his back. The cicadas were still buzzing well into dusk and the spring peepers had started up with their high-pitched chorus.
“Damn peepers,” Russ muttered to himself. Most people found the sound to be relaxing, like loons on a northern lake, but Russell had heard them all his life, and all he knew was that they kept him up at night.
The heat was unbearable, and Russell sat up, unsnapped his plaid shirt and pulled off his jeans. He was too hot and tired to shower, even though he knew that it would make him feel a million times better. He pulled out his phone and plugged it into his little speaker, Conway Twitty coming to life through the tiny box.
He had apologized to Floyd about the whole door slamming business, embarrassed, but satisfied that it proved that Sydney wasn’t the miracle horse whisperer everyone thought she was. Floyd had accepted his apology and then informed him that he had offered the job to the girl. Russ had nodded and walked away before he said something that would hurt his employment. He and Floyd were tight, but he didn’t want to lose his job over this girl. She could come in, help with the horses and then be out of their hair forever. Russ was worried about Floyd and his increa
singly bizarre decisions. Hiring that blonde bitch, his latest.
He shut his eyes and just started to feel his body fall heavy with sleep when a banging on the door woke him. He groaned and rolled out of bed onto the floor on his knees, the easiest way for him to stand when his back was acting up.
He swung the door open to see Floyd on his porch, his hat in his hands.
“Everything okay, Floyd?” Russell asked.
“Can I come in?”
“Sure, have a seat,” Russell said, grabbing his pants and shirt from the wooden rocking chair in the corner. He took a seat on his bed and turned down the music. Floyd was gripping his hat and seemed to be having a hard time looking Russell in the eye.
“Hot in here,” Floyd said.
“Yeah,” Russell agreed.
“Russ. You’re my best worker and I don’t wanna lose ya,” Floyd said.
“I’m not going anywhere, Floyd. You don’t have to worry about that,” Russ said, trying to reassure the old man.
“You’re better than this place, you know? Always have been. I’ve been lucky to have had you this long.”
“I like it here just fine,” Russell said. He was telling the truth, there wasn’t anything wrong with his job. He got his hands dirty, got to be around horses, which was a hell of a lot better than having to deal with people all day.
“I’ve got a tall favor to ask,” Floyd said, finally bringing his gaze to meet Russell’s.
“Anything,” Russell said, and he meant it.
“Well, you see. With Sydney comin’ to work here -- she’s coming back day after tomorrow to start -- well, I—”
“Out with it,” Russell interrupted, although he had a pretty good idea where Floyd was going.
