by A. J. Wynter
“Oh, Sherry has had a crush on me since we were in middle school,” Russ said. He picked up his mug, “Cheers, Sydney, to the best damn trainer in the state.”
Sydney lifted her mug, “To the best damn training duo in the state,” she smiled and clinked her glass to Russ’s. Sydney was pissed that Russ hadn’t introduced her as his girlfriend and was shocked at her desire to stake a claim on her cowboy. She wondered if Shelly and Russ had ever been together but decided not to push. He was with her now, that’s all that mattered.
When their dinner came, Sydney was shocked by the mountain of food, “It’s true, everything is bigger in Texas,” she said, her eyes wide, taking in the burger and fries scaled for a giant.
“Ain’t that the truth, honey,” Sherry said and winked at Russell.
Sydney felt her face flush red with anger at Sherry’s cheap innuendo.
“Thank you, Sherry. I think that we have everything we need,” Russ said, not looking at the waitress.
Sherry huffed, turned on her cowboy boots and walked away from the table, clearly not getting the reaction that she was looking for.
“Ignore her,” Russ said.
“Easier said than done. She’s a real in your face kinda gal.” Sydney attempted to take a bite of her giant burger, its contents spilling out onto the wax paper in the basket. She picked up a thick cut French fry and dabbed it into the ketchup and mustard concoction on her plate. “So, when do you think Mr. Tiller is going to get back to us?”
“Not too sure; things don’t happen too quickly down here.”
An amplifier squealed with feedback and Sydney jumped in her seat. She turned to see a five-piece band plugging in their instruments. The bar was getting louder and rowdier with every minute that passed.
“This is where you hang out?” she shouted over the rising din.
“It’s the only place,” Russ smiled. “This is where the boys got into the bar fight over a fiddle player, and it looks like she’s back,” he nodded his head toward the stage as a young raven-haired girl opened up her fiddle case.
“Do you think that Eddie and Carter are going to show up?”
“I’d bet money on it,” Russ said, cutting into his thick striploin.
Both of their eyes snapped as Sydney’s cell phone buzzed on the table. Tillers’ Ranch lit up the display.
“Oh, my god, should I get it?” Sydney asked.
“How are we going to know if you don’t?” Russ shoved the phone toward Sydney with his fingertips.
Sydney rubbed her hands on the paper napkin in her lap and rushed out to the front porch to answer the phone before her voicemail picked up. Her fingers were shaking as she jabbed at the green button on the phone.
“H-H-hello, Sidney Strachan speaking.”
Chapter 29 – Russell
Sydney's shoulders were slumped when she walked back into the restaurant, her phone held loosely in her hand. Russ knew that they didn’t get the job, and he had a good idea why.
Dakota.
He knew that he was going to have to tell Sydney about their history. While he was dreading telling her about who he used to be, he realized that he could use it to his advantage. All he had to do was tell her what kind of asshole he used to be and that should send her running for the hills.
Sydney slid onto the picnic table bench and shoved her phone into her purse. "We didn't get it."
Russ set down his steak knife. "Did they say why?"
"Yeah," Sydney replied. "Turns out that one of their staff members doesn't think that you would be a good addition to their team."
"Let me guess. That team member was Dakota."
"He didn't say, but based on what I saw today, that's who I'd put my money on." Sydney sniffed, and Russ saw that her eyes were rimmed with red, she had been crying. He reached out to hold her hand. She let him take it and lowered her eyes, focusing on the half-eaten burger and fries in the basket in front of her. "You never did tell me what happened between you two."
Russ sighed. He knew that it was coming, and here it was. He rubbed her fingers with his thumb and pushed his plate aside, any remaining hunger replaced with stomach jitters. The sinking kind, not the excited kind. "Dakota was on my team. He was kind of like my kid brother growing up, had always looked up to me. I loved him like he was my real brother. You have to understand, Sydney. Rodeo life is a very different kind of life. When you're good, you're treated like a rock star."
Sydney looked at Russ, "I know, you keep telling me that, but what exactly does it mean?"
Russ reached out to grasp her other hand. "It means that I was arrogant and I thought that my shit didn't stink. I used women and didn't think twice about it. Every town we went to, women would throw themselves at me, and I didn't exactly fight them off."
"So, you slept around a lot. I get it," Sydney said. "Was Dakota the same?"
"No, as a flankman, he didn't have the same rock star status. He did well, but he wasn't cut from the same cloth."
"What do you mean?"
"Dakota had a girlfriend in one of the towns the rodeo visited; he loved her and planned on marrying her. He was old fashioned and would write her letters and send her postcards from across the country. He talked to her on the phone every night, and when we got to town, he would spend every second he could with her."
"And let me guess, you slept with her." Sydney's voice was flat, and she tried to pull her fingers out of his grip.
"I did, and I'm not proud of it."
“It would be fucked up if you were. Why did you do it?"
"I've been asking myself the same question for years. I was used to getting everything that I wanted. The girls that I, um, the girls that I took home, it was easy. Dakota's girlfriend Erica, well she was the one thing that I couldn't have."
"And why would she sleep with you, if she was so in love with him?"
"We were all drinking, all high on drugs that we shouldn't have been taking. Dakota burst in on us and I thought that he was going to kill me right then and there, but he was oddly relaxed about the whole thing."
"What? He didn't punch you out? Beat you up? Nothing?"
"Well, nothing that night."
"What do you mean?" Sydney's voice was cold, but she couldn't hide the intrigue in her voice.
"Well, it turns out that Erica hadn't exactly been loyal to Dakota and he had set up the whole scene to see if she would take the bait. Me, being that bait. And me being the dog that I used to be, I walked right into that trap."
Sydney pulled her hands off the table and set them in her lap. Russ knew that she wasn't too happy with this story, but if he didn't tell her now, it was bound to come out sooner or later.
"So, why do you hate him so much? Seems like he should be the one with all the animosity, not you?"
"Well, Dakota was second in line on our team, he was what they call a flankman. He worked in the chutes preparing the bulls, and if I was injured or sick, he got to ride. I guess he was tired of living in the shadows and tired of seeing me get all the glory. I think that he justified his actions by what happened with Erica."
"What actions?"
"He was in charge of setting up the bull the next day. He sabotaged my ride - the bull rope wasn't secure. I have no proof that he did it, but he was too damn good to fuck up that badly. Two seconds out into the ring, everything loosened and I was thrown into the guardrails. That's how I broke my back. That's what ended my rodeo career. That's who ended my rodeo career and ruined my life, Dakota."
"And now he's done it again," Sydney said quietly. She took a sip of her beer and filled the glass from the pitcher. "I can see why he'd hate you, and I can see why you'd hate him. I don't know which one of you is worse though."
Here it was, Russ's chance.
"I know that you probably think less of me and I wouldn't hold it against you if you walked out of here and never wanted to see me again."
"Part of me wants to, Russ. I mean, I never pictured myself with someone capable of doing su
ch shitty things, but Rodeo Russell isn't the Russ that's sitting in front of me right now. I know that you've changed."
"Maybe people can't change," Russ said and drained his beer. "Maybe I'm just destined to be a washed-up cowboy dreaming about the good old days."
Sydney shifted in her seat and Russell noticed her purse her lips like she was holding back.
"What?" he asked. He could tell that she wanted to say something.
"This time here with me, the potential for our new company, couldn't these be the good new days?"
Russ felt like his heart was about to drop out of his chest. It was true, he was the happiest he had ever been in his life. The rodeo days were fun, but he had never felt the satisfaction he felt being with Sydney and working alongside her.
"They could, Sydney. But I think that it's time for you to go home now," Russ saw Sydney's eyes widen and then couldn't meet them one second longer. He stared down at the wood grain on the table.
"Russ, what do you mean? Go home? This is my home now."
"You don't belong here, Syd. You know it, I know it, your dad knows it."
"But I do belong here. I love you. I love the horses. I even love that damn ramshackle ranch."
"Sydney, you're a smart woman, but you are making a very bad decision right now. I love you and I don't want you to leave, but I also don't want to be the reason that you ruined your life."
"But Russ, what about our business?"
"We didn't get the job with the Tillers, so that should be your sign to go home."
"No," Sydney said and slammed her glass down on the table. "That just means that it's time for you and me to step up and do our own thing. Don't you see that it's a good thing that we didn't get that job? Now we're free, we're free to do anything we want."
"You stay here, you lose all that family money of yours. How are we supposed to run this business on what Floyd pays us? It would take at least $20,000 to get things up and running. Where the hell are we going to get that kind of money. It's not going to happen."
"We can save. We can get other jobs, Russ. This is an opportunity for us. I love you and I'm not leaving."
The last thing that Russ wanted in this world was to hurt Sydney. He was hoping he could talk some sense into her, to persuade her to leave and go back to her proper life. The more she resisted, the more he could see that she wasn't going to listen to him. Sydney reached her hands across the table to hold Russ's. "I love you Russ, and I'm not going anywhere. There is nothing that you or my dad can say or do to change my mind."
"Woman, you are stubborn, I'll give you that." Russ held her fingers and tried to hold in his smile. He loved what a spitfire Sydney had become, but she needed to apply that to her studies and her career.
"So, it's settled. I'm not going anywhere."
He hated it, he already hated himself, but he did it for her. He pulled his hands back, cleared his throat and said the words that he hoped would never pass over his lips.
"I don't love you, Sydney. I never did, and I never will."
Chapter 30 – Sydney
Sydney stared at the stubbled face of the man she loved. She wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her. The band had started to warm up and the bar had gotten rowdier, but she knew she wasn't hearing things.
"You're lying," she leaned in and hissed at him.
"I'm not lying, Sydney. You've had your fun here slumming with the local so, it's time for you to get your socialite ass out of this town."
He couldn't meet her eyes. She reached out her hand to grab his, and he yanked it away like she had stabbed him with a cattle prod. "No, Russ. I know what you're doing, and I don't appreciate it."
"What I'm doing?" His voice grew in volume. "What I'm doing? I ain't doing anything. I'm telling you like it is." He took a deep breath and leaned in to meet her, his eyes cold and dead, "I got what I wanted from you and now it's time for you to go."
"No," Sydney said, leaning back and crossing her arms. I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're being like this. Did my dad say something to you?" She was trying hard to hold back the tears, but deep down in her gut, she knew that Russell was lying to her. He couldn't meet her eyes and she could see him holding his breath like he was trying to hold back tears.
"I'm not a puppet. I don't take orders from anyone. Not you, not your father, no one. We are through Sydney.
"You two all finished here?" Sherry was back at the table.
"We're done," Russ said without looking at her.
Sherry looked between Sydney and Russell and gathered up their baskets of half eaten dinner. "Trouble in paradise?" she said under her breath.
Sydney felt the fury rise up in her body like lava, and she spit fire, "Back off, you hillbilly bitch," she seethed.
"Whoa, easy there," Sherry smirked. "Russ don't like the feisty ones," she said and winked at Sydney.
"Just leave us, Sherry," Russ sounded defeated.
Sherry ripped the hand-written receipt off her notepad and slammed it down on the table with her frosted fingernails. Russ pulled out his wallet and slapped three twenties on the table.
"No, I've got this one," Sydney said, reaching for her purse.
"I don't need your damn charity. Get the fuck out of here, Syd. I never want to see you ever again."
Sydney felt the tears rising to the surface. She couldn't believe how quickly her day had turned from the highlight of her young life to the worst day she could imagine. She felt like a part of her soul had been ripped from her body and she was operating on autopilot. If she had been more experienced, she would've realized that she was in shock. She couldn't move. She couldn't believe what had just happened.
"Get up and get out of here," Russ said, slamming his fist on the table so hard that the neighboring picnic table shook.
The vibration from the table rocked Sydney out of her trance and her sadness was replaced by anger. She didn't know whether to be angry at Russ or angry at herself. If Russ was lying to get her to leave, he was a damn coward. If he was just another asshole, she truly was a naive little girl who would never learn her lesson. Either way, she didn't want to be sitting in this dive bar with the plucky country music and flat draught beer one second longer.
She grabbed her purse, dismounted the picnic table and rushed out of the bar, hot tears streaming down her face. She didn't look back, but if she had she would've seen Russ with his head in his hands, the same hot tears streaming down his face.
Chapter 31 - Russell
Russ wiped the tears away, hoping that nobody in the bar had seen this cowboy cry, especially Sydney. If she was to believe his asshole façade, there was no way that she could see him cry. He ordered another pitcher of beer and watched the door to the bar, hoping that Sydney would rush back in, that she could be back in his life, but knew that he had hurt her far too badly for that to happen.
He hated himself, but he knew that he had saved her life. Ten years from now, when she was married and living in the Hamptons, or wherever it is that rich people from Connecticut live, with her perfect doctor husband and her perfect private school kids, she would call and thank him. She would realize how shitty her life would've been living in dusty, old rural Texas with a has-been who couldn't offer her anything.
"Another pitcher, lover boy?" Sherry drawled as Russell drained his glass.
"I think I need something harder," he growled.
"I've got just the thing." She sashayed back to the bar and returned with a couple of shots of whiskey on her tray.
"What's this?" Russ was starting to slur.
"It's your favorite. You don't think I've forgotten, do you?"
"Jack?"
"You got it, Sugar," she replied as she took a shot off the tray and downed it.
Russ looked up at Eddie and Carter walked into the bar. "Better fill up that tray."
Chapter 32 – Russell
Russ woke up with a pounding headache. Years of getting up with the sun had hard-wired his circadian rhythm, and
he peeked out the curtain of Sherry's window to see the glow of the sun just about to crest the horizon. He groaned and rolled off her torn pleather couch. His memory was hazy and the last thing he remembered was being dragged out of the bar with Eddie.
He shook his head and heard a buzz saw sound coming from Sherry's room. He looked down and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that he was still fully dressed, boots and all. There was no way he would've been able to get out of his boots in the condition he had been in. He noticed a familiar pair of boots and jeans strewn on the threadbare carpet outside of Sherry's bedroom. Eddie.
Russ shook Eddie's pants and his truck keys jangled to the floor. He snatched them up and rubbed his eyes as he made his way into the kitchen to take a drink of water directly from the kitchen tap.
"Ed," He rapped his knuckle on the bedroom door.
No response.
"Eddie," he knocked louder and cracked open the door. He didn't want to see anything that he couldn't unsee later.
"Yeah," he heard Eddie croak.
"I'm taking your truck."
He heard the bedsprings creak and Eddie's feet hit the floor. "I'm coming with you."
"You might need these," Russ said as he grabbed Eddie's pants and boots and tossed them into the bedroom.
Neither of them should've been driving, even though they had gotten some sleep, they were likely still drunk from the night before. The amount of booze they drank was enough to kill a herd of cows.
Russ squinted against the sunlight as they drove east toward the ranch, wishing that he had his sunglasses with him.
"Are you going to tell me what the hell that was all about?" Eddie asked ten minutes into their drive.
"What do you mean? You’re the one who just had his clothes strewn all over the town bicycle’s house."
"That's par for the course,' Eddie joked. "But seriously, man. I haven't seen you like that in years. You were in rough shape when we got to the bar. You could hardly talk. Sherry said that you and your hoity-toity bitch had a fight and she left. I'm assuming that she was referring to Syd."
