RanchersHealingTouch

by Arthur Mitchell

  The chase lasts all night. When one of the riders finally catches up to a huge gray beast, he lifts his dark hat high above his toned neck, giving out a whoop of triumph.

  She doesn't see what happens next. It looks like the wolf is trampled under the horse's hooves and disappears.

  Next thing she knows, the godly figure is off his horse and coming toward her, wearing nothing but a tight clinging pair of jean shorts.

  “Got something for you, beautiful.” Brax's voice calms her.

  In his right hand, he's carrying a huge bucket filled with sparkling water. He reaches for her head, urging her down to her knees with his big hand pressed firmly on her shoulder.

  “You're going to feel so much better...”

  The freezing water crashes over her, a seemingly endless stream that freezes her in place. When she looks up at the empty bucket and the sweat glistening on his broad chest, she sees herself reflected in his eyes.

  Everything about her posture drips lust. She reaches for the hem of her sopping wet dress. It's become an unnatural barrier that needs to come off, but the landscape is beginning to collapse behind him.

  “Huh?” Sadie rolls and hears the alarm clock's kettle bell chime.

  Groggy, she rises and sits on the edge of her bed. It's a new day, unstoppable as the orange glow wavering cross the hills.

  Outside, Brax has given her yet another task to see if it's a better fit. Dinkie carefully guides her over to the fence, shooting her wary glances and a lot of forced politeness.

  The distrust is mutual. Sadie stiffens, careful to put aside their last spat for the rancher's sake, without lowering her guard.

  “See this pen over here?” He lifts his plump hat, pointing to a huge gated enclosure a couple yards away. “I'm going to run the cattle through these walls.”

  “Got it. What do you need me for?” The weight in her chest sinks a little lower.

  I have a bad feeling about this.

  “You're the lynch-pin. When I run 'em down the path here, you're gonna hold the gate. Soon as they're all inside, you slam it shut. Here, let's do a practice round.”

  Dinkie moves to the gate and snaps off the lock, spreading the door wide until it touches the wall. He waves to her, gesturing to place the rusty bars in her hands.

  “Give it a good push. Best one you can muster.”

  Her heels dig deep into the soft soil. It's much heavier to move than it looks.

  She growls, hoping her bones don't break from the exertion. Slowly, the gate begins to swing back toward its notch. She slides along with it.

  Finally, it clicks into place. She slumps against the top bar. Behind her, Dinkie's rowdy laughter curdles the air.

  “Not bad. But you gotta be faster than that! Took you almost a whole thirty seconds to get it shut.

  That's more than enough time for a big bull to poke his head out.”

  “Let me try again.”

  She turns, wielding her most determined stare. Dinkie's irritating smile vanishes.

  “Alright. I'll give you a couple more practice runs. But then we gotta get moving. We got a whole herd that's supposed to be out here for inspection within the hour.”

  Every practice round, she manages to move it a little faster. The shrieking hinges blast her ears as it fights her the whole way toward its resting place.

  “I need...just a minute to recover.” She hates gulping for breath in his presence, exposing her weakness.

  “Catch your breath, now. I'm gonna round up Pete to help me drive them in here. I'll try to shuttle them deeper into the pen so they don't bother you. Fast as I can.”

  A few minutes later, she's replenished her oxygen – and just in time. The ground shakes with thunderous hooves.

  A large mass of long horned cattle run toward her. Sadie tightens her fingers around the top of the gate, making her hands rigid and ready for their onslaught.

  Please let this thing fall into place. I need to do right today. There might not be another chance...

  Most of them are powerful males. Dinkie jogs alongside their ranks.

  He speeds them through the opening, holding the long taser high above their heads and letting the electricity crackle through the air. The animals know the sound.

  Gradually, their numbers thin, and they're nearly all inside. Dinkie cups a hand across his mouth and yells over to her.

  “Swing the gate! We gotta move now!”

  Sadie groans with the old metal, kicking at the earth as furiously as the cattle. It moves fluidly, and for a second it looks like everything is perfect.

  Near the end, the last bull turns.

  She jumps back right before one of its horns slashes through an opening between bars. The beast snorts, dangerously close to her face.

  With a scream, she topples backward. The bull jerks its head again, causing its hard spear to clang against the metal.

  “The gate, woman! The gate! Get up and keep swinging.”

  Dinkie lunges forward, trying to catch the other end so he can push back. But the bull is too quick.

  It explodes outward, doubly enraged now that its horn is free. The beast races past the portly man, but not before grazing his shoulder. Her partner screams in agony.

  “No! Hold on.”

  The gate clicks and she double checks the lock. It holds.

  “Are you okay? Let me get some help,” she whispers, reaching for his hand.

  Dinkie brushes her away. There's a nasty gash along his bicep. The bull's horn has torn clear through his shirt.

  Up ahead, just beyond the corner of the shed, several men are yelling. Her heart sinks, slightly slower when she realizes they aren't cries of pain, but surprise.

  The bull's snorts mix with their commotion. The obvious struggle goes on for awhile, until it abruptly stops – probably because the men have managed to wrangle it back into its stables.

  Damn! This wasn't supposed to happen again. He's brushing me off, and I don't know what to do.

  He's blaming me for everything. If it gets to his boss...

  She turns toward the sound of an engine roaring behind her. It's the sound of her worst nightmare coming into existence.

  Brax's large SUV screams to a stop.

  He leaps out the door without his hat, wearing the most intense mask she's ever seen.

  “Dinkie. Hold still, man. I better get you to a doctor.”

  “Let me fucking go!” The older man snaps, mere inches from whacking his boss in the head. “I've suffered bigger cuts than this. Respectfully, sir, you got bigger fish to fry than looking after me.”

  “I'm not sure what you're talking about.” The rancher frowns. “Go home. Have Pete or Charlie drive you. I can't let you work the rest of the day until you get that patched up.”

  “Only thing that needs to be patched around here is her screw ups. Yeah, boss, the truth hurts. But somebody's gotta say it anyway.” Glaring, he steps past Brax.

  Just before he's out of range, Brax's arm shoots out. Dinkie spins with the fabric, until he's face to face with his boss.

  “Listen. I don't care how hurt you are. If you gotta problem, then you talk to me in private. Not in front of her. I'll take care of this, and you take care of your own damned business.”

  Looking much paler, Dinkie falls from his grasp. He runs off without another word, holding his wounded arm.

  “And Sadie...”

  Shit. Please, let him go easy on me. I didn't mean any of this.

  “Come inside the house. We're going to figure something out right now. This has to stop.”

  Following him to his truck is her only option. Making her feet move in unison with his feels harder than forcing the gate across the gap.

  It's a short, tense ride to the house. On the way up the path, Sadie walks in front of him, feeling the fire hurling from his eyes.

  “Sit down. Before I say anything else, you have to know that I'm not gonna give up on you. I'm not going to stop helping you out.”

  “Maybe I
don't want your help.”

  That's a lie. Her thoughts turn jagged, piercing her mind with fear and disgust.

  “This isn't an even exchange. I can't even close a fricking fence. What good am I here?”

  No answer. Brax settles his fist on the smooth table across from her, inhaling the silence around them.

  “Not much. Not yet, anyway. We've learned that you aren't cut out for the work outdoors.”

  “Great. That makes me feel so much better.” She hates the flood of sarcasm pouring out her mouth, but there's no stopping it.

  “I told you I'd give you another chance. I'm a man of my word, Sadie. Starting tomorrow, let's see how well you do keeping the house clean and preparing food. Do you have any experience at all with those things? Think. Think hard.”

  She closes her eyes for a moment. A vague outline of a grungy stove top flashes in her mind.

  She leans over it, carefully measuring powdery spices. At least they seem like spices.

  But spices shouldn't require the kind of protection she remembers. A slim mask stretches across her mouth and nose as she cooks. It's not enough to keep her from smelling the awful fumes rising toward her face.

  The memory fades with a sigh.

  “I think so. I know how to use a stove and I can measure, at least.”

  “Good. We've gotten off to a rocky start putting you to work, but there's plenty of time to turn it around.” He reaches for her hand.

  The movement shocks her. His grip is strong, domineering, and soothing all at once, a rugged blend of contrasts – just like the rest of him.

  “I believe in you, Sadie. I'm a believer in fate too. We found you on that stormy night for a reason...we just haven't figured out what it is yet. But I'm gonna keep digging.”

  She squeezes his hand and then slips from his grasp. It's too hard to hold on indefinitely, listening to his words, without blushing.

  His brow is strong, so powerful it comforts even when he's unhappy. A single bead of sweat runs off his temple like water.

  I don't have time for this. The last thing I need to think about right now are those daydreams I've had of him in the shower.

  Embarrassment nips at the base of her spine. Thankfully, it doesn't blossom anywhere into a crimson flush.

  “Am I excused?”

  “Sure are. Go rest up before dinner. I have some more business to take care of out there. Tomorrow's going to be a new beginning, Sadie. Count on it.”

  III: Country Healing

  Kneading dough in the kitchen isn't as bad as Sadie expects. It's the third batch she's run through the huge silver mixing bowl, making enough bread to feed a small army.

  Actually, that's exactly what Brax has called for.

  He's a generous boss. A mid-sized ranch in a small town like his can't afford great benefits, but it can serve up plenty of free meals.

  Aside from their own dinners, most of the food will go to his men, many of whom are too poor to bring their own lunches everyday. It's a full time job keeping them fed – one he often had to outsource to a local housekeeper and cook.

  At least I'm saving him some money. I suppose that makes me a little more useful than I thought.

  At first, sticking her inside to bake and sweep the floors felt demeaning. She wanted to prove that she fit in on the ranch, no different than the rest of the workers.

  Now, the housework has caught up to her in a traditional way that caused her to squirm restlessly in her sleep.

  “But not all traditions are bad. This...I don't mind so much.”

  She digs deep into the dough and scoops it out after it's thoroughly mixed. The timer on the table goes off, signaling that the latest batch is ready to exit the oven, golden and piping hot.

  Sadie digs apart the end of one of the small loaves for a test bite. With a little butter spattered on top, it disappears behind her lips, crunchy and succulent.

  “Wow. Never knew I could cook like this. That's natural talent, I guess.”

  Amazingly, the bread is good.

  Work on the next batch of dough begins. Several long ivory streaks of flour escape the measuring cup as she's dipping into the bag.

  They spill across her skin, powdery and soft. With her opposite hand, she pauses and scoops it off her arms.

  Between her fingers, the flour feels...curious. Familiar. Horribly familiar.

  The adrenaline rush almost knocks her to the floor.

  She grabs for the counter before the falls. Sadie's breathing intensifies, echoing loudly throughout the empty kitchen like a cruel taunt.

  “What's happening to me?”

  Hunched over, she walks to the table and slides into one of the empty chairs. Sitting down helps, but not by much.

  Where do I know this white powder from?

  Oh, God. It's cocaine, isn't it? Illegal, dangerous, and so desired...

  Nerves in her temples throb painfully. She cradles her head, trying to push the undesirable thought aside.

  That can't be it. I'm not some fucking druggie. It's got to be from somewhere else.

  Deep inside, a doubtful voice stirs her fragile consciousness. Being a junkie would explain everything. Easily.

  Fleeing across the country in a bad storm, the memory lapses. But then, why don't I feel a desire to use this stuff? Why do I feel only repulsed?

  Just on the verge of hyper-ventilating, she catches herself. Sadie straightens her spine and breaths deep, an old calming technique that feels equally as familiar as the white stuff.

  “It's all in the past now. It doesn't matter. Not for what I'm doing today. This flour isn't a drug.”

  She moves to the counter, forcing herself to work again. Her hands are shaky when she plunges them into the soft mix.

  But slowly, they begin to settle. No, shaping dough doesn't have anything to do with drugs after all.

  The rest of the batches go smoothly. She's grateful to clean up, though.

  A little sweeping awaits, and then dinner and a shower.

  She dines alone in the huge kitchen. Brax has gone away to Wyoming on business for a few days.

  In some ways, it's a relief. She hums to herself reassuringly. For the first time in a long while, the day hasn't been a disaster.

  Keeping the house tidy is just as easy as cooking – or at least not as hard as the sticky back breaking labor outside. She spends the next few days dusting shelves, vacuuming, and organizing some old antique figurines that look like they've seen better days.

  Before she closes the glass case housing her boss' heirlooms, one of the fat little women catches her eye. She picks it up with a smile.

  “Hey, she's not fat. It's...a pregnant lady.”

  She turns the small, smiling woman over in her hands. The bottom reads MADE IN GERMANY.

  Might as well be from another world. It's nice to see that people used to admire such natural things.

  Talk about simpler times.

  Carefully, she pushes it into place, next to a happy lumberjack near the corner. The little collection makes her wonder who he inherited it from.

  Physical labor she can stand brings a pleasant regularity to life on the ranch. By the fourth day without any hitches, she wants to jump up and down.

  She's outside serving chili and bread to the workers when Brax's truck rolls in. The men instantly begin crowding around him, except for the ones who haven't gotten their fill yet.

  Dinkie returns for seconds, giving her a demanding wink.

  “Tastes real good, doll. Glad to see you've found something you're good at.”

  Just let it slide. It's nice to get a little respect around here. Even from him.

  Normally, she wouldn't be able to keep from rolling her eyes. But the rancher's return washes away all the small frustrations, including uncivilized workers.

  “That's right, boys! We're gonna have twice the head of cattle out here next year. Might have to buy a few more acres off old man Vock next door.”

  Sadie beams at the news. Half a dozen m
en take turns slapping Brax's shoulders as he moves through the crowd.

  “Hey, beautiful. What's cooking?”

  She lifts a bowl and spoons out a large ladle of chili. It passes toward him with a big loaf of bread.

  “Oh, that looks nice and thick. Smells spicy too.” He lifts the spoon to his mouth and closes his eyes.

  Seeing his face go tense with pleasure is funny – and arousing. Sadie laughs, covering up her baser thoughts.

  “Damn, girl! Did you use Momma's recipe?” He gulps down another bite, his eyes large with

  surprise. He hasn't tasted anything remotely like it for years.

  “Yeah. I found it in the old folder tucked by the cookbooks.”

  “That's amazing. Nobody's ever been able to get it done to my liking. I stopped having other people try for a long time. And me? I'm clueless when it comes to anything more complicated than steaks or breakfasts.”

  He eats half his portion in front of her, slowing his bites and smiling. “You're really in your element here, aren't you? Let's see what else you've done in the house.”

  She picks up the giant pot and follows him indoors. Accompanying Brax through the house makes her nervous.

  I really hope I've put everything back where it belongs. Surely, I didn’t throw out anything important

  – I tried so hard not to!

  When they step into the large living room, he lets out a whistle. Brax runs toward the fireplace and sweeps his finger across the cement stone surrounding the gate.

  “Awesome job. Haven't seen the thing free of soot since it was built. And that was back when I was a kid! Can't believe I didn't stop in here sooner. It's nice to do a check up like this, when I can take time to breathe and really see your good work.”

  Excitedly, he runs back to her, pulling her tight in a huge bear hug. She falls into his beautiful chest laughing, savoring the immense slab of his muscles.

  He holds her there for almost a minute, whispering encouragement and squeezing her close. Sadie doesn't miss the opportunity to inhale the divine air wafting off his neck.

  Incredible. His cologne is so spicy when it mingles with his sweat. Masculine and perfect.

  She worries about too much attention. Luckily, he releases her before the lust begins to build, threatening to overflow in a way that may betray everything.