His head was as full as his heart as he lay there. Carrie was staying.
Chapter 7
Carrie was eager to learn the ins and outs of the operation of the cattle ranch. She had a way with the horses and had all but taken over their daily care and maintenance. Carrie liked to work right alongside the men and Wes was all right with that as long as he or Kevin were present. Wes knew she was as tough as nails but she was still his little girl, so whenever the men were doing a job that was more dangerous than usual, he sent her in to help Mama. Carrie would pout but not much because she said she felt right at home in Mama’s warm kitchen. His words and warnings were enough to keep her in the house, save for one day—roundup day.
Roundup day was the single most dangerous day on a ranch, but also the one Carrie found the most intriguing. All of the cowboys used horses on Wes’ ranch to round up the cattle, a practice that ATV riding ranchers found old-fashioned. It was a powerful scene watching so many different moving pieces work together for the greater good of the herd. But on these days, even some of the more docile cattle became aggressive as they were a roaming grass-fed bunch and not used to being guided into small, confined spaces. It was a busy event, involving a large number of ranch personnel performing different tasks at the same time, and so it was made very clear to Carrie her place would be in the house. Later, in the whirlwind of the day, Wes was shocked to find the tiny blonde curiously looking over a veterinarian’s shoulder.
Kevin took over the lead of the roundup as, under the gaze of many curious eyes, Wes directed Carrie towards the barn, a firm grip on her upper arm. Carrie could be overheard making her excuses, but anyone could tell from Wes’ determined gait that the words had no effect on the cowboy’s resolve.
After closing the barn doors, Wes sat down on the bar height stool he kept by the little milking stool. He then took a small brown leather strap down from the wall. With no words and only one look, Wes beckoned Carrie to bare herself and lay over his lap, and she quickly obeyed. Wes’ lecture was short and stern, and had her crying before the first lick of the leather strap even bit into her tender flesh. The punishment was thorough and Carrie sobbed through the whole thing. Afterward, Wes held Carrie and explained that as far as her safety was concerned, he would always be the strictest daddy a girl could have. Then, he kissed her, and all was forgiven. That afternoon standing and working in the kitchen, looking longingly at the chair she was unable to sit on, Carrie knew she would never disobey Wes when he told her to stay in the house, ever again. Anytime she went to the barn after that day, she could see Wes had left the little brown strap hanging as a reminder to her, and the memory of the sting stayed with her.
The days were as long as they had been before Carrie’s arrival, and the work just as tough, but Wes never tired. His love for Carrie gave him a new energy that had him bounding across the ranch like a kid. He could care for the ranch and still provide her with the tender guidance, love, and attention that she craved. Night came, and he hated to go to sleep, to waste even a moment they could be together. Every evening, the couple would rock on the porch together in the cool night air. Mama would always sit with them a bit then excuse herself, leaving the couple alone to enjoy the quiet evening.
Wes had not moved into the guest room, as Carrie had requested. He had not gone any further with her than sweet kisses and gentle touches. He would lay with Carrie till she fell asleep, then go back to his room and lay alone, staring at the ceiling and listening to Amarillo in the Morning until he finally drifted off. When Carrie had first arrived, he had stopped her advances to protect his heart, he needed time. But slowly, he felt like he had begun to court her in an old-fashioned way, respecting her too much to go any further with her too soon.
The days passed peacefully, and the fulfilling rhythm of ranch life continued. The dryland hay had been fertilized just before Carrie’s arrival. Now, weeks later, the hay was about to flower, and so it was time to cut it. Hay harvest was one of Wes’ favorite times on the ranch. After his cup of black coffee, and giving Mama and Carrie a kiss, he headed out to the fields.
Riding high on the mower, Wes looked over his fields and took in the scent of the fresh hay as he cut the acres. As always, Carrie was on his mind as he went back and forth creating neat rows. When he was finished, Wes left the freshly cut hay to dry, praying for clear weather.
Three days after it was mowed, it was time for the hay to be windrowed, or raked into rows. Wes brought Carrie out to the field and boosted her up onto the tractor. He had attached a side delivery rake which would sweep the stalks into neat columns with leaves turned inward and stems outward so the hay would dry evenly.
Wes hopped up behind Carrie on the tractor, tugging one of her braids lightly. “Okay, Carrie girl. It’s time you learned how to rake properly.”
“Oh, but Wes, I don’t think I can. It looks so hard.”
“All it takes is a steady hand, we’ve seen that yours was the steadiest of them all when you stitched Kevin up, the doctor said he couldn’t have done better himself. It goes quite fast once you get the hang of it.” Wes wrapped his arms around her and began steering. “You steer the tractor and use the rake to take two of the cut rows of hay to make a windrow.”
“Did you say a window?”
Wes chuckled. “Not a window, a windrow.” He took two mowed swaths and brought them together to form one windrow that was the right size for field curing. Once he completed a few rows, he placed her hands on the steering wheel. “All right, little bit,” he said, “have at it.”
“Wes, I just couldn’t. What if I mess up that beautiful hay?” Carrie exclaimed nervously.
“You’ll do just fine.”
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” Carrie took ahold of the wheel and to Wes’ amazement expertly raked the rows of hay into perfect windrows that just about put his to shame.
When she had completed a row, she asked, “Well, Daddy, how’d I do?”
He laughed a deep belly laugh. “All right, I suppose. It looks like you’ve brought in the hay yourself a time or two.”
Carrie turned in her seat and caught his eye, “What do you think we feed our horses in South Carolina? Biscuits and gravy?” With a wink, she turned around and set off for the next row.
All that day they windrowed the hay together, stopping only once for Ma’s cooking. She brought out cold brisket sandwiches with slaw, tea and generous slabs of leftover pie.
That evening during their nightly routine, Carrie lay in his arms in the guest bed, the patchwork quilt wrapped snugly around her, Wes counted the day as one of his favorites. Though, it seemed every day with Carrie was on the list, this one topped the others somehow. Having her on the ranch, a part of his daily routine had been more enjoyable. But now, having her partake in the chores they did annually, made him think of the future. There was no way Wes would be able to harvest hay without Carrie by his side next year. He allowed himself to fall asleep in the bed next to her, dreaming of the day he would ask her to become his wife.
It was time to bale the hay. Wes knew the hay was dry enough by placing his hand under the windrows and feeling it for dampness. He still performed the time-honored tradition that his father had taught him. Taking some wisps of the hay and putting them in a small box with two teaspoons of table salt, Wes shook the box for one minute. When he checked inside, the salt was still dry. And so, it was time to bale the hay.
The ranch had a small hay baler, and Wes’ family always used twine to tie the bales. It was a slow process, and Wes had many hours alone among the dry sweet hay, working in the sunshine, and daydreaming about the future he and Carrie would have on this very land.
Most afternoons, since the strapping, Carrie preferred to stay out of trouble and instead spend time in the house with Mama. She had gotten word from home that her cousin was having a baby girl. Carrie had insisted that Mama teach her how to make a quilt, like the one she slept under every night. She sat in the living room in Mama’s rocking chair, making tiny
stitches. She would hand stitch four square pieces together, making a quilt block. Then she would put that one down, pick out four more squares of fabric, and begin again.
The quiet sewing hours gave Carrie time to think, and she wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. When her cousin told her about the baby, something had moved within Carrie. It was a queer feeling, an unsettling feeling that she couldn’t name. It felt a bit like jealousy, but also an emptiness, as well as a draw towards something, but what she didn’t know.
She knew she wasn’t ready to have children, not even close. Her and Wes hadn’t talked about marriage, much less starting a family. They told each other stories of their pasts, anecdotes about themselves, but the conversation never turned to what their future may hold.
And there was no chance of her becoming pregnant. After the bath Wes had given her, the memory still making her skin tingle, Wes had barely touched her. As for the day in the meadow, when she had run from his truck, then given him her decision to be his girl, their physical relationship had stopped progressing beyond kissing. He had told her that he didn’t want to sleep with her until she had made her decision, but the decision had been made and still, he remained pure with her. In truth, though they were in love, even a glance from his smoldering eyes could make her knees weak, the outward relationship looked more like a friendship.
As Carrie stitched the colorful fabric together, the queer feeling grew. She was so confused by it that she didn’t take note when the feeling began to turn to anger. The rocking chair moved faster under her, and her neat stitches become sloppy as her agitation blossomed.
After finishing another quilt block, only to hold it up to be disappointed by its crookedness, Carrie could take no more. She threw the quilt block down in her sewing basket and sprang up from the rocker. The empty chair went back and forth a few more times before it stilled. Carrie put on her cowgirl boots and clomped off to find Wes.
His back was towards her, and the sight of his broad shoulders under the taut fabric of his flannel shirt almost cooled her anger. But she had made up her mind to give him a piece of it, and so she would. She stomped up to the tractor and yelled above the noise of its engine, “Weston, you get down here right now!” She had learned his full name from his mama and had been saving it up to use it at such a time like this.
Surprise crossed Wes’ face. He smiled at the sight of her and killed the engine. Wes hopped down from the tractor. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “But talk to me like that again, and you will have a sore bottom to match my sore eyes, make no mistake.”
Carrie felt her face flush at his threat. Her anger diminished, somewhat. So, he wasn’t going to sleep with her, but he would still spank her?
“What’s up, buttercup?” Wes took a long drink from the canteen he had slung over the tractor that morning.
“I, I,” Carrie stuttered. “My cousin is having a baby.”
Wes stood among the plowed fields, baffled. “I know. You told me. Isn’t that who the quilt you are sewing is for?”
Carrie’s reply was to burst into tears.
Wes quickly wrapped his arms around her, saying, “What’s the matter, baby girl?” Carrie dried her tears on the hem of her now, favorite skirt. Wes’ trick with the milk had worked, and it was as good as new. Carrie wore it often as her Daddy had deemed the tight clothing that she had brought to the ranch to be ‘spanking material.’ The few times she came out of the guest room trying to dress sexy, he would raise his eyebrows at her and say, “Go and change, young lady. That’s ‘spanking material’ you’re wearing.” The soft fabric of the skirt calmed her, and she continued to use it to dab at her tears as Wes said, “Carrie, do you want a baby? Is that what this is about?”
“No,” she sniffled, “of course not. I just, I just…” she started to cry again.
“What?” he whispered softly, rubbing her back gently.
“I don’t know what I want.”
“Oh.”
“I’ve been here nearly all summer, and you treat me like you would a friend. I have no idea what we are, or where I stand, or what the future holds for us. And my quilt block got all crookedy.”
Wes laughed softly.
“Why are you laughing? It’s not funny.” She shoved him in the chest. “And it’s all your fault about the quilt block. You should have to be the one to take the stitches out.”
Wes wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Let’s go inside and get some tea. I’ll sit beside you while you take your stitches out and we can talk.”
They sat side by side on the rocking chairs on the porch. Wes talked while Carrie worked. He told her about how he wanted to take things slowly, that she was his special girl and he didn’t want to rush anything. Wes assured her that she was his future, that he couldn’t see past today without imagining her beside him. When she was done taking the stitches out, he was done talking. He gave her a chaste kiss and went back to the fields. Carrie felt better, mostly, but the queer feeling was still hiding inside of her as she watched Wes make his way to the tractor.
Wes was in town, by himself. It was strange not to have Carrie by his side, she usually loved a trip to town and insisted that he buy her a strawberry milkshake from the Burger Barn as well as fries to dip in it. Carrie had been quiet the last few days since their talk and Wes had a hard time getting her to tell him what was on her mind.
Stumbling into the Post Office, Wes almost knocked over Postmaster Glenn, his mind on Carrie’s strange behavior. After apologizing and collecting his mail, Wes answered the myriad of questions from the curious man.
“Now where is that sweet gal of yours? I swear this post office just lights up when she walks in here. You by yourself just doesn’t have the same effect, no offense.”
“None was taken.” Wes chuckled. “She’s back at the ranch.”
Glenn handed Wes a sheet of stamps. “She’ll be needing these. Buys them every week to send her letters home by.”
Wes pulled out his wallet to pay the man. Glenn shook a hand at him in refusal. “They are on me. Letter writing is a lost art, and I’d be happy to provide her the means to carry her words across the country.”
“That’s a mighty sweet gesture. I’ll tell Carrie.”
“Now you take that woman out for a nice meal. Womenfolk get to brooding if you leave them on the ranch too long. Take her to Clinton and get her a good steak. She’s worth it. Sweet as they come.”
Wes smiled. “I’ll be sure to do that.” Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe Carrie just needed to get off the ranch, and he could get her talking and find out what was on her mind.
Carrie brightened at the idea of going to Clinton and eating at the same restaurant where they had their first dinner out together. She got all dressed up and was looking like a beauty when he buckled her into his truck.
They chatted amiably on the drive, Wes mostly filling Carrie in on the wheat crop. A few times he would ask her “Are you all right,” or “Everything okay?” and she would reassure him that she was fine, but something still felt off to Wes.
Just as the couple settled into the cozy booth and were about to pick up their menus, a woman named Melody, a teacher at the Poke school, came bounding over to their table.
“Hey, Wes. Long time no see, cowboy. I hear congratulations are in order.”
“On what?”
“Garrett and Jess’ upcoming nuptials, of course. I’m sure you’ve heard, being his brother and all.” Melody laughed a high pitched nasal laugh. “I always knew those two would end up together at some point. Just cut from the same cloth, wouldn’t you say. And who’s this?”
“Melody, meet Carrie.”
“Carrie, oh Carrie.” Recognition set into her face. “Weren’t you engaged to Garrett, or was that a Karen? I’m confused.”
Wes quickly replied, “It’s a long story, but yes, Carrie and Garrett dated for a time but things settled the way they were intended, and now we are all happily
matched up I guess you could say.”
“Oh, well that’s…” the woman was obviously at a loss for words.
“Destiny. That’s destiny,” Wes answered for her.
Recovering from her shock, Melody continued her playful banter. “So, the famous bachelor has finally been tamed by a woman. Good for you, girl,” she slapped Carrie playfully on the shoulder, then left her hand resting on it. “We just thought this man was hopeless, destined to be alone up on that ranch living out his days with his mama.”
Carrie sat in a stony silence. “Get your hand off me.” Her voice sounded low and dangerous.
Melody blanched, removing her hand. Collecting herself quickly after Carrie’s surprising outburst, she said, “Look at me, yammering away, and y’all haven’t even ordered. I’ll let you get back to it.” With a flip of her hair, Melody bounced away. Wes knew she was bursting at the seams to spread the news, Wes and his brother had switched girls. Who stole who from whom was a topic to be speculated on by the entire town for months to come. And now, Melody could add to the gossip that Wes didn’t even know his brother was getting married, and that Carrie was a rude and feisty little thing.
“There was no call for that, Carrie. I should take you right over to her table and have you apologize. We were both taken off guard by that little gem of news, but that’s no excuse to be outright rude.”
Carrie’s eyes shot daggers at Wes. “She was just a nosy little biddy.” Her angry voice was raised and carried over the table, drawing stares.
“Lower your voice, young lady,” Wes said. The waiter cautiously approached their table.
“Uh, good evening,” he stated. “We have a lovely prime rib special tonight, accompanied by a side of…”
“Not hungry.” Carrie slammed her menu shut in front of her.
The waiter looked nervously to Wes. “Sir, will you be dining tonight?”
“Yes,” Wes said. “We both will be actually. Could you tell us a little more about that prime rib you mentioned?”
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