Dalton

by Vivi Holt

  She’d wake early, go for a run, shower, then have breakfast while reading the news on her phone. After breakfast, rehearsal, followed by errands in the afternoon. She’d always practice on her own after that, then sometimes had a performance at night. Other nights were planned out well in advance: social events, book club, church, gym, even shopping trips scheduled, to ensure she didn’t waste any time or find herself with nothing to do. No wonder her roommate Jennifer Barsby complained she hardly ever saw her.

  Jen was the one unstructured thing in Hazel’s life. She was scattered, disorganized, spontaneous, loud – everything that Hazel wasn’t, but she loved her like a sister. They’d attended the University of Georgia together – Hazel majoring in music, while Jen studied veterinary science. Thrown together as roommates their freshman year, they’d never lived apart since. And though she hated to admit it, Hazel liked the loud, messy energy Jen brought into her otherwise tidy life.

  She pulled the car into the driveway of their small bungalow and shut off the engine with a frown. It was the middle of the day and Jen’s car was in the garage. It was unlike her friend to be home at this time of day. Jen worked five days a week at a quarter-horse ranch in Walton County, just outside of Atlanta. She headed inside, the kitchen door swinging shut behind her. “Jen! Jen, are you home?” she called.

  Her voice echoed through the quiet house. Jen usually cranked her favorite country tunes through a Bluetooth speaker when she was home, but the house was ominously still. Hazel leaned her violin against the wall of the study and dropped her shoulder bag in the kitchen.

  A moan from Jen’s room caught her attention and she ran down the hall. “Jen?”

  Her friend lay on the bed on her side in a fetal position. She moaned again.

  Hazel rushed to her, knelt next to the bed and laid a hand on Jen’s face. It was flushed, and a trickle of sweat ran down her temple. “You’re burning up,” said Hazel, running her hand over her friend’s damp hair. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” she whispered. “It hurts.”

  “We should get you to the doctor, sweetie.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I might just take some Tylenol.”

  Hazel frowned. “I know you don’t like going to the doctor, Jen. But I’m afraid you have to this time.”

  “No, I… ughhhh!” She moaned and rolled back and forth, her face contorted in pain.

  “Okay, come on, stand up. You can lean on my shoulder.” Hazel tried to help her to her feet.

  Jen fell back onto the bed with a cry. “I can’t!”

  Hazel stood for a moment, her hands on her hips, watching her friend. What should she do? Then Jen moaned again, and she knew she’d have to call an ambulance.

  Chapter 2

  With one hand shielding his eyes from the blazing Georgia sun, Dalton stared at the lopsided wooden sign that hung from two tall posts on either side of a broken-down gate. The sign read Cotton Tree Ranch in faded lettering.

  With a frown, he kicked a two-by-four that lay in the middle of the road out of the way, then strode back to his blue pickup idling in the driveway. He still favored his left leg, which had been broken in two places. But it’d healed well, according to his doctor. Even though the cast had been removed weeks ago, a slight twinge every now and then reminded him of the accident.

  Releasing the brake, he pressed down on the gas slowly and drove through the open gate and along the rambling dirt drive to a long, dilapidated single-level ranch house. It squatted in the middle of a green pasture, all peeling paint, broken porch rails and grease-covered windows. It looked like a lot of work and not much else. He parked and got out of the truck, careful to keep the foot of his injured leg from hitting the ground too hard.

  He considered the phone call from Grandpa Joe’s lawyer, Mr. Sanderson. The man had informed him he was to inherit part of Pa’s estate, and his heart had pounded in anticipation. What would it be – money? Property? Debt? He’d known his grandfather was an entrepreneur, but didn’t know much about the specifics of his investments. The old man didn’t talk about it and Dalton never felt the need to pry. They were much more likely to discuss baseball scores, or which quarterback was expected to go first in the draft.

  He turned slowly to look at the pickup, his belongings stacked in the back beside his Ducati motorcycle, then scratched his stubbled chin and scanned the property. Acres of overgrown pastures, rickety fencing and weeds greeted his eyes. A rundown barn and a set of stables stood – just barely, it seemed – fifty yards from the house. A chicken coop, long since vacated, jutted from one side of the barn.

  He wandered over to take a closer look and discovered an old tractor parked beneath a shelter. The barn was well stocked with tools, saddlery and farm equipment, though much of it was mildewed or rusted. A black cat meandered out to greet him, its tail held high, eyes half closed. It appeared to be well fed, probably due to a ready supply of mice.

  He continued out to the pasture and draped his arms over the top fence paling. A small herd of horses grazed in the distance. Mr. Sanderson had told him about the herd. Apparently the property had been a working ranch years earlier, but the manager his grandfather hired had bled the place dry and let it fall into ruin during Pa’s final years, when he hadn’t the energy to check on it.

  A buzz in his pocket made him start. He pulled out his cell, checked the caller and pressed it to his ear. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hello, honey. Are you there yet?”

  “Yep,” he sighed.

  “What’s it like?”

  “It’s a beautiful property, that’s for sure. Big too. But it’ll need a lot of work.” He absentmindedly scuffed the dirt beneath the fence with the toe of his boot.

  “Well, I know you can do it. You can do anything you put your mind to. You’ve always been able to do that.” His mother’s voice was calm, but he could hear the worry in her bright tone.

  “It’s only a year, right? The lawyer said I’ve got to stay here a year, and then I’ll inherit the whole thing. Otherwise, it reverts to Nana Dixie.” Silence on the other end of the line. “Mom?”

  “I can’t believe Pa did that. I mean, really, couldn’t he just have sold the place and given you the money? Now you’re all the way out in rural Georgia on your own. I worry about you.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’m glad he didn’t sell it – it’s really a spectacular piece of land, and I’ll bet he thought so too. He believed in me and I want to make him proud. Anyway, what else would I do with myself? I can’t go back to the rodeo circuit – the doctor said another fall could mean permanent damage to my leg, and my shoulder aches all the time. If Pa hadn’t left me this place, I don’t know what I would have done.”

  She sighed loudly. “That’s true, I suppose … I just don’t want you doing something you’ll hate. I want you to be happy. Preferably up here in Chattanooga with me.” She chuckled.

  He laughed along with her. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But I really think I could be happy here. I love working the land and I’ve always wanted to breed horses. I think I’ll turn it back into a horse ranch – stock horses, like it used to be.” He hadn’t given it much thought until that moment, but standing there as his eyes roved the property in the afternoon sun, the words just poured from his mouth. And as he said them, he felt their truth. Owning a stud farm had always been his dream, one he’d never thought would happen. But now … maybe this was his chance.

  “You know, Nana Dixie’s grandparents, Della and Clement White, moved down from Montana to Georgia when Clem’s health deteriorated. I remember Mom, your Nana Dixie, saying they built a ranch in south Georgia, and when they died they left it to Pa in their will since their only son, your great-grandpa Stan, had already passed on. So when you think of it, that ranch is a family heirloom of sorts. It really would be a shame if it had to be sold, and that’s probably what Nana Dixie would do with it – she certainly couldn’t run it herself.”

  He pondered
her words as he watched a bay mare nip at the hindquarters of a chestnut colt, sending it running. He smiled. “A family heirloom, huh?” He turned, rested his back against the fence and studied the ranch house. “Well, it doesn’t look as if the house is original – they must have rebuilt this place in the 1970s or something. It’s rundown, but it’s not that old.”

  “I hope you don’t work yourself too hard, my boy. And call me if you need anything, okay?”

  He grinned. She was always taking care of him. He wanted to show her he could do this. When he invited her down for a visit, he wanted to surprise her with how well he was doing. “I won’t, Mom. I’ll call you soon. Love you. Bye.” He hung, rested one heel on the lowest rail of the fence and breathed the fresh country air deep into his lungs.

  If he was to turn this place into a horse ranch, the first thing he’d need to do was to buy a breeding stallion with good bloodlines. He’d saved a decent nest egg from his years on the rodeo circuit – he’d likely have to sink every cent into this place before things turned around. But a stallion was a necessity, one he couldn’t forgo. If he found one with an impeccable pedigree, he could start letting him stand at stud for a sizable fee, bringing mares from all over the South to be covered. And while he waited for his own foals from the grazing herd to arrive next spring, he’d use his remaining funds to fix the place up.

  Long shadows clung to the house and barn, throwing the grasses beyond into darkness. The sun would set soon. He’d better get inside, unpack and assess the damage before it got too dark. He pressed his Stetson more firmly onto his head and returned to the truck. He reached inside for his backpack, shoved the door closed and headed for the house.

  With a few quick steps, he climbed the stairs, then stopped to pull the keys from his pocket. Mr. Sanderson had given them to him right before Dalton left for Georgia, with a warning that he should be prepared to find the place in disarray. That was putting it mildly, he thought with a snort.

  The key ring was full, and he flicked through them, looking for the one that fit the front door. Before long he found it and tried it in the lock. When the door swung open, he glanced cautiously inside before stepping through. A musty smell hit him full in the face, and he covered his nose and mouth with one hand and winced.

  He blinked a few times in the darkness of the entryway, then let his backpack slip to the ground and shut the door behind him. The first thing to do was open the drapes and windows and let some fresh air in. He hurried to do it, and the sunlight that drifted through the windows illuminated millions of dust particles floating through the air around him.

  A search of the kitchen revealed a bucket and some expired cleaning supplies. He found a pair of rubber gloves, still unopened in their packet, and pulled them on, then filled the bucket with soap and water and began cleaning the place. The water was cold, since he hadn’t thought to get the electricity turned on before he arrived. That was next on his to-do list – which was growing longer by the moment.

  A few hours later, the kitchen was passably clean, along with the bathroom and bedroom, the three rooms he figured he’d be using most. By then it was too dark to do any more, and he’d had about all he could take after the long drive from Tennessee. He called for a pizza, grateful to be near enough to the town of Tifton that he could get delivery – and use his phone.

  He slumped onto a faded brown leather couch in the living room, with a freshly washed glass filled with lukewarm water, to make some calls. After talking to the electricity company, internet service provider and cable company, he pulled up the Notes app on his phone and considered what to do with his newly acquired ranch. There was so much work to be done if he was to make it a fully functional business, but what should he prioritize? He tapped at the phone, building a list of tasks to get things started.

  He’d eyeballed the small herd of brood mares grazing comfortably in the pasture. They looked to be in fine health, with shining if somewhat shaggy coats and plump sides. The more he thought about it, the more certain he was that he should continue the property’s breeding tradition. He’d grown up on a horse ranch and knew the ins and outs of running a breeding program. He’d ridden stock horses since he could walk and loved the breed. They were a noble, beautiful, intelligent and highly trainable horse. It made sense.

  He smiled and leaned back on the sofa, his hands linked behind his head and his thoughts spinning. Yes, that was it. Cotton Tree Ranch would become one of the premier stock farms in the country under his leadership.

  The sound of a car on the drive made him jump to his feet and fish his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans. The pizza delivery boy looked to be around sixteen, his spiked hair stood on end with razor-short back and sides. He pushed spectacles up his pimpled nose and held out his hand for the cash that Dalton quickly handed over. When he closed the door, the smell of baked dough and cheese filled his nostrils. His stomach growled as he carried the pizza to the newly-cleaned kitchen table.

  Through the kitchen windows he spied the stars coming out, and lit a candle he’d found in a closet. There was something so appealing about this place, something earthy, homey and real. Just the thought of what it could become set his blood racing. If he failed, it wouldn’t be for lack of trying.

  Satisfied with his plan, he opened the pizza box and sat down with a sigh. He pulled a slice out and watched the cheese stretch, still warm, from one end. And for the first time in months, he felt a buzz of excitement and anticipation well up from deep within.

  * * *

  Hazel’s footsteps echoed loudly in the still morning air. They pounded against the pavement as she ran, a steady rhythmic beat she couldn’t help matching to the music in her earbuds.

  She’d left Jen at the hospital the previous evening after an emergency appendectomy. According to the medical team, she’d be fine, and was sleeping soundly when Hazel left. She’d certainly given Hazel a scare.

  She stopped and bent forward, leaning her hands on her knees and puffing. She always pushed herself harder toward the end of a run – it gave her a rush of adrenaline and a sense of satisfaction to take herself to the limit of her ability. With a deep inhale, she stood straight and squared her shoulders, stretching one arm above the other.

  A man with a large white dog on a red leash stopped beside her and smiled, then focused on his FitBit, pressing buttons with a furrowed brow. The dog pushed its wet nose against her leg, then gazed up at her with its mouth agape, its long pink tongue lolling out one side of its mouth.

  Her lips pursed, she stepped aside, mouthing, “sorry, I’m allergic” to the man who raised an eyebrow at her. She wasn’t really allergic, but why couldn’t people keep their animals under control? Now she had a sticky patch of dog slobber on her leg. Really, was it too much to ask that she not be drooled on in the park?

  Her cell phone buzzed. She unclipped it from the clear holder strapped around her arm and swiped her finger across the screen. “Hello?”

  “Hazel, it’s Jen.”

  “Jen! How are you? Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

  “I was sleeping. But my boss just called. He needs me to do a job for him.”

  Hazel frowned. “Didn’t you tell him you’re in hospital?”

  Jen groaned. “I couldn’t. He was all stressed and in a hurry – he didn’t give me a chance to say anything, really. I’ve just started working there and you know I really need this job. I can’t afford to lose another one.”

  With a huff, Hazel leaned forward to touch her toes, letting the tension ease from her shoulders and neck as she tipped her head from side to side. “Well, you can’t go to work – you’ve just come out of surgery. You’ll have to call him back.”

  “It’s just that …”

  “What?” Hazel’s eyes narrowed. She recognized the tone in Jen’s voice, and it made her nervous.

  “Well, it’s a really easy job – accompanying a breeding mare down to a ranch outside of Tifton in south Georgia. There’s a stallion there for her to frolic
with. Really, it’s nothing but riding in a truck, waiting around for her to do her business and riding back again. Easy.”

  Hazel’s heart thumped. “Why are you telling me this? You’re not suggesting I go, are you?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask, and I wouldn’t even think about asking if it wasn’t important. But I reeeeally don’t want to lose this job, and you’re on vacation now, aren’t you? So it would be like taking a road trip. And there’s nothing for you to do, because there’ll be a driver for the trailer and the rancher will take care of things at their end. You’re really just … horse-sitting.”

  “You can’t be serious,” fumed Hazel. “A road trip? To a ranch, with horses and mud and who knows what else? And how long would it take, anyway? I’m planning on going to Jekyll Island for a few days, and my mom will kill me if I back out now.”

  She could hear Jen’s victorious smile through the phone line. “Oh, a day or two at most. You’ll be back in plenty of time to visit your folks. Thank you so much, Hazel! I owe you, really. Anything you need, you just ask me.”

  Hazel sighed and squinted up at the fluffy clouds floating by. “Really? Anything I ask? How about this – don’t make me spend my vacation at a stinky ranch in south Georgia.”

  Jen laughed. “Thanks, Hazel. I’ll text you the details, but I have to go now. My doctor’s just come in to give me an update. Really, you’re a life saver, I mean it – you’re the best friend a girl could ask for. Bye!” The phone line went dead.

  Hazel stared at the screen in disbelief. What had just happened? How had she agreed to horse-sit for a big-time horse breeder? Likely the mare was valuable – what if something went wrong? She didn’t know the first thing about horses. What a disaster!

  She couldn’t understand why Jen just didn’t tell her boss the truth. There was no way he’d fire her for a burst appendix – it was completely out of her control. But that was Jen all over – always making everything far more difficult than it had to be. And usually ending up in a big mess as a result.