Made damn sure I didn’t go running to any of the workers for help too since I hardly got the chance to know them. Not until I was older and a few of them taught me how to ride bulls and got me involved with some of the travelling rodeos. By then, though, I’d come to the realisation no one would ever help me.
As I try and psyche myself up for the physiotherapy session I have later today, I notice a figure heading towards me. I half-expect it to be Bertha coming to encourage me down to the mess hall for some food, but it’s Beau Hensley, the foreman at Lucky Star, and my best friend Wyatt’s dad. Beau’s worked for my dad since I can remember and has been running the place ever since he died.
‘Sawyer,’ he calls out to me, tipping his cowboy hat up in greeting when he reaches the bottom of the stairs. Trixie runs to him, lapping up as many head scratches as she can.
‘Old man.’ I raise my mug of coffee at him.
Beau climbs the stairs with Trixie and settles into the seat next to me with an audible sigh that I know means he’s not about to spend a few pointless minutes exchanging niceties. Beau’s always been business first.
‘Son, it’s time to really start doing somethin’ about this place. I know you and your dad had a lot of shit to sort out between the two of you that ain’t my business.’
I clamp my teeth together, holding in the need to bite back and tell him that it’s that kind of attitude that let years of my dad’s abuse go under the radar. Too many of the town turning blind eyes. Still, I appreciate that he’s not telling me off for not attending the funeral or whatever the rest of the town likes to say.
‘But the fact of the matter is that Jack’s dead and he ain’t coming back to run Lucky Star.’ There’s little emotion in Beau’s voice.
I’ve never quite understood his relationship with my dad—they were friends, I think, but only at work. Jack Nash was a womanizer, gambler, and hot-headed alcoholic, but Willow Ridge always needed him and Lucky Star Ranch. The prosperity the ranch brought to the town let a lot of his behaviour slide, though I’m sure he had plenty of silent enemies, even if they pretended to respect him.
‘It belongs to you now, and you need to start thinking about what you’re gonna do, before you let it run into the ground.’
Uncomfortable, I shift in my seat. ‘I’ll sell it. You want it?’
Beau removes his hat with a chuckle, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. ‘You think I’d still be working here if I had the money for that?’
I shrug. ‘You can have it for free.’
‘Sawyer.’ He levels a look at me, his thick moustache twitching. ‘I’m planning on retiring in the next couple of years. If you wanna sell the place, sell it. But find someone who’ll care. Too many people rely on Lucky Star for it to be just given to anyone, including Wyatt and Rory—they need this land for their cattle to graze on during the summer.’
Would it be a greatfuck youto the father who barely raised me to let his business burn to the ground? Sure. But the mention of my best friend and his fiancée suffering sours the sweet revenge. Plus, amongst the dark memories growing up here, it is where I first learnt to ride bulls.
Beau continues, ‘Or maybe you wanna keep it so you can raise some kids here yourself one day—’
‘Yeah, that’s not for me, Beau,’ I interject without hesitation.
‘Regardless, use this time while you’re down to learn how it all works. Get involved. And quit moping about in your underwear.’
‘Alright, alright,’ I say, holding my hands up, just about done with being told what to do and what to wear in my own house. Getting pants over my cast is hard, goddammit.
Slapping his thighs first, Beau pushes up out of the chair. Shadows cast over his face as he dons his hat again, readyto continue working on the land. ‘How long you out of bull riding for?’
‘Five more months, sir.’ I give him an overly animated thumbs up, sarcasm drowning my fake excitement.
For a second, he just nods, contemplating. ‘Y’know, my wife has always had this saying when times get tough—that all flowers grow out of the darkness first. That they start buried deep in the dirt, no light or nothing. I know you gotta lot of dark memories here, Sawyer.’ Beau doesn’t look at me as descends the steps slowly, before adding on when his feet hit the ground, ‘But I bet you could grow a hell of a lot of flowers in them in five months.’
I watch him as he walks off back to work on the ranch, considering his words. While growing up on this ranch left me with plenty of dark memories, those aren’t the ones that have been keeping me up at night for the past month.
If I’m stuck in this town, I guess I might as well make something of it. So, I whip out my phone, and shoot a text off to Wolfman, hoping to gather some information to plant the first seed.
Sawyer:Hey, what kind of car does Honey drive?
6
Honey
I breathe in the crisp late September air as I walk out of Willow Ridge High after a busy day, excited by the prospect of the sidewalks soon being lined with flaky amber leaves and to start getting all my cosy sweaters out of the closet. Summer in Willow Ridge is beautiful, but when the fall hits, that was always when some of the most magical scenes in the small town appeared—the ones I’ve missed the most.
Students mill about outside the school building, huddled in groups as laughter and gossip are bounced around. I make my way to the parking lot, exchanging smiles with any of the students I’ve met so far since the semester started a few weeks ago. Though, there’s too many of their names I can’t remember off the top of my head just yet.
I worked as a high school librarian at my last job in North Carolina since I graduated, helping to foster the love of reading every child deserves to experience. Even though I went to Willow Ridge High myself, a lot has changed—for the better, thankfully, including a greater selection of books—so there’s plenty to learn. But I have a good feeling about it. It feels strangely right to be back in these halls, and even if it’s just by offering students a quiet space in the library to read and write andescape—like I once needed—hopefully I can make the difference I wish someone had for me in high school.