Page 2 of Awaiting the Storm
“Because I’m the only one who does any work around here,” I snap.
“Bullshit. We all work. You’re just an over-the-top micromanager, Sissy,” Shelby teases.
“I’m not over the top.”
Charli chokes and slaps herself on the chest as she reaches for her glass of tea.
Grandma appears behind them and smacks the table lightly with a wooden spoon. “Enough. Eat or starve, but quit squabbling,” she booms before taking her seat beside Grandpa.
That settles us quickly.
Harleigh, the baby of our family, isn’t here. Her empty chair sits at the far end of the table. She’s away at the University of Wyoming, pursuing a degree in business and hospitality management. I miss her terribly. We’re kindred spirits, although I’d never say that out loud. She’s the youngest of the Storm sisters, but she has an old soul.
Mom would be proud of her girls.
We eat in comfortable silence for a while. Grandma keeps the conversation light—weather, church news, a neighbor’s new baby—but underneath it all, I can feel the weight of the ranch pulsing like a heartbeat. Charli and Shelby don’t get it. Every day is a gamble, every month a prayer we make ends meet. Grandpa, Daddy, and I bear the burden. But this is what we do. It’s who we are.
After supper, us girls help Grandma with the dishes. It’s our routine. She washes; we dry and put them away.
“You’re dragging,” Grandma says to me without looking up. “Rough day?”
I nod. “Colt breach. Took both me and Cabe to wrangle him. Damn near tore my shoulder.”
Cabe is our cousin and one of the few employees we kept after last year’s incident.
She tsks. “You need to slow down, Matty. You don’t have to do everything yourself. That’s what we hire hands for.”
I smirk. “We’re short on those these days if you haven’t noticed, Grandma.”
As ranch manager, I oversee all daily operations, including staff management, animal care, land upkeep, equipment maintenance, and our financials. When we’re forced to lay off most of our staff, I also take on their work.
“You need to delegate to the ones you have left,” she says.
“Delegate is not in Matty’s vocabulary,” Charli quips.
“Well, it should be. A manager oversees; a dictator rules. You need to loosen the reins a little and let other people do their jobs,” Grandma mutters.
“I try.”
She leans over and nudges my shoulder with hers. “Try harder.”
Once the last dish is dried and put away, I grab a cup of coffee and step outside onto the back porch. The sky has turned a deep indigo, with stars twinkling through the darkness like jewels. I settle into the swing, feeling the warm cup between my hands, and allow the quiet to settle into my bones.
The ranch is still and peaceful, but it is far from silent. Crickets chirpin the grass, frogs sing by the riverbank, and an owl calls from the trees just beyond the barn. This land is alive and breathing. It’s always been like this—grounding me and holding me steady when everything else threatens to spin out of control.
I take a sip of coffee and close my eyes.
It has been twelve years since Mom passed away.
Twelve years since everything changed.
I had to grow up quickly. I helped Daddy keep things running while raising three sisters, even though I was still a kid myself. I guided them through their grief while trying to stave off my own. Some days, I think I did okay. Some days, I feel like I failed because the sisterly bond we’d once had was lost when I took on a parental role. Now that we are adults, I’m trying to rebuild that connection. They are all strong woman, and that makes me proud.
Charli is twenty-five now. She’s the sensitive one, intuitive, although she masks it with sarcasm. Like our mother, she has a special way with horses. A rare connection.
Shelby’s feisty and sharp-tongued, always ready to challenge me and anyone else who stands in her way. She is incredibly talented and has done everything from barrel racing to trick riding.
As for Harleigh, she’s the dreamer of the family, and she’s always had her head in the clouds.
