Page 47 of The Wedding Ranch
“My life is full enough.”
She’d been clear she wasn’t looking for a relationship. They had that in common. Maybe that’s why it seemed okay to contact her.
Then again, if you have to explain what you’re up to, it’s not worth doing.
Now that Diane knew he’d gotten her phone number it would be like pulling a dog off a freshly smoked brisket to get her to drop it.
He walked back outside, agitated with himself, every muscle fiber twitching. It wasn’t a good day for sitting a tractor, with nothing but time for thinking.
Ryder went out to the barn, grabbed a pitchfork, and started clearing stalls. The rigorous routine released some of the pent-up energy, but by the time his mind cleared, he’d completely cleaned out two of the stalls down to the mats, something he hadn’t planned to do until next month when the weather was more tolerable.
It was dark and he was tired and thirsty when he got back up to the house. He didn’t even have the energy to make something to eat. Instead, he grabbed a bag of peanuts and sat in front of the television shelling them into the basket Reece had made forhim for his birthday a few years ago. She’d taken some kind of grass-weaving class in college. There were two compartments in the basket, one for peanuts and one for shells. She’d even burned the farm brand on the wide band around the top.
He munched on peanuts until after the weather report. It would be another hot one tomorrow but clear for the next few days, thankfully.
Ryder slept in until seven Saturday morning, then saddled up Thunder and rode the fence line. The color of a storm cloud, the gray horse moved at an even pace up and down the hilly terrain. The sun rose above the trees, promising another steamy day. Thunder blew out a breath as he took their usual path up the hill that led to the old tobacco barns. The piece of the property that used to adjoin Dad’s.
Pop-Pop, why can’t I let this go? I know I can’t change that Dad sold that parcel, but I feel like he gave away a part of our history with it.
Ryder closed his eyes; Pop-Pop’s gentle blue eyes were so clear in his mind. He’d ride with his weathered hand resting on his Wranglers, much like Ryder rode now.
Ryder patted his hand on the saddle horn, wishing he could turn back time to the days Pop-Pop was around and they talked about everything from the crops and soil preparation to family and fellowship. There was nothing he couldn’t talk about with Pop-Pop. Momma had always said Ryder was more like her than he was like Dad. Maybe that’s why he’d always been closer to Pop-Pop.
Ryder regretted not having more time to make good on hispromise to be a good father to his son. Four years was barely a start.
The morning of the accident had started out so good. He’d helped Pop-Pop into his saddle, and they rode the fence line together. He didn’t get around good much anymore, but once Ryder got him in the saddle he’d ride for hours. They’d ride side by side and Pop-Pop never rushed a day.
They’d been almost right where Ryder was now when that call came.Thank God you were here. I’m a better man because of you, Pop-Pop.
Valerie and Ronnie Dwayne had planned to be home that Sunday morning in time for them to go to church together. With the weather forecast forcing him to bring in the hay, he’d been unable to drive them as he’d planned. That was one thing about crop farming, sometimes you had to shift your schedule due to Mother Nature, else risk losing the opportunity. Those hay bales meant payday, and it couldn’t be avoided.
Valerie didn’t want to reschedule their monthly visit, so she and Ronnie Dwayne headed off to visit sweet Miss Agnes, who used to be their neighbor in Dalton Mill, that Saturday while he was working in the field. He’d worked all day and under the light of the moon and the tractor lights until he got everything in that night. He’d missed their call, but they’d left him a message of “I love you”s and evening prayers. He still had that message on his phone.
Sunday morning he’d been saying to Pop-Pop that his boy should be here in the saddle with him this morning when the phone rang.
He’d never forget the cadence of the state trooper’s voice that day.
Who would be calling this time of the morning? He didn’t recognize the phone number. “Sorry, Pop-Pop. I better take this.” He answered the call. “Ryder here.”
“This is North Carolina state trooper Ellis. I have you as the emergency number for Valerie Bolt.”
“Yes. That’s right.” His heart raced—every nerve ending itching in wonder.
“I’m sorry, sir. There’s been an accident.”
Pop-Pop sensed something was wrong. His hand came across the horn on his saddle to reach for his arm. “What’s wrong, Ryder?”
Ryder shook his head. “Are they okay?” Ryder prayed for help. “Where are they?”
“I’m sorry. It’s not good. We’ve airlifted your son to Duke.”
“I’m on my way.” He’d hung up, unwilling to waste one more second. He had to get to his family. He’d spun Thunder in a tight circle and galloped all the way to the barn. Pop-Pop followed and was right there beside him when he stopped to dismount.
Blind with concern, he turned to see Pop-Pop sliding off of his own horse. He rushed to steady his landing. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken off like that. It’s Valerie and Ronnie Dwayne. There’s been an accident.”
“No. You go. I’m fine.” His grandfather pressed his palms together. “You’ve got to believe it will be okay, Ryder. Have faith. Pray, and drive careful.”
“I will.”
