Page 14 of The Wedding Ranch
It hadn’t taken long for the other merchants on the block to smell the profits. They cleaned up their upper storage levels and turned them into apartments too. The income stream was helping the merchants, and bringing residents to Main Street was breathing new life into the town—an unexpected bonus.
Gladys slid a big plastic cup of sweet tea in front of Ryder. “You look like you’re in a mood today.” Her eyebrows rose, disappearing behind a heavy fringe of dark bangs, and her lips turned down into a frown full of judgment.
“Just distracted. Some Mill Creek Highlands driver about plowed into the side of my truck on my way over here.”
“It wouldn’t have bothered you half as much if it had happened somewhere else, right?”
He took off his ball cap and placed it on his knee. She was right, but he didn’t have to tell her that. “Thank you.” He slid the tea closer and took a sip.
“You never are going to forgive your folks for selling off that land, are you?” Her voice rattled from years of smoking.
“Probably not.” He pushed his hand through his hair, one lock defiantly drooping back over his brow. “I could think of better things to do with that hundred acres than build a neighborhood that would do nothing but bring city slickers to our town.”
“I’m sure you could have, but none of those things would have funded your parents’ golden years. They are living their dream. Traveling the country.” Gladys spread her arms out wide, and Ryder wondered if he was getting ready to hear a bellowing version of “America the Beautiful” out of her.
“I for one am living vicariously through them,” Gladys said. “Everyone around here is. Can’t hate them for that.”
If the constant barrage of postcards was any indication, his parents were having the time of their lives seeing America. “I don’t hate them. I’m just annoyed with the decision.”
He eyed her, hoping she’d give it a rest. He agreed with her. His parents did deserve to live the retired life of their dreams. It was just too bad he and his sister hadn’t been consulted prior to breaking up the family farm.
“Well, honey, unless you think you’re going to figure out how to turn back time that deal is done and there’s no changing it. You being sour about it isn’t hurtin’ anybody but you. Well, and those of us that have to put up with ya.”
Clearly, she counted herself in that group. “I hate change,” Ryder said.
“You always did. I remember when you were just six years—”
“Please don’t tell me a story. I know you mean well, and I love you for it, but I just need a moment.”
Gladys had been a waitress in this town for longer than the forty-some years he’d been alive. When the County Diner shut down she came to work for Joe. Rather than the screen-printed polo shirts he provided his employees, she still wore a dress with a white apron over it. She shouldn’t be pointing fingers at Ryder about disliking change.
“What can I get ya to eat then, Ryder?”
“BLT on whole wheat.”
“Notsourdough?” She pursed her lips, happy with herself over the pun.
He had to laugh too. “Whole wheat will be fine. Thank you. Sorry for my mood.”
“That’s better. You got it.” Gladys pressed an understanding hand to his shoulder before turning away and shouting his order into the kitchen like a drill sergeant.
Reflecting on this morning, it served him right to almost get in an accident being over there by that neighborhood. It was a longer drive the other way, but it kept him from having to face the continued changes on the property that had once been a part of their four-hundred-acre family farm. He and Pop-Pop had ridden those fences every week when he was a kid. Back then Pop-Pop owned it all. He had close to a thousand acres. He ran cattle, and used the rest for hay fields and seasonal crops. It was the multiple revenue streams that had kept the farm going for generations.
Dad wasn’t as interested in farming, and he’d split the land a few times after Pop-Pop passed away. Ryder still owned every square inch Pop-Pop had deeded him, and he’d never sell. He didn’t raise livestock, just a few feeder cattle to put in the freezer and keep the grass manageable between crop rotations, but he still rode the fence line on horseback out of respect to Pop-Pop’s memory. Every time he hit the break where the property had been sold off to build that neighborhood it turned Ryder’s gut.
Riding was his way to get right with God each morning. The daily reminder of losing that land humbled him. He worked hard to get the most out of the land he did have. Giving thanks kept him moving in the right direction.
The front door of the deli opened behind him. “Hey, Ryder.Good to see you, man.” Mark, another lifetime resident of Dalton Mill, made his way to the counter.
“Hey. Thought you were hauling NASCAR merch trailers this week.”
Mark took a seat next to Ryder. “Off this week. Next week we head up north.” He waved to Gladys across the way. “Hey, Gladys. Can I get a patty melt?”
“Sure thing.” Gladys scribbled on a ticket, and slapped it on the cook’s order wheel, giving it a spin before she shouted the order.
Mark tapped his hands on the Formica countertop. “Did you finish Diane’s breakfront? You’re running out of time.”
“You don’t have to tell me, but I’ll have it ready.” Ryder felt sorry for Mark. The guy had crushed on Diane since Mark and Ryder were in junior high. She was headed to college then. Mark moped for months when Diane got engaged. And when Diane’s husband left her, Mark could barely wait to ask her out. Unfortunately, Diane still thought of Mark as her younger brother’s irritating school buddy, and Ryder didn’t think that would ever change.
