Years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute. - Edgar Allen Poe
Chapter Song - R U Mine? by Arctic Monkeys
"Your damn saddle is twisted," I tell Hunter. "I got one arm, what are you doin'?"
He flips me off. "My fuckin' saddle is fine."
"Shut up, girls. I wanna get out of this sun as soon as possible." Ford chimes in. "Why does your dad send us to do the furthest jobs on the ranch? He's got others do that." He adds.
"Cause I don't wanna hear your damn whining," dad quips as he spawns from up behind us. "Now, get up to the main house and take a break. You three can clean the shit outta the stables after." He says.
"What?!" Ford exclaims.
Dad chuckles. "If you three whined less, I'd give you three less to whine about." He comments, before he rides off faster towards the West lands of our property.
"Damn, I hate smelling like shit." Hunter mutters.
"You always smell like shit." Ford quips. I laugh, as Hunter pushes him off his horse. "Fuck you!" He grumbles from the ground.
"You should be grateful, you can't smell me from down there." Hunter quips.
Ford rolls his eyes, dusting himself off before hauling back onto his horse. "Dude, I can still smell you from interstate." He laughs, riding off ahead before Hunter can nudge him off his horse again.
I laugh, following with Ford as Hunter catches up behind me. We make it to the stables, putting the horses away, hanging up our saddles, before walking up to the main house for a break.
"Hot out?" Bailey asks when we walk in, sat on the floor in the lounge room, papers scattered around on the coffee table.
"Yeah," I answer, Hunter and Ford disappearing into the kitchen. "What are you doing?"
"Taxes." She says - yeah, just taxes.
"Right," I drawls. "Why? Doesn't Ma handle the ranch finances?"
She sighs. "You know how the heat gets to her sometimes. She's upstairs taking a rest. And I'm good at math, so she just needed some help with a few things."
I nod. "Have fun with that."
"I'm jumping from fun and excitement." She drolls.
I shake my head, amused, before heading into the kitchen. Ford and Hunter are already ransacking whatever lunch has been made on the kitchen counter. Looking like some sandwiches, bits of meat, fruit, and cookies April probably made.
"I'll meet you two back out on the porch," I tell the guys as I grab a small plate and fill up a cup of water. "Don't eat the kitchen." I warn, before heading out.
YOU ARE READING
Under The Texas Sun
RomanceIn the wake of her father's death, Spencer Edwards' mother packs up their lives from Oxford, England, and moves them to the middle-of-nowhere Texas. With an agitation for agriculture, and a distaste for anything farming, the small town of Cherry Spr...