Country Girl at Heart

Chapter 2

An unfamiliar light streams across my face as I slowly wake. Sitting up, I realize I didn't fall asleep in my own bed last night. The weight of the upcoming day is already crushing me. I need to call Mom because there is no way I can sleep another night on this thing. My spine literally cracks in a million places before the kink is out of my back.
     "Knock, knock!" The door opens wide. In comes Becky's unnaturally happy attitude. "Hope I'm not interruptin'?"
     That's exactly what you're doing, Becky.
     "It's fine." I draw the covers over my body, feeling exposed. I'm not used to being checked on.
     "I wanted'ta let ya know, breakfast will be ready in ten! Come down and help, will ya?"
     I tell her I'll be down soon, getting dressed within a few minutes. Since I'll be on a freaking ranch all day I don't really care about my outfit. Not that plaid shorts, a Barnie's blouse and booties have any business being out there, but this is all I have.
     "For you!" Becky hands me a woven basket as I stroll into the kitchen, smelling bacon. She notices my quizzical look, then laughs. "It's for the eggs. Chicken coupe is 'round back. You can find Alabama there." She winks before continuing on with whatever she was doing.
     I approach Ali with caution, not really sure what to say as I stand at the entrance of the coupe, feeling more out of place than ever.
     "Mornin'," she greets me.
     "Hey."
     "You've never had to do this before, have you?" Her accent isn't as bad as Becky's and Wren's, making it easier for me to recognize her sarcasm. Sounding as if she has something better to be doing, she fills me in on the morning routine and how it works. "My mama and Wren insist chores will teach me how to be a better person or whatever."
     "You mean you don't actually enjoy doing this?" I charge my own sarcasm, hitting her back.
     "Are you kiddin'? I hate havin' to do this shit."
     I'm surprised at her choice of words. "Do they make you do this every morning?"
     "Mostly. Except for the weekends. They give me that off to do whatever the hell I want."
     "Do you eat dinner together every night, too?"
     "Every night." She stops to give me an annoyed look that makes me grin.
     I may be able to get along with her after all.
     "So. You really deal drugs?"
     My heart bursts to my throat. "Who told you that?"
     "Word gets 'round."
Great. I wonder how many other people know. "No. I don't deal drugs. I don't use either." I clear that up before she starts getting more curious.
     "Hm." Her judgmental gaze looks me up and down in a way I don't like.
    Okay, maybe we won't be able to get along.
     Breakfast turns out to be the three of us since Wren is apparently already out working. Which means more awkward moments, questions about New York, and weird looks from Ali.
     While they clean up and do the dishes, I step around the corner to call my mom.
     "How's my girl?" She answers on the second ring. I'm surprised she didn't think I was a client again.
     "Getting worse," I mumble low so they can't hear.
     "Good." She seems distracted, talking to people in the background at the same time. It sounds like she's in the office, which means I won't get much longer with her.
     I clear my throat. "So I was wondering... when will you send money? Or does Wren have it already?"
     "Actually." She shuffles around for a minute before continuing. "Neither."
     "Sooo, are you sending it to my card or something?"
     "No, Lexi. As part of your punishment, you'll have to work there on the ranch to earn money."
     I almost drop my phone, stumbling into a sitting position on the stairs so I don't fall over. "W-what? Are you serious? How am I supposed to do that?! I have no money to buy anything!"
     She can't really think this is a good idea?
     "Listen honey, talk to Wren. He is supposed to get you all set up, unless he can't manage to do even that," she scoffs with distrust. "Call me if you need me."
     My phone clatters to the floor, causing an impact loud enough for Becky to come find out what happened.
     "You alright, dear?" She hands it back to me.
     I blink away my fury, biting back the cruel words that are bubbling up. "I'm fine."
     "Oh, good. Do ya mind runnin' an errand for me? I packed your dad's breakfast, if you can walk it out'ta him. They're probably out by the barn by now."
     "Sure." I follow her to the kitchen, noticing two plates covered in tinfoil. "Who is the other one for?"
     "Oh! It's for the ranch hand. He's been workin' here all summer helpin' your dad run everythin'." She hands me the food. "Now off you go before it gets cold. Wren gets grumpy when his eggs aren't fresh."
    I stomp across the yard of patchy grass, around to the side where the barn and pig pen are. My mind is boggled with the idea of yet another person I have to get acquainted with. As if having three people all over me isn't bad enough. What on earth does Wren need help with anyway? I've never heard of a "ranch hand" before. I wonder what he's supposed to do and how much time he's going to be around. If I'm about to be forced to work too, I'm sure we'll be doing it together sometimes.
     Please don't let him be a tobacco chewing, old man.
I catch site of Wren first. He's shoveling shit into a wheelbarrow, dressed in dirty work boots and overalls. The smell is enough to make me screw the breakfast and go back into the safety of the nice, vanilla scented house. But he looks over before I have time to run away.
     He takes off his hat and gives a slight wave. "Mornin'. Becky send ya out with breakfast?"
     "Yeah." I hand him his plate, shuffling the other one over. "Eggs, bacon, and potatoes."
     "Food's here!" He yells over his shoulder before taking a seat on the thick wooded fence.
     Around the corner comes who I assume is the ranch hand Becky referred to. Only she failed to mention he looks like that. He isn't what I imagined at all. He most certainly isn't old even looks as young as me. In fact, he may just be the best part about this place so far.
     His arms are sweaty and straining from hauling an empty wheelbarrow, dropping it next to the other one and smiling at me. It's an award winning, southern gentleman kind of smile. Framed by dimples and coupled under a set of indigo eyes.
     The spurs of his boots clank as he walks his wrangler fitted ass over to me.
"Howdy." He tilts his cowboy hat, looking down at me with boyish charm. "This for me?"
I mentally sigh when I notice the shaggy blonde hair sticking out from under his hat.
Wren grunts in the background. "Stop dilly-dallyin' and eat up, boy."
I hand over the plate, and watch him hop up onto the fence. He takes a big bite out of the burrito, showing off jaw muscles that shouldn't be allowed on a face like that.
"Lexi, this is Dawson," Wren says. "He'll be helpin' me out the rest'a summer."
Dawson grins like he's never been happier. "It's nice to meet you, Lexi." I've never liked the Texan accent, but the subtle twang of his as certain words roll off his tongue make my insides quiver.
"Nice to meet you, too." My smile is honest for the first time since I've been here.
"Did ya talk'ta your mom this mornin'?" Wren interrupts my almost dirty thoughts. "She called yesterday, lettin' me know all the stipulations'a your time here. She said you're meant'ta be workin'."
I glance at Dawson, wondering if he knows all the details of why I have stipulations in the first place. "Uh, yeah. She told me I need to figure out how to make my own money."
"I was the one who suggested it. Workin' a ranch can do ya some good. And put more muscles on ya. You'll start tomorrow mornin', bright and early. Be ready to work." His eyes glance around my outfit. "You'll be needin' somethin' else to wear. Those high heels won't do out here."
Dawson chuckles, looking me up and down. His gaze is more direct. I think he may be checking me out.
I switch my stance, resting a hand on my hip. "I don't have anything else. And I don't have money to buy anything new, so."
"Have Becky take ya into town. There's a thrift shop, you should find everythin' ya need."
He tosses his plate into a trash barrel, then gets back to shoveling, just like that.
Dawson tilts his hat with a grin after following suite. "See you tomorrow." He's got to stop doing that before I'm sent into cardiac arrest.
Suddenly, the idea of waking up tomorrow with a cranky spine and no sense of belonging seems a teensie bit more bare-able than it was today.

•••

Thrifty's is the name of the shop Becky takes me to. I can't imagine why they couldn't come up with a catchier title but what do I care? I'll only have to deal with it for 29 more days.
Yes, I'm counting.
Buying second hand clothes isn't something I thought I'd ever have to do. I have a feeling I'm going to be saying that a lot over the next few weeks so I might as well get used to going outside my comfort zone now because it's not going to get any easier.
I have a hard time with pushing that idea away as I shuffle through the rows of musty smelling shirts.
"What do ya think of this?" Becky holds up a short sleeved, checkered button up with a hopeful gaze. "It looks to be your size."
"Yeah, maybe, let's keep looking." I turn around before she sees my gagging face. Who on this planet earth would be caught dead in checkers? Oh, that's right, the citizens of Vernon. Half the people in this store are in checkers or- Oh, god. Camo.
"How 'bout this orange shirt? Your dad has one just like it!" The bright orange is something a hunter would where to stand out in the middle of the woods.
"I'm not sure me and him have the same sense of style." I pull out an oversized flannel. The color is hideous but so far this is the only thing I've found that's decent.
"That red is lovely," she mentions. "A blue one would be beautiful next to your eyes. Your dad always said you have the most striking sky blue eyes he's ever seen, he was right all along."
That news throws me off. "He talks about me?"
"Oh honey, yes! I've heard stories upon stories 'bout you when you were little. Your dad has nothin' but good things'ta say." She holds up a pair of denim jeans. "These feel sturdy enough, you should try these on." They get added to the cart.
"I always thought he forgot about that stuff."
"No, no. You're like a celebrity in our house. I never thought I'd see the day where your daddy got to see you again. It's all he's been thinkin' 'bout since I can remember."
"We haven't talked for years though." I throw another semi decent option in the cart. "What does he even have to say?"
Her face falters for a second before rejuvenating back to joy. "He thought you forgot too, dear. He's always thought you didn't want anythin'ta do with him."
I did ignore most of his calls after a few years of my parents separation, but not because I didn't want to talk to him. I was busy with life in the city. I had Mom and her constant rotation of boyfriend's, fast paced learning in school, different sports every semester. I had to keep up with my social life and extra curricular activities. In between that I never found time to sit and have a conversation over the phone with my then 'Dad' who lived states away. There was never any meaningful conversation anyway, so I gave up. He clearly did too. That's when I stopped referring to him as 'Dad' and starting calling him by his name.
"We'll have'ta get you a pair'a boots somewhere else. Those aren't somethin' to be bought second hand." Becky approaches me with a few more shirts but stops mid step. "Are you okay?"
Realizing I've been staring off into space, I shake my head. "I'm fine."
"I'm sorry if I've said too much. I don't know how'ta keep my big mouth shut sometimes. I was only tryin'ta say: your father loves you very much. Even with all this time apart, I know he's hopeful'ta rebuild somethin'. He's just waitin' on you'ta open up a little bit, that's all."
"It's fine, really. I'm fine." I need to get out of this conversation. I wasn't prepared to open that can of worms and Becky just took it upon herself to do it for me. I need a subject change. Now. "Where did you say we can get those boots?"
She grins, seeming to be over her little fit. "Right next door. Come on, let's go pay. Wren usually likes his lunch soon, so we can pick somethin' up for the boys on our way back."