Page 39 of Ride Me Cowboy (Coyote Creek Ranch #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Beth

I DON’T EAT DINNER WITH the family, even though that’s become part of my habit now. I trust Mackenzie but at the same time, I don’t feel like I can sit across from her and pretend like nothing’s going on with Cole and me now she’s caught us in the act.

Instead, I grab a sandwich and take it to the office, where I start editing the video together. I did a few subjects in film at college, and always loved this side of things. I find a royalty free website and download a great country track.

Hours pass in the blink of an eye, and when my phone starts to ring, I jump clear out of my skin from the surprise of it, because I’m so utterly engrossed in what I’m doing.

Elsie’s face fills the screen.

Crap. I want to avoid the call, but having already ignored her text, I figure I can’t really dodge her call, too.

I swipe it to answer and click on the speaker phone, as I glance around to make sure the door to the office is shut.

“Hey, Elsie.”

“Did you get my text?”

I grimace. Straight to it. “Yeah, I did.”

“Oh, okay. I just…didn’t hear back from you.”

I close my eyes on a wave of irritation, quickly followed by a tide of guilt.

Where my feelings toward Christopher are straight up angry, Elsie’s are not.

He was her big brother, and she loved him unreservedly.

She’s the one who’s in mourning, and she’s missing me, the woman she thinks she shares that with.

“No, I know, I’m sorry. The thing is, Els,” I search for something to say, and draw a blank. “I can’t make it.”

Silence falls, and I imagine her computing that. I really like Elsie, but she has been doted on and indulged since the day she was born. ‘No’ is not a word she particularly likes to hear.

“I want to,” I lie. “But I’ve just started this job—I can’t get away.”

“Come on, Beth. It’s not like you need to work. Just quit. Come home. We miss you.”

Home. My eyes land on the starlit sky beyond my window, the dark mountains with their flat tops, the big stone boulders that form a boundary to the drive on one side. If it were daylight, I’d be able to see the roses, too, resplendent in their pastel beauty, sweetly fragrant.

“I do need to work,” I say, quietly, but with determination.

“You’re worth a fortune,” she sniffs. “Christopher would hate to think of you being bossed around by anyone.”

“I’m not being bossed around,” I deny flatly.

“You know what I mean.”

Yes, I do. Christopher didn’t want me getting a sense of value from an employer, to be validated by a job well done. Heaven forbid I should leave the house and do something I enjoyed. He wanted me right where he could keep an eye on me, control me, own me, in a way that sends shivers down my spine.

“I need to get my mind off things,” I say, and God knows that’s the truth. “Being out here, it’s helping.”

“But what about us?” she asks, a hint of petulance in her tone. “You’re not the only one who misses him, you know.”

Guilt is like a rock, squashing my whole torso, so I can barely breathe, much less think.

“Having you here, for mom’s birthday, it’d feel almost like he was here. If you’re both gone…it’s too much. Too hard.”

I squeeze my eyes shut but it doesn’t stop the tears from forming. I totally understand what she’s saying. Two empty seats at the table will really draw attention to what’s missing.

“Me coming back doesn’t change anything,” I whisper. “He’s still gone.”

Elsie sobs and I feel awful. I imagine her trying to hold everything together for her parents, whilst juggling her own grief, and I’ve abandoned her completely.

But I tried, for three months, to be the person they needed me to be, and it was almost as hard as being married to Christopher. I felt like I was trapped in the worst kind of nightmare, and there was no waking up from it. Only escape—running away.

“So, what, that’s it? He’s dead and you’re just…not part of our family anymore?”

My stomach clenches and I stand up, as if that can stave off the wave of nausea that’s hitting me. “Come on, Elsie. Just give me some time.”

She sniffs, and I think maybe I’ve gotten through to her.

But then, she says the one thing that both bruises me the most but also reinforces why I’m right to stay: “Chris would be so hurt, Beth. This is not how he’d want you to behave.”

“That’s true,” I admit. “He’d want me to be there with you guys, but the thing is, for the first time in years, I’m doing what’s right for me. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but you’re just going to have to live with it.”

I disconnect the call before I can hear her reply.

I’m shaking all over, like a butterfly on the edge of a storm.

I sink back in the chair and drop my head into my palms, waiting for my breathing to return to normal, for sharp flashes of memories, of Christopher and how he handled his disappointment with me, to fade away again.

Because out here, I’m safe from all that.

I’m almost back to normal when there’s a knock at the door. I suck in a deep breath and pinch my cheeks to bring some color back to them before calling, “Come in.”

The door opens and Mack sticks her head around. “Thought you might want some pie.” She holds up a bowl and spoon. I can just make out a big scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I’m about to demur when the smell of buttery pastry and sweetened apples reaches me and I think of the simple dinner I ate, hours ago.

“Okay, thanks,” I say, finding it hard to meet her eyes.

She hands over the bowl then looks at my screen. “Is this what you’ve been doing?”

I look at the computer, where there’s a still shot of Beau, smiling out at us.

“Yeah. Just editing together a few videos. I thought if I could get at least the first week’s worth of content ready to go, we can just schedule the posts, and go from there.”

“Nice,” she says. “Wanna show me what you got?”

“Sure.” I hit play, then stand up. “You sit down. There’s a heap of footage to go through.”

She takes my seat, and I stand beside her, eating the most delicious pie I’ve ever had—a pie that frankly makes a mockery of all other pies—and wait for Mack to say something about the footage.

She watches them all, clicking through the folder one by one, laughing when Beau pulls a stupid face at the camera.

Good, that’s exactly the reaction I was hoping to get.

“These are really good, Beth,” she says, finally, and because I know she’s someone who doesn’t lavish praise by habit, I feel her compliment land extra deep. “I really like the way you’ve shown the ranch as it is. Vast, dry, tough, but also beautiful and lush. It’s such a contradiction.”

“Yeah, it is that,” I say, thinking of the land directly around the house, so green it’s like an oasis.

Down by the creek is verdant, too, but as you get further out from the house, the more distant fields are arid and dusty, all the way to the forest. The landscape is unyielding and elemental in a way I couldn’t really have understood until setting foot on it.

“I’ve got some ideas, too,” she says, a little shy.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The early morning rides we do, I always think it’s the most beautiful time of day out here.

We start with coffee, down by the stables, saddle up, set out.

The stars are still out, the sky’s all dark, but then it gradually lifts, the color spreading, and the air is so fresh and clear.

I can take some footage, if you want. So, you don’t have to head out so early. ”

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell her I like waking up early, that I’d love to ride out with them, but a couple of things stop me.

Until I can confidently ride a horse, I’d just be a burden.

But mostly, I can tell Mackenzie is hungry for this responsibility, and given that she’ll be taking over from me in a couple of months—if Cole lets the social media project keep running, that is—then she should start learning.

“Okay, great,” I say. “I’m trying to get a mix of landscape and portrait footage, so I can use some as posts and some as reels. We can always zoom in and edit, too.”

She glances up at me, then, and I can tell she’s trying to say something, but struggling to get it out.

“Anything else on your mind?” I prompt, gently, giving her an opening. It’s possible she wants to talk about Cole and me. I remember the warning she gave me, not to get involved, not to hurt him. Maybe she wants to redress that.

“I sing,” she blurts out, then colors to the roots of her hair.

It’s the last thing I expect her to say. “What do you mean?”

She looks toward the door, like she’s scared someone’s going to burst in, then pulls her phone out.

“They don’t know,” she explains, then hits play on her phone.

Mackenzie’s voice, but different to how she speaks, fills the room.

She quickly presses the volume down, still flushed, bright as a berry.

The song is sweet and sad, talking about not belonging, about being lost, not having a home, and then, toward the end, there’s an uplifting verse about finding her place, amongst the trees and the stars, and the never-ending fields.

My heart turns over at the heartfelt lyrics, but it’s so much more than that. It’s the beauty of her voice.

“I thought…I’ve never really wanted anyone to know, but if you thought it could, you know, help. With the ranch, I mean.” She looks toward the door again. “If it helps earn extra money…”

And just the way she says it has something clicking into place for me.

Mackenzie knows; I’d almost bet my life on it. And now she wants to do whatever she can to save this place that saved her.

“I think some footage of you singing would be a huge hit,” I say, honestly. She’s absolutely beautiful, has the voice of an angel, and such feeling in her eyes.

“Footage? Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” she shakes her head quickly. “I just thought as background music, you know?”

“That’s good, too, but you singing on camera would be incredible.” I tap the side of my mouth thoughtfully. “It’s up to you, though.”