Page 32 of Sin With Me

“He probably saw us foolin’ around and wanted to bust my balls because of the wholesleepin’ with his wifething. Anyway…the judge asked if he had documentation on this drug dealin’suspect, and when he said no, the judge basically discredited his excuse. Not sure what’s gonna happen to him since he’s already on suspended leave, but I’d avoid him to be safe.”

She sends another memo as I park in front of the barn. “Well, I avoid most men, so it won’t be an issue on my end.”

I snort, then listen to her next one.

“I’m happy to hear you’re not behind bars. But maybe for funsies, you stay out of trouble and keep your fists to yourself?”

Wilder

Just my fists?

Delilah

Your mouth, too. It’s what gets you into hot water most times because you’re always running it.

Wilder

Pretty sure you liked my mouth on yours by the moaning and begging you were doing.

Delilah

I did not beg!

Grinning, I grab my Stetson hat and phone before exiting my truck, continuing the conversation about court. “John being there helped my case a lot. He argued about Wesley’s unprofessionalism and provokin’ me on purpose. The judge already saw the body cam footage, so he knew, and although he agreed that it was out of line, I still had to be punished for assaultin’ an officer regardless if he was on duty or not. John talked him out of givin’ me jail time since I wasn’t a threat to the general public and was an asset needed on my family’s ranch business. So he agreed with the probation and other stuff instead.”

“An asset, huh?” She giggles in her next voice memo. “Don’t tell your siblings. They’ll give you shit for that one.”

“Trust me, I know. But I’d rather they do that than have to serve time. I gotta get to work before Waylon kills me, but I’m pickin’ you up at seven. Don’t eat beforehand. I’m takin’ you out to celebrate.”

I pocket my phone without waiting for her response—since I’m sure she’ll act defiant about it—and then find Waylon in one of the stalls.

“Well, well, well…” he drawls, and I already know he’s going to be on my ass all day. “If it ain’t the criminal.”

“Save it. I’m here and gonna catch up,” I tell him, grabbing one of the rakes and getting to work.

After we break for lunch, Waylon and I get the horses ready for the trail ride tour. Four people signed up for today, so we take out the horses assigned to them.

When guests check in, they can sign up for activities and when they choose trail riding, Tripp gives them a specific horse based on their experience and age. If they want to go more than once, they’ll get the same horse each time.

Waylon usually leads the group and then I follow at the end to make sure no one gets left behind or a horse doesn’t randomly take off. Sometimes we’ll switch and then we each talk about the ranch’s history and how Sugarland Creek became what it is today.

When the group is more playful or experienced with horses, I’ll stand up in the stirrups and ride next to the other horses to get them to gallop faster. It usually makes the younger guests laugh and they get to experience the trails the fun way.

“Hey, everyone, welcome to the retreat! I’m Waylon and this is my brother Wilder, and we’ll be your guides today. Has anyone been here before?”

Waylon continues with his usual welcoming speech as I lead two horses on each side of me toward the corral. It’s where the guests will put on their saddles and get comfortable climbing on and off before we leave.

We’ll check they’re secure beforehand, but it’s fun for them to learn about some of the aspects beforehand. When we return, they’ll remove the saddles, and we’ll talk them through grooming care.

“During this season, you’re gonna get the most beautiful views from the mountains. Lots of colorful trees,” I tell them once everyone’s settled on their saddles. “We’ll stop at the top so you can take pics if you want.”

Before everything happened this past year, I was known to be rowdy on the trails, sometimes even standing on my horseand taking bigger risks while riding. I wanted that adrenaline rush any way I could get it even if it meant falling on my ass or getting kicked off. And although I still do things that are considered reckless, I got a lot of perspective after Mr. Fanning’s death and talking with a therapist.

The afternoon sun peeks through the trees as we give our usual spiel about the ranch and the Appalachian Mountains that surround it. A couple asks questions and then we stop to take photos for them.

Once we return from the tour and get the horses back in their stalls, the guests are free to explore, but they’re usually with a group of people.

“Wilder, right?” One of the women from the tour taps me on the shoulder.