Page 9 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

She blinks a few times, her eyes turning glassy. “Yes,” she whispers. “Of course.”

Why don’t I believe her?

None of this is my problem. Jesse will have to pick up the pieces of his foolhardy scheme. If she’s trembling about becoming Clint’s wife, how the hell is she going to feel about the rest of what she has coming?

“Let’s go,” I say. “The quicker we get back, the quicker we can show you around. You’ll like it, I promise.”

It’s the weakest promise I’ve ever made.

The drive home takes two hours, and it’s hella awkward. Clint sits with Taylor in the back, dodging conversation the whole way. In his defense, Taylor falls asleep within ten minutes with her head resting awkwardly against the side of the truck. Me and Clint exchange a loaded look. The poor girl’s either exhausted or pretending to sleep so she doesn’t have to engage with us. Either way, it’s probably better. Clint’s the strong, silent type. Jesse’s tone usually carries an element of command that strikes fear into the unsuspecting. He’s bullheaded, too. I babble and make jokes to fill the empty space. Between us, we probably make a terrible, mystifying, or terrifying first impression.

The shirt I wear pinches my neck, and I unfasten the top two buttons. The breeze streaming in through the open windows is warm and dry but cooling, nevertheless.

I don’t feel right until we reach the boundary of the ranch. Like a fish out of water, I only breathe easy when I’m home.

We’re driving past the main herd when Jesse brakes suddenly, pulling the truck close to the fence. One of the cows has gotten itself caught and is struggling in vain to free its strangled throat.

“Stupid goddamn animal,” Jesse grunts as he slides from the truck. I’m close behind him, kicking up dust as I rush to help. Clint’s last to exit the vehicle, or at least, I think he is, until a minute later, Taylor’s standing six feet away from us as we wrangle with the frantic cow, dirtying up our clothes and exhausting our strength. When it’s finally free, the fence is a mangled mess, and we’re disheveled and sweating.

This is far from a good first impression.

Taylor’s eyes are wide as the cow tries to return to the herd, its gait uneven and its eyes still bulging.

“Should we take it to the barn?” Clint asks Jesse.

“Let’s wait a few minutes… see if it eats and drinks.”

While I search for tools in the back of the truck, Jesse and Clint lean against the fence, watching the cow. Taylor, still maintaining her distance, does the same.

Through her eyes, the ranch seems a wild and unpredictable place. If you haven’t grown up in this life, it can be difficult to adapt. The hours are long and hard, and the cycle of life and death is unavoidable.

I manage to fix the twisted, busted parts of the fence, and the cow seems fine. We all troop back to the truck, sliding in to continue the journey to the house.

“Does that happen often?” Taylor asks.

“Yup.” Jesse shakes his head. “Cows are stupid animals.”

“They’re so big. I didn’t realize how big they’d be.”

“Big and stupid.” Jesse has no sense of humor.

Clint clears his throat. “They’re sweet creatures. Generally docile. Only happy in herds.”

“Unlike people.” Taylor makes a soft sound in her throat. She doesn’t realize it yet, but she just summed up Clint. He’s happier with animals than he is with other humans, happier alone than in company, generally brooding and tough. I wonder how she’ll find him as a husband. At least with me and Jesse around, she won’t get lonely.

“Are you an introvert?” I ask her, trying to work out how she’s going to fit in. Jesse grunts like I just cursed in church. I might as well have confessed to believing in horoscopes.

“I don’t know,” she says.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” I turn in my seat and catch her shaking her head as she focuses on the open land, which is ours, as far as the eye can see.

“I guess I like people if they’re good people. And I’d rather be alone if they’re not.”

Clint nods, his perpetual frown lifting. Maybe Jesse will be proven right after all. Taylor and Clint could be a match made in heaven.

Taylor’s eyes widen as we approach the house. With its grand pillared porch and a trellised verandah spanning the whole building, it’s pretty impressive at first sight. I know women like flowers, and this time of year, they’re everywhere.

I wonder what her former home is like. Maybe she’ll tell us when she’s settled in. Maybe we’ll meet her family, although as there was no one to see her off at the auction, maybe not. It hits me that I don’t know who the money is going to. Is it, for her, a kind of dowry? Or did someone else put her up to it?

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