Page 42 of His Eighth Ride

“I just wish you’d get mad sometimes too.”

Tarr hardly ever did. He was as even as even could be, and if he showed negative emotion, it was neg-a-tive. Otherwise, he did what he was assigned. He’d worked out hard for the rodeo. He trained relentlessly. He smiled all the time, and he had one of the most positive outlooks on life that Tuck had ever encountered.

Behind him, the dishes clanked loudly. He startled and sat up. Looking over his shoulder, he found Tarr slamming his palm against the countertop. “I just can’t believe we have to go to work in the dark.”

Tucker blinked, not sure what was happening.

“And you know what? If Hattie doesn’t want to date cowboys, that’s her loss, you know?” He pointed to Tucker and then back to himself. “We’re good men. We work hard.” He gestured toward the front windows. “She’d be lucky to go out with one of us. And you know what else is totally ridiculous?”

Tuck cocked his head and rolled his eyes. “Okay, stop it.”

“No, I won’t.” Tarr actually looked a little mad. “Who dates someone long-distance for months and months? Never flies out to see them? The fancy dentist can’t come visit her? That’s what I don’t get.”

Tucker smiled and shook his head. “Tarr, enough.” He turned back around and sank into the couch. His best friend joined him, his smile sunny and shiny, and Tuck couldn’t resist it. He grinned too, and the two of them burst out laughing.

As they sobered, Tarr looked at him. “Seriously, brother, I’m sorry about Bobbie Jo.”

Tuck nodded. “Me too. And I’m sorry about Hattie.”

Tarr’s jaw twitched, but he shook his head. “Don’t matter.” He exhaled heavily as he got to his feet. He gazed down at Tuck. “Do you really think we’ll stay here?”

“With all the glory of the sun, I hope not,” Tuck said.

“Right,” Tarr said. “So why would we want girlfriends? Do you think Bobbie Jo is going to run the circuit with us?”

No, Tuck did not think that. So he put his hand in Tarr’s and let his best friend pull him to his feet. “Let’s go see Matt.”

“Don’t worry, Tuck, the sun’ll come up later today.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tucker muttered as he followed Tarr out the front door. Another day in front of him. Another day at the farm. Another day trapped here in Ivory Peaks.

The sun did indeed rise that day. Tuck did have to take a leadership role with the other cowboys, and he could admit that he enjoyed the variety. He still went back to the cabin and made himself a couple of sandwiches, grabbed the bag of potato chips from the counter beside the fridge, and filled his water bottle from the filtered spigot on the sink.

He left the cabin immediately, because he couldn’t stand to be contained by four walls while he ate. He headed away from the cabins, went past the family bonfire pit, and crossed the road.

The seed shed sat over here, the only building on this side, with field upon field stretching toward the pine trees, the fences that marked the boundary between this farm and the Harris’ next door, and the highway.

Hardly anyone drove this way, so Tuck didn’t hear any traffic, and he kept his eyes on the ground as he walked. Only gray existed on the farm right now. Gray in the sky. Gray on the ground. Gray in the fields. Heck, even the farmhouse had recently been freshly painted in its usual color—gray.

His boots made crunching noises against the dirt, and he could feel the snow in his bones. Oh, how he hated the snow.

He walked along the side of the shed, and it took him a couple of steps to realize there was more than just his footsteps filling the air with noise. It sounded like….

Tuck arrived at the corner of the shed and peered around it, half-expecting to see a hurt cat or a lost child.

He found Bobbie Jo Hanks, crying into her hands. Her shoulders shook, and she made high-pitched squeaks that tore at every piece of his heart. His feet had frozen, making it impossible for him to move, though he knew he should. She wouldn’t want him to see her like this.

Then, his mouth betrayed him by asking, “Bobbie Jo?” Thankfully—and this was so going in his gratitude journal later that night—he didn’t ask her if she was okay. She obviously wasn’t.

She lowered the tissue and looked at him with those gorgeous forest green eyes. “Can I sit with you at lunch today?”

“Of course you can.” He’d invited her to come eat with him behind this shed over the summer, and she’d told him—again—she didn’t think her boyfriend would approve of it. She hadn’t said that today.

He took the couple of steps to her and slid down the shed to sit beside her on the ground. “Sandwich?” He extended her one, and she took it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. “Physically, I mean. Like, do I need to get a first aid kit?”

---