Page 44 of Ace of Spades
We pass the bunkhouses and an arena before arriving at the stables near the back of the property, the set of parallel white buildings running the length of the arena, complete with outdoor runs for each of the stalls.
“This place is huge,” I breathe, taking in my surroundings as the fresh spring air rolls through the truck’s windows, my trailer bouncing over the rough dirt.
“You haven’t even seen half of it,” she tells me. “All four of the guys have their own cabins in each corner of the property, and there are a few extra cabins near the front of the ranch where Rhonda and her husband live, along with Debbie. And over there—” she points towards the east of the property. “Is where the guest bunkhouses are. They just built them about a year ago for the guest ranch. There’s also a barn and a round pen, all of the turnouts for the horses, and now the hookups, of course.”
“What do you mean bynow?” I ask.
Were they relatively new?
“Oh—nothing,” Dakota says, as if catching herself.
“Anyways, you see all the way back there?” she asks, pointing to the stretch of rolling land behind the property that stretches over the foot of the mountain. “That’s all part of the ranch, too. Every direction, really. This is all just the main area.”
“How were they able to get this place? It’s massive.”
“I’m sure the guys can tell you the full story, but basically the gist of it is that they started saving up ever since they decided to buy a place when they were all in high school. They’d had their eyes set on this particular ranch since they turned eighteen. It was super worn down and barely had any buildings on it. They saved up their first few years on the circuit, met Chance, and the four of them managed to turn it into what it is today.”
We reach the stables, Beau showing me where to stall my horses as Chelsea and Dakota help me unload them, before the group heads to the lodge for lunch and I’m left with Weston. Heshows me where to park the camper: At the sole water and electric hookup, a stone’s throw away from the back of his cabin.
I take a quick shower and throw on some clean jeans, a vintage band tee, and my running sneakers before finally pushing myself out the door to go meet the others. I lose track of the number of times that I nearly turn around on the walk to the lodge, a mental war waging inside of my head as I battle my insecurities.
What if they didn’t like me? What if they saw me as a nuisance at the ranch, or worse, a charity case?
I didn’t do well with large crowds of people. Funny, coming from a pro rodeo cowgirl, but it was true. Sure, I could hold my own, and I never let it show. But growing up in a household where I’d plaster smiles across my face whenever mom had her parties at the estate, or when dad had his investors or business partners over, I’d learned to fake it until I make it. Genuine conversations, though, with people who have no ulterior motivations? Completely foreign to me.
I take a deep breath as I walk up the steps to the back patio, slipping through to find the place already packed. The space is bright and airy, with a large open-concept kitchen directly to the right and one long wooden banquet-style table reaching from one end of the room to the other, three-fourths of the way full of who I assume to be the ranch hands. The end closest to the kitchen is filled with the four guys, Chelsea, Dakota, an older couple, and a beautiful red-headed woman who looks to be around my mom’s age.
“Hailey!” Dakota calls, waving me over to the open seat beside her.
“Make yourself a plate, honey, everything is laid out for sandwiches,” the older woman tells me, her short silver hair styled into a messy bun.
I make my way to the kitchen island, the countertop a gleaming black marble that fits beautifully with the exposed wooden beams and stained concrete floors. Plate in hand, I make my way back to the table, quietly slipping in between Dakota and Chelsea as the conversation ensues around me.
“It’s nice to meet you, honey. I’m Rhonda. This is my husband, Mike, he’s the foreman on the ranch,” the older woman tells me, offering me a kind smile as she takes a bite of her sandwich.
“I’m Debbie,” the other woman tells me, reaching out a hand in greeting. “So, are you going to be helping with meals while you’re here?”
“Oh—uh, I’m not really sure,” I admit, placing my sandwich down on my plate.
“She is,” Weston cuts in, turning to face me next. “Everybody helps around here. We don’t charge for rent or boarding or food or anything, but we do require everyone to lend a helping hand.”
“Besides,” Beau adds. “Over half of us are leaving first thing in the morning for the cattle drive, so you’ll have it easy for the next few days.”
“Cattle drive?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Rafe tells me. “The breeding season is early spring, so the majority of the calves should have been born by now. We spend two days riding up to the back field to bring them down.”
“Can I come?” I ask.
The last thing I needed was for them to laugh in my face when I admitted I didn’t know the first thing about cooking or cleaning. Besides, two days in the saddle didn’t sound so bad. Definitely better than staying here and bonding with people I would likely never see again once I left the ranch. I felt like an outsider, and I was completely fine keeping it that way.
“Not a chance,” Weston states, taking a bite of his food.
“Why not? You have female ranch hands.”
“Yes, and they have ranching experience.”
“I can swing a rope,” I argue.
