Page 101 of My Cowboy Freedom
“Elena quit.”
“Why? Where’s she going to go?”
I had no answers. Only more questions. “Boss is so pissed. He said—”
A terrifying shriek rent the night. It was only an owl but we froze where we stood, hearts racing.
“Is there someplace we can talk?” he whispered urgently. “In private?”
“Come with me.”
I laced our fingers together tightly. Just holding his hand in mine electrified me, swamped my senses. My pulse pounded too loud in my ears. I led him to the equipment shed, pushing the door open, only switching on the flickering fluorescent under-counter lights at my workbench. They gave a faint green glow to the junk I kept stored there, creating ominous shadows on the wall.
Nobody went out to the shed but me. I kept a dorm-sized fridge in one corner and a bench seat from an old truck to sit on.
A hundred years’ worth of tools hung along the walls. Old scythes, pitchforks, shovels, post diggers, wires, pliers—you name it, I’d collected it from wherever it had been discarded at the Rocking C.
I had milk crocks and butter churns, car parts and circuit boards. I’d started repurposing the obsolete things, using an old coffee grinder to stash spare keys or hanging a wooden yoke on the wall with added hooks for dog leashes and jackets.
In my shed, a pristine vintage roadster kept company with a tractor that needed fixing.
“This place is amazing.” Sky ran his hands over the little car’s fender.
She must have been very sad there, with only farm equipment for company.
How awkward, to share a shed—Odd Couple–style—with John Deere.
“The car used to belong to Mrs. Chandler.”
“Sweet.”
“Of course, Andi would have killed to drive her when she came of age. Sterling never lets anyone touch that car. Now she doesn’t run anymore.”
I could have fixed her. I’d asked for permission several times but Chandler refused. Maybe it made him sad, to see his wife’s car after she left. Or maybe he was punishing the car for his wife’s disloyalty. He kept her in the shed, though. At least he didn’t leave her out to rust...
“Sure is pretty.” Sky flopped onto the truck bench. “Elena would look real good driving a sweet little car like that.”
I’d tried, but Sterling Chandler was a complicated, unhappy, selfish man.
I filled Maisy’s water bowl from a gallon jug I kept out there, before taking a couple Coke cans from the fridge for Sky and me.
“If I had my way, Elena would sure as shit be driving that car.” I handed a cold can to Skyler. “I can just see her, hair flying all over, big smile on her face. Pretty Mama.”
I watched Sky’s face as he pulled the tab on his Coke. He was looking around. Taking it all in.
My little world.
“This is a nice place you’ve got here.” He sat forward, cradling his Coke can between his knees. “You fix this up for yourself?”
“Yeah.”
There was a time when the shed—when having a place I could call my own—meant everything to me. When I thought the boss and Elena were so cool. When I thought they really wanted to make things better for me.
Now, I could see the goal had been to keep me so content in my little country shed, in my little country life, I’d never ask myself what else might be out there for me. And of course beingout, comingout, living my life as anout,gay manwas exactly what they’d been trying to prevent. They must have calculated the odds: Since my being gay was a done deal,outwas the hill where they’d make their stand.
If I lookedoutward, I noticed all the local men my age were growing up, finding some variation on the theme of “socially-sanctioned mate”—and starting families of their own. My entire life was a pretty lie, designed to keep me from noticing that none of those things were going to be possible for me.
Now, Elena had given her notice...
