Page 12 of Opposites (Never) Attract
She shook her head. “It must be worse than some questionable decisions. The Swinging D I knew was close to a hundred thousand acres of land and twenty thousand head of cattle-”
“Ten,” I cut her off.
“What?”
“We’re down to ten thousand head of cattle and the yield from that isn’t enough to cover the loan McGraw took out to expand his property line.”
“So, sell off some of the land,” she said, as if it was that easy.
“That’s not an option.”
“Why?” She asked.
“The only people who are buying land in Wyoming are outsiders.”
She thew up her hands in disgust. “Oh, not this again.”
“This. Again,” I said, flatly.
Our waiter stopped by to take our food order, but Sunshine and I were too busy staring at each other across the table.
“I’ll give you a few more minutes,” he said, and left as quietly as he’d come.
Sunshine leaned in to make her point. “Someday, the good people of Wyoming are going to have to understand that it is not a crime for people outside of the state to buy property inside of the state.”
I leaned closer too, both of our faces in the candlelight. I could smell her expensive perfume, the lemon twist in her drink. “And some day, the rest of the country, not Wyoming, is going to have to think really hard about where the steak I’m about to order is coming from. The outsiders who come fence the shit out of everything. They build fucking resorts so people can ski without thinking about the impact to the land. Yes, McGraw overextended himself. But he did it to save a way of life. That’s worth something to me.”
“Of course it is. You’re a cowboy. But, overextending yourself, if you can’t sustain it, isn’t good business.”
“That’s where you come in,” I said, and then leaned back when the waiter returned to take our order. I nodded in her direction first.
“I’ll have five grilled shrimp and the artichoke,” she ordered.
“What’s that?” I asked. “An appetizer?”
“No,” she said. “It’s five grilled shrimp and an artichoke.”
“Andit’s something you eat?”
“It’s something I eat.”
The waiter turned to me. “The artichoke is very popular.”
“Well, I’ll have prime rib. Biggest one you got. Rare. Baked potato. All the fixin’s.” I handed him my menu.
“Fixin’s?” the waiter asked, somewhat confused. “Just so I’m clear, that would be…”
How was it possible people didn’t know how to eat a damn baked potato? “Butter. Sour cream. Bacon. Cheese,” I rattled off on my fingers. “You have any of those truffle things back there? Throw those on, too.”
“Truffles?” the waiter asked.
“I like ‘em on fries, probably great on a baked potato.”
The waiter looked to Sunshine as if he needed help interpreting my version of American English, but she just shrugged.
“A few slices if you have them,” she said to the waiter.
He left, and it was just the two of us again.
