Page 1 of Hanging Horseshoes

Prologue

Rodeo

Eighteen Years Old:

“I’m so sorry,” I say, kissing the envelope as I slide it into the branch Ophelia and I usually used to send our secret messages.

It started out when we were kids. We would hide a clue to our next great adventure in this tree. Those adventures usually turned out to be something like finding a rock I painted gold down by the river just so I could see her smile. She was my girl and had been since we were born.

Neither of our parents were great people. They belong to a religious community where the leader rules every aspect of our lives. Still, for all its faults, it's a peaceful community. Our parents follow every rule, including beating their kids into submission. Well, that was my parents' way. Ophelia just had to deal with her parents' neglect. If she were dealing with the abuse, like I was, there would be no way I could leave her behind… but I have to.

Ophelia has always been the perfect girl. The best and brightest in our small school class. She counsels the younger girls, always volunteering to help anyone and everyone. She is loved by all, but none love her as much as I do. Which is the exact reason I have to leave. I can't let my doubts infect her. I can’t rock her faith. She clings to it, especially when she’s not clinging to me. If she knew the thoughts and confusing feelings I have going through my mind, she would hate me, and be disgusted with me.

So maybe that's it. Maybe I’m just taking the coward's way out by leaving a goodbye note in this tree instead of doing this face-to-face. Still, I knew what would happen if I tried to tell her goodbye in person. She would ask to go with me or beg me to stay. Her whole life is this community, the kids, the church. My life, my future, is not here. It's somewhere far from the hypocrisy, the judgment, and the condemnation that runs rampant in this community.

I’ve had trouble fitting into this community my whole life. I was never one to follow the rules, mainly because even when I did, I got a beating for it anyway, so what's the fun in that? It was more than that, though. I never understood the teachings. They preach love and kindness, acceptance of thy neighbors… but what they mean is acceptance if you conform. Acceptance and love with conditions. You have to believe exactly what they believe; you have to live exactly how they determine you live.

They follow a book that their own preachings misinterpret. I never understood how you can preach love and acceptance, but hate a group of individuals so much for who they choose to love….

Who I choose to love.

I love Ophelia, and looking down at the spot in the grass where we both lost that innocence just last night, tempts me. It tells me that if I truly love her, I’ll leave her. Something’s always been missing, like another piece of me has never been filled. I don't want to live where I miss a huge part of my identity. Where I’m not sure if I’m being true to who I was born to be. I don't want Ophelia to settle for half of me; she would have to if I stayed here. I have to go. I have to find… something.

Chapter One

Rodeo

I throw back another shot and slam the glass on the bar top. Self-loathing is a bitch, and I've had my fair share of it. I take in my surroundings, rolling my eyes when a woman locks eyes with me and starts making her way over here. That's the last fucking thing I need right now. I am very happy here, at a bar in the middle of nowhere, drinking my ass into a stupor. This isn't a habit I make a lot, but sometimes, the memories, confusion, and disgust are just too much to bear.

“Not interested,” I growl as I feel a hand settle on my shoulder.

“You sure, baby? I could…”

“Not. Interested.” I say through clenched teeth, ignoring her scoff and muttering as she makes her way back to wherever the hell she came from.

The memories flood back, and I pick up the newly refilled shot glass and throw it back. I miss my girl every single fucking day, but I know I did the right thing leaving her. The sad thing is, after four years without her, I still haven't figured my shit out. I thought as soon as I left, I would find who I really was, find the happiness everyone else seemed to sink into so easily. That hasn't happened once.

Well, maybe it has once. Thinking about those eyes staring at me through the compound gate…

I shake my head. Not going there. I need to forget all about that incident. Unfortunately, that's what all the drinks are for. I thought I was confused before leaving home, but now I realize I didn’t even know what that meant. My thoughts are running away from me, and all I feel is… lost.

“Might want to slow down on those, brother. The old ladies see you walk into the compound with a hangover, and you know you'll get the third degree on top of some very intense mothering. On the other hand, keep going. I would love to see that shit. All the brothers pouting 'cause their women are babying you.” Grease smirks, taking a swig of his beer. I wince and sigh. He’s right. If I'm not careful, they will all attack me. I’m not in the mood for all of that at the moment.

“What's been going on with you lately, brother? Something is eating at you. We all have noticed it.” He mumbles. I look at him in surprise.

“Y’all noticed?” I ask. He rolls his eyes.

“We’re fucking family, man; of course we noticed. We wanted to let you work through it and get your head on straight, but it seems to just be getting worse. You know you can talk to any of us, right? We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

“I know, Grease. I just need some time. I’ve never had a family that supports me, no matter what. It was never in the cards, so I’m trying to learn to open up.” I tell him, knowing it's the truth.

I want to talk to my brothers, but would they understand? Would they kick my ass right out of this fucking club if they knew my true feelings? I don't honestly believe they would, but if my parents can't love and accept me for who I am, can I really ask the same of others?

“Well, we’re not leaving. No matter what you have to tell us.” He looks directly into my eyes like he wants me to hear what he says next.

“We know you, Beau,” he says, using my real name, meaning he wants me to understand him completely. “We know who you really are, and we accept that. We accept you. Just let us in.”

And with that, he tips his beer bottle back, finishing it off and setting it on the bar top. I can't meet his eyes, but I can feel him turn to look at me. He sighs, stands, holds my shoulder, and then walks away.

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