Page 5 of Belong With Me

Chapter Two

Ryder

The weather out this way tended to go from one extreme to the next. Hell, we were located on the outskirts of what we affectionately called Tornado Alley. But the worst season of all was summer.

Summer in Belle Springs was like sticking your head in the oven after cooking a roast for a couple of hours. Working on the land in one-hundred-degree weather was what a normal day looked like for me.

Lifting the lid to the cooler I kept on the passenger side floor of my truck, I wiggled a bottle of water out from between the ice packs that kept everything chilly, and twisted the top free.

Immediately, I guzzled almost the entire bottle in greedy swallows. It helped beat back the heat, enough so I could almost begin to breathe normally again. I’d been at it since sunup, and a glance at my well-worn watch that my father gifted me on my eighteenth birthday confirmed that it was a little after two in the afternoon already.

I had made some progress, but I still had a hell of a long way to go if I was going to get everything done that I planned for today.

After lifting my well-worn hat off my head, I poured the small amount of cool liquid that remained in the bottle over my head, before throwing the empty bottle and cap back into the cooler. With my hat resting against my bent knee, I ran my hands through my hair. The movement sent droplets trickling down my neck and onto my shoulders.

The coolness was such a welcome relief. Stark contrast to the heat belting down on me. I pressed the remaining moisture on my hands against my cheeks before slipping my hat back on. Looking into the cooler once more, a smile spread across my lips when I spied the cling-wrapped sandwich tucked away in the corner.

The smile grew even more when I thought of who had placed this in here for me. My twin, Savannah, always looked after me. Looked after all of us, really. Unwrapping it, I then took a huge bite. My mouth started to water almost the instant the flavor hit my taste buds. The combination of leftover roast pork, slaw, and the slathering of apple sauce on freshly baked bread was divine.

Van had always been one hell of a great cook. From a young age, she would happily sit on the kitchen counter for hours and help Mom measure out ingredients and mix them all together. She even learned how to bone a leg of lamb correctly in her early teens. There were many nights back before our parents passed that she would help Mom bring the many dishes to the dining room and happily point out which ones she helped create. With no fewer than seven of us at the table, there could never be a shortage of food to eat at our house.

With three growing sons, Momma always said, ‘Protein is a must for my three boys, along with a good helping of leafy greens and other vegetables. A nice sturdy meal to ensure you three grow up to be nice and strong for all the work this ranch requires of you on the daily.’

Like with most things, she was right. We all ate our meat and veggies every single night, sometimes going back for additional helpings and each of us ended up over six feet tall. The girls weren’t so lucky though. They tended to favor Momma’s shorter stature.

It was an added bonus that most nights there was something sweet waiting for us if we ate everything on our plates. Even now as adults, Van continued the tradition. There was always a peach cobbler, apple pies, or some kind of cake or slice. When Van finally made her first cake from scratch, with no assistance from Momma at all, well… there was no stopping her. Every day after school, she came home and baked something while my brothers and I were helping Dad. Each night when we came inside, whatever she had made got devoured, with only crumbs remaining. All while she watched us with a smile.

Taking another bite, I enjoyed the taste as the tartness of the apple danced across my tongue. A whine from by my feet had me looking down. Two furry heads looked up at me, tongues lolling out of their mouths as they sat on their haunches and waited for a scrap.

After swallowing, I leaned in, reaching inside the cooler once more for the scraps that Kenzie, the baby of our family, had popped in the container for Milo and Oz. Once I had clasped the edges and pulled the lid free, I made them sit while continuing to eat my sandwich. When they were sitting nicely, I offered them a piece each. They took them gently from my fingers and in a few quick chews, had eaten the meat offcuts. With my hands free, I bent down to scratch the tops of their heads. “That’s my good boys.” I praised them once I had finished my sandwich completely.

Leaning back inside, I pulled another water free. This time I sipped the liquid in small amounts. I didn’t have time to get indigestion. Not with a whole truckload more work to get done. I meant that literally, too, as there was still an actual truckload of posts waiting for me back at the barn. The sun was still set to beat down on me for several more hours, and that made me appreciate this break even more.

So far today, I’d only managed to get repairs done to approximately half a mile of fencing. Which I knew wasn’t something to sneeze at, not at all, although I really thought I’d be further along.

Several of the timber posts had started to rot, so it was better to dig them out and replace them with the metal ones we had ordered. Even if it was a hell of a lot more time consuming, and the longer I was out in the sun, the more exhausted I became.

Man, after dinner and a hot shower, I was going to fall into bed and sleep like a damn rock tonight.

After several more bites, I finished the sandwich, then crushed the wrapping still in my hand before tossing it onto the passenger seat. Taking the empty container, I filled it with one of the bottles of water I still had and set it on the ground by the wheel. “You two share. You hear me?”

Oz flattened his ears while Milo sat dutifully, looking up at me with love in his eyes. I scratched him around the muzzle before telling them both “Drink” and they did.

With a few more sips of water and a final search for extra food, which unfortunately didn’t exist, I headed towards the tray of the truck and looked at what remained. After checking over the gear, I calculated there to be enough supplies for maybe two or three more sections of fence. That was only if they weren’t in too bad a condition.

Pushing on, I got into the driver’s seat and headed a little further down the fence line before stopping once again. Rounding the cab, I bent to look at the base of the post, fingering the timber. It seemed in decent shape, so I straightened and kicked at the soil surrounding it with the heel of my boot. With the base clear, I could see that rot hadn’t affected this one, at least not yet. The wire however was looking a little worse for wear.

Returning to the truck, I then grabbed my tools and other items I needed and got back to work. The sooner I started, the sooner I’d finish, and as I looked along the line of wire and timber, I could see that there was still a heck of a lot more to go.

Hours later, I’d finally made my way to the fence line of the property that followed the road back to our ranch entrance. That’s when I saw a car that seemed completely out of place driving past.

Music blared loudly from the open windows; the artist one I didn’t recognize. The bass was thumping as a raven-haired woman in the driver’s seat bopped along to the rhythm. Her eyes never left the road, so I knew she didn’t spot me. Still, I watched until she was no longer in view. When the laugh finally broke free from my lips, I chuckled for a good couple of minutes at the sight I had just witnessed, before finally shaking my head at the fact there had been a brand new Volkswagen Beetle being driven into Belle Springs.

My best friend, Logan, would have had an absolute field day. Actually, I wondered if Logan had even worked on a bug before. I mean, it wasn’t as though there were any of them in town, and he’d never even left Belle Springs. Much like me, he’d decided to stay here once we graduated school. He did his apprenticeship with Frank. The man had taught him everything he knew and when it was finally time for old man Mathers to retire about six years ago, Logan had purchased the shop from him.

Since he was the only mechanic in our hometown, he was a jack-of-all-trades, so to speak. If your regular car needed a service, he was your man. Your tractor had taken a beating during the harvesting season and needed a new belt? Time to call Logan. When visitors to our hometown couldn’t handle the country roads or the various animals who tended to escape from time to time to wander into traffic? Logan was once again your man to give you a tow to his repair shop.

Being the only person to call meant he never really had any time off. The man hadn’t had a holiday since taking over the shop completely. Quite often, he came over to watch the Dallas Cowboys on the big screen. We’d sit on the couch, with an ice-cold one in our hands and he’d get called out for one job or another. Now, he could ignore the call quite easily, but Logan wasn’t that kind of guy. Except on those occasions he had been drinking. He’s always the first person I called when I needed help because he dropped anything and everything for his family. We were pretty much that for him. Especially after what happened with his brother, Ethan, but I didn’t want to think about that right now.

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