I forced myself to take deep, calming breaths.
I needed to be methodical.
I couldn’t find any info on bus times, so I ran to the woman at the convenience store where I had bought my God-awful hot dog.
“When is the next bus?” I asked shakily.
She looked confused.
“You know, like the bus that was just here,” I clarified.
“Ain’t no buses come here, girly.”
“But…one just stopped…”
“Ain’t nobody stopping ’em stopping. But this ain’t no bus stop.”
“So, there is no way out of…where are we?”
“Hook Springs, Texas, sweetie,” she said with a trace of amusement. “And there’s always a way out. If you ever wanna leave, that is.”
She gave me what I swear was a little wink.
It was just dawning on me how little I had thought this all through.
I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but a backpack, a few bucks, and a frankly terrible haircut.
I just wanted to curl up somewhere and cry.
I wasn’t usually into that kinda crap.
Still, I swallowed down the lump in my throat and tried to get my thoughts in order.
It looked like the kind of dead-end, one-horse town you’d see in the movies.
Just then, as if on cue, a lone horse, its bridle loose, turned the corner and strutted down the near-empty street.
Behind the lone horse was a man, racing to catch up.
He couldn’t have been that much older than me. Tall, with sandy, messy hair under his cowboy hat, and a chambray shirt rolled up to the elbows.
Definitely stressed.
“Barry, get back here, boy!” he hollered at the skittish horse.
I felt a smile tugging at my lips.
The young cowboy eventually grabbed Barry’s reins. I felt a surge of empathy for the runaway horse and his short-lived bid for freedom.
His handsome handler rubbed him tenderly on the nose as he calmly led him to a dusty general store and tied him up outside like a goddamned bicycle.
The man hadn’t noticed me watching from the street. I think my new bangs helped. I liked the stealth they afforded me.
I couldn’t tell you why I did it, but I quietly followed him into the store. I guess curiosity got the better of me.
Inside was even more old-timey than the exterior. It was full of dusty bags of animal feed, hardware, big cans of oil, that kind of stuff.
I slipped into an aisle that held pet food and canned goods and listened to the handsome man’s conversation with the cashier.
“And how are the Angels doing?” the cashier asked.
“Oh sure, they’re great. Getting ready for the season.”
What could the Angels be? I couldn’t imagine this outdoorsy dude running a gang of sexy female spies.
I kept listening.
“You boys must be busy at the ranch.”
“We sure are. In fact, we’re looking for an extra pair of hands. Duncan’s heading off to the Peace Corps.”
Another light bulb flickered in my brain.
Especially if the boss was such a dish.
I knew it sounded crazy, but so was hitchhiking to Houston.
The more I thought about it, the idea of being alone in a big city with no money or friends was frightening.
Plus, there was the greatly increased risk I would be recognized.
But no one would be looking for me here. And it seemed nice too—the kinda place where you could tie up your horse outside the general store.
When you’re low on options, I guess you need to jump on any opportunities that get thrown at you.
I stepped up to the counter, trying to seem casual. “Howdy, what can I do for you?” the elderly cashier asked kindly.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a micro SD cable?” I asked off the top of my head, hoping he didn’t.
“Maybe, I’ll have a look in the back now.”
The cashier turned away to search, leaving me and the handsome cowboy alone.
“So, you’re looking for a ranch hand?” I said, affecting a slight drawl and cringing a little inside at my poor attempt at a southern accent.
“Sure am,” the handsome dude replied, extending a big hand for me to shake. “I ain’t seen you around here before. I’m Jason. Jason Walker.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Riley—”
“Riley…Davies. Riley Davies,” I stuttered as I shook his hand.
His hands were rough, but in a nice way. Like he’d spent the morning chopping wood.
“You new in town?”
“You could say that,” I offered simply. “Been thinking of relocating. I’m kinda curious about this job you mentioned.”
“Do you have experience working in stables?”
“I know my way around a horse,” I replied, trying to sound casual.
“Perfect. I could get your details, and you could come over sometime…unless you’re free now?”
“Now works,” I said, realizing I was a fraction too enthusiastic.
“Cool! Do you wanna follow my car…?”
“Actually, if I could grab a ride, that would be great.”
It passed pretty quickly though. The cashier distracted us, returning without the cable I had requested.
“Sorry, sweetie, we don’t have none of those.”
“No worries, thanks for looking.”
“Thanks, Joe, see you soon,” Jason said, heading out the door. “You coming, Riley?”
“Bye, Joe,” I said as I followed Jason out.
“Is this your car?” I joked as Jason untied Barry.
He laughed. “Yep. Classic model. 2008. Fun to drive, not always reliable,” Jason said affectionately as I rubbed Barry’s face.
“My trailer is just down the road; he managed to break free when I led him out,” Jason continued with a smile.
“He had needed to see the vet in town—had a bit of colic and we don’t want that gettin’ worse now, do we?”
“Oh no, we don’t,” I replied, feigning experience. “No sirree.”
“So, let’s get him in the box, and let’s get on the road.”
We led Barry down the street toward Jason’s truck. The horse kept nuzzling my neck.
“I think he’s flirting with you,” Jason said, grinning.
“You don’t say,” I laughed as we reached the trailer and he opened up the back door.
“Okay, he’s good to load in,” he said, expecting me to take charge.
While I’d had plenty of experience with horses before, I had never had to lead one into a vehicle.
I took a deep breath.
Barry followed me in easily. But then I was stuck at the back of the box.
I squeezed out to the side and jumped out.
“Haven’t seen it done that way before,” Jason said in his breezy way.
“Well, you know…I like to get ’em straight in there. Let ’em know we’re all in it together.”
I followed Jason to the front of the truck and jumped in the cab. He started the engine and turned onto the highway.
“So, where you from, Riley?” he asked sweetly.
“Massachusetts—”
“Cambridge,” I added.
At least I’d been there. I could fake it.
“Wow. That’s a ways away. What brought you here?”
“You know, I just needed a change of scenery.”
“And you drove here?”
“Yeah! But my car broke down, so I hitched a ride.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said sympathetically. “You know, I got a great mechanic in town.”
“Oh no, it’s way too far gone. It blew up.”
“Oh my, are you okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned.
“Fine! I got out in time. Lost most of my stuff though,” I shrugged.
“You’re one plucky gal, Riley,” he told me with a megawatt smile that made me desperate to think of something funny to say.
“I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about your ‘Angels’… You running some kind of 1970s spy ring down here or something?”
“Afraid not. But I do help with our all-star trick-riding team. Even get to perform with them now and then.”
“Nice.” I nodded coolly as if I had any idea what that meant.
He turned off the highway and onto a gravel road. His vehicle kicked up rocks, which lightly banged against the underbelly of the truck.
The land was dry, with trees that looked hardy and tough. About a mile down the road we reached a large property, the front of which was a long ranch-style home, oozing with rustic charm.
The truck found its way around the back, which I guessed was some kind of stable complex.
I’d been to similar places outside of Boston…sort of. I convinced myself I could do this.
At least, I was pretty sure Jason would hire me. We seemed to be jelling.
Jason parked, and we stepped out of the cab. “Nice place you got,” I said.
“Thanks, he’s the guy who makes it all happen.” He waved behind me. “Hey, Dad.”
I swiveled to see a tall, gray-haired man with a kind, weathered face.
“This is Riley, all the way from New England. She wants to interview for the ranch hand role,” Jason explained to his father.
“Chris,” the older man said, shaking my hand warmly. “Great to meet you.”
“You too.”
Deep down I was nervous.
I’d convinced myself that this ranch job could be my new plan A. Better to hide out here than in a big city. Plus, I’d always loved riding.
Just when I had no idea where to go or what to do, a golden ticket had fallen from the sky in the form of a handsome cowboy and his rebel horse.
“Let’s go have a talk,” Chris said kindly. I nodded and followed him through the stable to a small office, tucked to the side of the building.
“So, what’s your experience?” Chris asked as he directed me to take a seat next to his cluttered desk.
“I was a stable hand,” I said, off the top of my head. “Mucking up and cleaning tack and bringing out the hay.”
Chris had that same gentle-yet-irritatingly-hard-to-read expression as his son.
“Do you have a resume on you?” he asked.
“Not on me.”
“So tell me, where have you worked?” he continued gently.
“At Sunny Creek Stables. And Maple Ridge. Both in Massachusetts.”
They were two I remembered from when I used to ride.
Chris turned to his computer.
Inside I started to panic.
“Sunny Creek looks like a nice place,” he said, glancing at the screen. “When did you work there?”
“Last year,” I lied.
“After it burned down?”
“Um, sorry, I got mixed up with Maple Ridge,” I explained.
Chris leaned forward, empathetically. “Be honest. Do you have any experience?”
“I used to ride as a kid,” I confessed, utterly mortified.
This was not going to plan.
