8. Life in the Ranch

CHAPTER 8

Life in the Ranch

CALEB

T he sun was just starting to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold, as I finished mending the last section of fence. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I stood back to survey my work. Not bad for a day's labor, even if my back was screaming at me.

"Getting too old for this," I muttered, stretching out the kinks in my shoulders.

Drumstick, my faithful quarter horse, nickered softly from where he was tethered nearby. I chuckled, reaching out to pat his neck. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Time to call it a day, huh?"

As we made our way back to the barn, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mixed with a familiar ache. The ranch had been struggling lately, what with the drought and rising feed costs, but we were hanging in there. Mom's medical bills hadn't made things any easier, but her being in remission was worth every penny and then some.

The word ‘remission' still felt fragile on my tongue, like saying it too loudly might jinx it. It had been almost fifteen years since Mom's diagnosis, fifteen years since that late-night call from Dad that had changed everything. I'd been halfway through my junior year of college, chasing dreams of music stardom and thinking I had all the time in the world.

But cancer doesn't care about your plans.

I'd dropped everything and rushed home, desperate to be with her, to do whatever I could to help. The ranch, the animals, the endless round of doctor's appointments and treatments - it had kept me busy, kept me focused on something other than the gaping wound in my soul. College, music, my own ambitions - they all fell by the wayside as we fought this battle together.

Now, fifteen years later, here I was. Still on the ranch, still putting one foot in front of the other. Mom was doing better, thank God, but the fear never really goes away. You just learn to live with it, like a shadow always at the edge of your vision.

I was just finishing up Drumstick's evening feed when my eyes fell on my old guitar, propped up in the corner of the barn. It had been gathering dust for months now, maybe even years. I couldn't remember the last time I'd really played, not just noodling around but really playing.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I picked it up, the weight familiar in my hands. My calluses had softened, but muscle memory took over as I strummed a few chords.

The melody that came out was an old one, a song I'd written lifetimes ago. For Liam. The thought of him still sent a pang through my chest, but it was duller now, more of an echo than the sharp pain it used to be.

Then I heard a familiar set of footsteps coming towards me.

"If it isn't the resident slacker, caught in the act." Hank drawled, a shit-eating grin spreading across his weathered face.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of my mouth. Hank had only been with us for a few years, but he'd quickly become an integral part of the ranch and our family.

I chuckled, setting my guitar aside. "Very funny, old man. I was just taking a little break."

Hank's expression softened slightly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Yeah, I get it. Lord knows this place has seen its share of hard times."

I nodded, remembering the day Dad had finally admitted he needed help. It had been during Mom's worst days, when the cancer treatments had left her too weak to get out of bed. Dad was stretched thin, trying to care for her, manage the ranch, and keep an eye on me. Hiring Hank had been a lifesaver.

"How's Dad doing?" I asked, suddenly feeling guilty for taking a break when there was so much work to be done.

Hank shrugged. "He's holding up. Your mama's doing better this week, so that's lifted his spirits some. But he could use a hand with the fence repair in the north pasture, if you're done with your ‘break'."

I stood up, brushing off my jeans. "Say no more. I'm on it."

As I moved to leave, Hank caught my arm. "You're doing good, kid. Don't be too hard on yourself for needing a breather now and then."

"Thanks, Hank. I appreciate that."

Just then, Leo and Dean, our two younger ranch hands, poked their heads into the barn.

"Boss playing hooky again?" Leo asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Dean chimed in, "Careful, Caleb. You keep this up, and we might stage a coup."

I laughed, grateful for their easy banter. "You two couldn't run this place if I handed you the keys and a user manual."

"Ouch," Dean clutched his chest in mock pain. "You wound us, boss."

Hank shook his head, but I could see the amusement in his eyes. "Alright, you jokers. Don't you have work to do?"

As Leo and Dean shuffled off, still chuckling, Hank turned back to me. His expression softened a bit. "You know, it's good to hear you laugh like that again, kid. Been a while."

I felt a twinge in my chest, knowing he was right. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm finally starting to feel like myself again."

Hank nodded, his eyes knowing. "That song you were playing. It's about him, isn't it? That boy from back in the day?"

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only to those who know you," Hank said gently. "Listen, Caleb. I know you've been through a lot, and I know it's not easy to let go of the people we love. But at some point, you've got to start living for yourself again."

The truth of his words sank into my bones. He was right, I knew he was. But the thought of letting go, of moving on. It was terrifying.

"I'm trying," I said softly. "It's just not as easy as I thought it would be."

Hank squeezed my shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Nothing worth doing ever is, kid. But you've got a whole lot of folks here who love you and want to see you happy. Me, your parents, those two knuckleheads out there…" He jerked his thumb towards where Mark and Dean had disappeared. "We're all here for you, no matter what."

I felt a rush of warmth at his words. "Thanks, Hank. That means a lot."

He grinned, giving me one last pat on the back before stepping away. "Anytime, kid. Now, what do you say we talk business for a bit? I've got some updates on the horses that I think you're gonna want to hear."

We spent the next hour going over ranch business, the familiar routine grounding me. As we finished up, the radio in the corner crackled to life.

"And now, we've got a special request from one of our listeners. Here's a song by the rising star, Corey King."

I felt a sudden rush of excitement at the mention of Corey's name. I had been a fan of his music for years now, drawn to his haunting melodies and soulful voice.

Hank raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Corey King, huh? Didn't peg you for a fan of the pop scene."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "It's not like that. I like his music, that's all. It speaks to me, you know?"

As the song played on, I found myself getting lost in the melody. But this time, instead of being transported to the past, I found myself thinking about the future. About the ranch, about the music I wanted to create, about the life I wanted to build for myself.

When the song ended, Hank clapped me on the shoulder. "You've got good taste in music, kid. But don't let it distract you from the work at hand."

I nodded, feeling a newfound sense of determination. "No worries, boss. I'm on it."

As Hank left, I picked up my guitar again. But this time, instead of playing an old, familiar tune, I found myself experimenting with something new. Something that spoke of hope, of possibility, of a future yet to be written.

And as the notes filled the air, I felt something shift inside me. Some long-dormant part of my heart coming back to life. It wasn't about forgetting the past, I realized. It was about using it to build something new, something beautiful.

I let myself play for a while, losing track of time as the music flowed through me. It felt good, like stretching a muscle I'd forgotten I had.

As the last notes faded away, I realized the sun had fully set, the barn illuminated only by the soft glow of the overhead light. With a sigh, I set the guitar back in its stand.

"Thanks for the audience, buddy," I said to Drumstick, giving him one last pat before heading out.

The screen door creaked as I stepped onto the porch, the familiar sound grounding me in the present. The warm glow of the kitchen light spilled out, mixing with the fading sunset. The scent of Mom's famous pot roast mingled with the crisp evening air, making my stomach growl in anticipation .

Mom was at the stove, her back to me as she stirred something in a pot. Her hair, once thinned by chemo, had grown back fully now, though it was more salt than pepper these days.

"There you are," she said, turning to face me with a smile. "I was beginning to think you'd fallen into a fence post hole or something."

I snorted, grabbing a beer from the fridge. The cool glass was a welcome relief against my calloused palm. "Very funny, Mom. The north pasture fence is all fixed up, by the way. Should hold through the winter, at least."

She nodded approvingly, then paused, studying my face. "You look different tonight. Did something happen out there?"

I hesitated, then shrugged. "Nothing much. Just had a good day, I guess."

Her eyes lit up at that. "Well, it's about time. I was starting to think you'd forgotten how to smile."

Before I could respond, the front door swung open, and Dad's heavy footsteps echoed through the house. The familiar sound of his work boots being kicked off and his tired sigh filled the air.

"Something smells good," Dad called out, his voice gruff but warm as he entered the kitchen. He paused in the doorway, his eyes moving from Mom to me. "Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence. Thought you might've moved into the barn permanently."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't help the small grin that tugged at my lips. "Careful, old man. Keep it up, and I might just go back out there."

Dad chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder as he moved past me to wash his hands. "Old man, he says. I can still outwork you any day of the week, son."

"In your dreams, maybe," I shot back, the familiar banter feeling comfortably worn, like a favorite pair of jeans.

Mom shook her head, but I could see the smile she was trying to hide. "If you two are done measuring, dinner's ready. Caleb, set the table, would you?"

As we sat down to eat, the familiar clinking of cutlery against plates filled the air. For a while, we ate in comfortable silence, the kind that only comes from years of shared meals and shared lives.

"So," Dad said between bites, "heard from Hank that you two had quite the chat today. Said you might be thinking about making some changes around here."

I felt a flash of annoyance at Hank's big mouth, but pushed it down. "It's nothing major. Just been thinking about some stuff, that's all."

Dad nodded, his eyes searching my face. "Well, whatever it is, just remember - you've got a good head on your shoulders, even if it is a bit thick sometimes. Trust your gut."

The gruff compliment, so typical of Dad, made me smile. "Thanks, I think."

Mom reached out, patting my hand. "We're just glad to see you I don't know, more like yourself lately. It's been a long time coming."

I felt a twinge of guilt at her words, knowing how much they'd worried about me over the years. "Yeah, well, guess it was about time I grew up, huh?"

Dad snorted. "Bout damn time. Was starting to think I'd have to pension you off to the old folks' home."

"John," Mom admonished, but there was no heat in it.

I laughed, the sound feeling rusty but good. "Nice try, but you're stuck with me. Someone's got to keep this place running when you finally admit you're too old for it."

Dad's eyebrows shot up. "Too old? I'll show you too old. First one to finish their chores tomorrow doesn't have to muck out the stables for a week."

"You're on, old timer," I grinned, feeling a spark of the old competitive spirit I'd thought long gone.

As we finished our meal, the conversation flowed easily, touching on everything from the upcoming cattle auction to the latest town gossip. It wasn't anything special, just a normal family dinner. But somehow, it felt like more.

Later, as I helped Mom with the dishes, I caught her watching me with a soft smile.

"What?" I asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just good to have you back, Caleb. Really back."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak past the sudden lump in my throat. But as I looked out the window at the darkening sky, at the ranch that had been my whole world for so long, I felt something shift inside me. A spark of hope, of possibility, of a future I was finally ready to embrace.

It wouldn't be easy, I knew that. There would be challenges ahead, old habits to break, new paths to forge. But for the first time in a long time, I was looking forward to the journey. And with my family beside me, I knew I could face whatever came next.