Done and Dusted: A Rebel Blue Ranch Novel

Rebel Blue Ranch sat on nearly 8,000 acres of prime Wyoming land. This made it the biggest ranch in Meadowlark and the surrounding counties, as well as one of the largest ranches in the state.

My family’s history with Rebel Blue went all the way back to the 1800s, when my family made their way to the Wild West. The ranch was smaller then. Most of Rebel Blue’s original structures still stood, in some form or another.

As I drove my truck through its big iron gate and onto the main dirt road that led to the Big House, my throat tightened.

I was home, and Rebel Blue was just how I’d left it.

The ranch was primarily a cattle ranch, just like it was when it started, but we also raised sheep and leased space for horses.

It was Wes’s dream to convert some of the structures we didn’t use anymore into a small guest ranch, but that was a massive project, and Gus wasn’t exactly on board. He hadn’t told Wes no outright–he was just hesitant.

It could still happen, though. Gus did a lot, but he wasn’t the captain of the ship yet.

When something changed on the ranch, we usually voted, and it had to be unanimous. If the guest ranch ever came to a vote, I would vote with Wes. I wasn’t sure how my dad felt about it, but if there was one thing about him, it was that he was all about big dreams.

At the center of Rebel Blue was Amos Ryder.

Even though my dad was closer to seventy than sixty these days, Rebel Blue was still very much run by him, and probably would be until he physically couldn’t do it anymore.

Wyoming was my dad’s heart and Rebel Blue was his heartbeat—it pumped life through him.

No matter how badly I’d wanted to escape Meadowlark, I couldn’t deny that Rebel Blue pumped life through me, too. It was hard to describe the way it made me feel. When I stood on the ranch and looked up at the blue skies or straight ahead at the mountains, it was like I was so small and insignificant. But not in a bad way; just in a way that reminded me that my problems were never as big as they seemed in the grand scheme of things.

About a mile down the dirt road, the Big House came into view.

It was built in a log cabin style, and had six bedrooms: one for each of us, a guest room, and one that unofficially belonged to Brooks.

When we got older, Wes had decided to stay, probably to make sure someone was there with my dad, but Gus had moved to one of the cabins down the road.

My truck rolled to a stop next to a black Chevy K20 pickup I didn’t recognize. I assumed it belonged to whoever was teaching the riding lessons this morning, since Wes always parked his truck around back and the ranch hands had spaces outside their cabins.

I reached across my front seat to grab my phone and a pair of sunglasses. While I was looking down, someone banged a hand on the hood of my truck, pulling a jump so high out of me that I hit my head on the roof of my cab. God dammit. As if the hangover headache wasn’t enough.

As I rubbed the top of my head, I saw my brother Wes out my front window. He was wearing a giant smile, and even though he had just caused me bodily harm, I couldn’t help but return it.

Wes was the human equivalent of a golden retriever. Unlike Gus and I, he’d gotten my mom’s features. Instead of dark hair, his was sandy. His green eyes were lighter than ours, and he also had two huge dimples that were often on display.

To be fair, Gus got the dimples, too, but he wasn’t exactly known for smiling.

Wes walked to the driver’s side of my truck, opened the door, and pulled me out into a fierce hug.

“Hey, baby sister,” he said. His eyes were shining bright. I wished everyone was this happy to see me all the time.

“Hi, big brother,” I responded. “What are you doing at the house this late in the morning? Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Ha. Ha. Gus called me this morning and said you would be here by the end of Riley’s lesson, so I needed to welcome you home and tell you two things.”

“Go on.”

“Dad has started doing yoga.”

A shocked snort came out of me at the image of my sixty-five-year-old father doing downward dog. In my whole life, I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d seen him wearing something other than jeans and a flannel.

“I know, I know,” Wes said while shaking his head. “But he’s getting really into joint health. He’s eating vegetables and shit, too.” Just when I thought nothing ever changed around here. “Anyway, the point is that your room is his most recent yoga studio. He moves them around based on where and when the sun comes in the window, and since it’s summer, the sun is favoring your room.”

“Okay…”

“So you have some choices: you can take Gus’s old room, or the small cabin is open.” The small cabin was set about 500 yards behind the Big House, surrounded by old aspen trees, and it was right next to the stream that ran through part of the ranch. It was also closer to the smaller stables that held most of my family’s horses. Even though it was close to everything, it felt secluded.

Unlike the rest of the cabins, it didn’t have a separate bedroom. It was basically a cabin studio apartment.

Private and cozy—sounded perfect to me.

“Small cabin, please,” I said.

“Good choice.” Wes smiled. “I rode down there after Gus called this morning and cracked a few windows. It’s been a while since anyone’s been in there. Bedding and towels are in the wash for you, too.”

While Gus was a fierce protector, Wes was a dedicated caretaker. I think that’s why the idea of a guest ranch appealed to him.

Taking care of others was what made Weston Ryder happy, and he never expected anything in return. He didn’t even think about it.

I gave him another squeeze. “I’ll help you take your stuff down there after dinner, okay?” he said.

“Okay,” I responded. “ Also, there’s room for Maple in the stables, right? Her transport should be here with her tomorrow.” Considering how quick my Denver departure was, I hadn’t had time to get my small horse trailer, and I didn’t pick up Maple from her boarding stable–but I’d called them on my way here to arrange a transport for her.

“Of course, Emmy. There’s, like, thirty stalls in the Ryder stable. You can put her by Moonshine. I’m sure they’ll be happy to see each other.” Moonshine was my horse, too. She was getting older at twenty-three, and living out her golden years eating lots of carrots and apples.

“Sounds good. Is there a four-wheeler around that I can take to grab Riley?”

“Yeah, there’s one in the garage. Keys are in the ignition,” he said. “I’ve gotta go. The ranch hands will riot if they think I’m slacking off while the big dogs are out of town. Fences to mend, heifers to wrangle. You know the drill.” I did. “I’ll see you later, Emmy.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and started to walk away.

“Wes?” I called.

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t ask me why I came home.”

“I don’t care why you’re here, only that you are.” Those words went right to my heart. It took a lot of shitty things happening to me to finally force me back to Meadowlark, but I think I made the right choice coming home.

“Welcome home, Clementine,” Wes said. He tipped his hat, turned back around, and started walking toward the stables.

I cruised down the trail that led to the small corral the ranch used for lessons during the summer. My hair whipped behind me, and there was nothing but land and blue skies in front of me. God, this would never get old.

I had loved living in Colorado. I was happy anywhere there were mountains, but there was something about Wyoming.

As I approached the corral, I saw a few figures outside the fence, probably parents watching their kids, and five of our Shetlands with tiny humans on their backs.

The riding lessons were a new-old thing at Rebel Blue. My mom used to teach them, so they stopped when she died.

It wasn’t until Riley was born that Gus decided he wanted to bring them back, not just for his kid, but for other kids in Meadowlark, citing my mom’s philosophy that riding taught kids patience, empathy, and discipline.

I’d been too young to remember my mom teaching lessons, and by the time Gus started them up again, I had already left Meadowlark, so today was the first time I was seeing them.

I stopped the four-wheeler a good thirty feet away from the corral. It didn’t matter how calm and even-keeled the ponies were–you could never be too careful about spooking them when there were four-year-olds on their backs.

It was easy to spot Riley’s curly black hair. It was a miracle that Camille’s genes had stood up to Gus’s, and it made for a damn cute kid—black hair, green eyes, and two massive dimples. She was riding her favorite pony: a chestnut-colored lady named Cheerio. As I approached the corral, I recognized a few of the parents and made my way over to stand near them.

One of the moms was whispering to another about someone’s butt being “made for those jeans,” and I stifled a laugh.

Gus must’ve picked a winner for a teacher. It took a second for me to spot the man they were talking about. His back was toward me, but it only took me half a second to identify his broad shoulders, the brown hair poking out of his worn baseball cap, and yes, his butt.

I could not believe Luke Brooks was an instructor of children.

And that all of them were still breathing.

Brooks hadn’t seen me yet, so I did something I never let myself do—I watched him. He was helping another little girl adjust her hands on the reins, and gave her hair a ruffle when she got it right. From the smile that little girl flashed up at him, you would’ve thought she’d just won a trip to Disneyland.

“Emmy, is that you?” The mom who was whispering about Brooks’s butt pulled me out of my state of observation. I knew her. I recognized her face, but I couldn’t remember her name for the life of me. I think she had a brother my age.

“The one and only,” I said. I gave her a smile, trying to channel my inner Teddy Andersen. She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by a kid yelling, “Auntie!”

I turned back to the corral to see Riley, Cheerio, and now Brooks, facing my direction. The look Riley gave me could’ve melted an iceberg. God, I missed this kid.

Brooks smiled at me, too, but…it wasn’t his normal cocky smile. From the way he was looking at me, I would’ve thought he was actually happy to see me.

That was new.

“Hey, Emmy,” he called. I shot him some finger guns.

I wish I were joking.

I internally berated myself, but Brooks seemed unfazed as Riley asked him a question and he bent down to tell her she could dismount—safely, he specified—since it was almost time to untack. With one of her hands under the pommel of her saddle and the other holding the reins, Riley removed one of her feet from the stirrups and carefully swung that same leg over Cheerio’s croup and down to the ground.

She was a natural.

Watching my niece with her pony made me drunk with pride, but it also sent a baseball bat to my stomach. I hadn’t been able to ride Maple in a month. I would get her tacked up and out to a ring, but when it was time for me to mount, I panicked.

Every time.

I’d been injured while riding before, but never like what happened in Denver last month. It wasn’t the first time I’d ended up in the dirt because of a bucking horse, but it was the first time I’d ever completely lost control while riding, and I couldn’t get any of it back. No matter how hard I fought.

From the beginning of that practice drill, I knew something was wrong. The horse I was training was agitated and skittish, but I ran him anyway.

I knew better, and I did it anyway.

I shuddered at the memory and felt my heartbeat making its way to my ears, but I kept my eyes on Riley, using my niece as a distraction from the onslaught of anxiety that flooded me every time I thought about that day.

Not now, Emmy. You can’t do this now.

I took a deep breath, the same type of breath I’d taken outside The Devil’s Boot last night, the morning air reminding me it was a new day.

And that I was home.

Riley handed her reins off to Brooks, who took them dutifully. She ran toward me—climbing through the gaps in the corral fence and throwing herself into my arms before I could take another breath. I stumbled back a step, but managed to keep myself from falling on my ass despite the hangover.

“Auntie! You’re here!” Riley put her little hands on my cheeks.

“I’m here, sunshine,” I said, smiling at my favorite four-year-old.

“Did you see me riding?” she asked. “Did you see me and Cheerio?”

“I did—you might be a better rider than your dad,” I said jokingly. Riley’s smile grew.

“He says I should try to be like you because you’re the best rider there is.” The metaphorical baseball bat met my stomach again.

Yeah, I was a great rider. A great rider who couldn’t even get on a horse. There had to be a joke in there somewhere, especially considering my last name was literally Ryder.

Riley leaned into me and took a healthy sniff. “Auntie,” she said. “You smell smoky.” Showing up to a riding lesson hungover and smelling like The Devil’s Boot? Oh god, that sounded like something Brooks would do.

Shit.

“Riles!” Brooks called. “Time to untack. Unlatch yourself from Emmy, please.”

I squeezed Riley tighter. She giggled. “Auntie won’t let me go, Brooks!”

“Way to throw me under the bus, kid,” I said as I set her down. She finagled her way through the corral bars and back to Cheerio. Brooks handed her back her reins and looked at me.

The smile he’d greeted me with was gone. Now, he looked annoyed.

Was he seriously annoyed that I interrupted the very end of his riding lesson–after the stunt he pulled at the bar last night?

Why was he even teaching riding lessons? This was the same guy who used to shoot clay pigeons from the bed of my brother’s moving truck.

Brooks moved from the middle of the corral to open the gate. As he ushered the kids through and onto the path that led down to our stables, he looked at me again.

I hoped he couldn’t see through my sunglasses that I was looking right back.

LUKE

God dammit. Emmy Ryder looked just as good in the daylight as she did in the neon. Which was damn good, by the way.

When I heard the four-wheeler stop near the corral, I knew it had to be her, and I hated how anxious I was to see her.

And here she was. In faded blue jeans and a ratty George Strait t-shirt that was cropped short, she was basically a walking wet dream for any cowboy.

It took effort to take my eyes off of her as she settled in next to the group of moms, who for some reason thought I hadn’t heard them talking about my ass for the last forty-five minutes.

There was another guy who taught lessons at the ranch every once in a while, but I’m pretty sure Gus purposely put him in the adult classes. I got the kids because Gus thought I was a “MILF Magnet.”

But I wasn’t interested in any of the women parked along the fence–until now. Emmy stood next to them, looking out of place. I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She politely said hello, but I knew she wasn’t here to make small talk. She was here to see Riley.

Riley was obsessed with Emmy. She never shut up about her aunt, even when Emmy wasn’t here. Normally, I’d wait until after the lesson was over, and the horses were untacked and back in their paddocks, to let the little hellion go over to her aunt.

Unfortunately, I was a fucking sucker for Riley, so as soon as she asked to go see Emmy, I gave in. Watching them reunite was honestly kind of special. I wasn’t sure what the weird feeling in my chest had been when I saw the giant smile on Emmy’s face as she hugged Riley.

Whatever, it was probably the hangover.

I looked at Emmy again. Everything I’d felt about her last night was still there.

I still thought she was beautiful.

I still wondered what she’d look like wrapped up in my bed sheets.

I was still pissed that she left with Wyatt, and I still wished she’d left with me instead.

I hoped she couldn’t see all of that written on my face.

Shit, I was in dangerous territory.

Emmy Ryder had burrowed her way under my skin in a way I was not expecting.Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

What the hell was I supposed to do about that?