Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Wow. Despite his ravenousness, he's still a gentleman. I place my order first, then the server notes down everyone else's requirements, leaving us alone with our rumbling bellies.
"I never saw you guys in here before," I say.
"If we eat in town, we usually grab food at the bar." Colt points in the direction of Connor's Bar, a place I've never been inside.
"How come we didn't go there today?" I ask.
"It's a dive," Scott says.
Cash clears his throat. "It's not really somewhere we'd want to take you."
"Scared some other burly rancher would sweep me off my feet."
There's a rumble of disgust at that idea. "No one would come near you while we're around, but it's not exactly special."
"Neither is this place," Scott says, "But this town isn't exactly overloaded with Michelin-starred restaurants."
"It's not overloaded with any restaurants," Colt laughs. "If you're looking for an alternative to a burger, you'd be hard pressed to find it."
"Someone needs to open a Chinese restaurant," I say. "Or maybe a Mediterranean bistro."
"What do you eat at a Mediterranean bistro?" Cary asks.
"My momma always wanted to go to Greece. She used to tell me about the food. Crispy squid and lamb roasted for a whole day sealed in a clay oven. Fresh fish served with salad and flavored rice, stuffed vine leaves."
"Vine leaves…you mean like the leaves from a grapevine?" Sawyer asks.
"Yeah, I guess. They fill them with rice."
"And that's edible?" His raised eyebrows make me laugh.
"Of course. It's like cabbage or lettuce, I guess. Do you guys ever think about traveling?"
"We traveled to get here," Scott says, rolling a napkin into a sausage shape, then unfurling the tissue and smoothing it flat.
"From where?"
"We grew up in Fresno. It was our dad who wanted the country life, and we got dragged along for the ride."
The milkshakes arrive, giving me a minute to process that they haven't come from a farming family. My strawberry shake is creamy and fruity with a big squirt of cream on top and fresh berry on the side of the glass. Sawyer's chocolate milkshake is rich and brown, Cary and Cash's are similarly creamy, but Colt’s has a chunk of banana on a stick.
"So you didn't want to become ranchers?" I ask.
"It wasn't where we saw ourselves, but it got into our blood." Cash smiles, using his thumb to wipe some shake from the corner of my mouth.
"It got into some of our blood," Scott says, but he doesn't elaborate, and I'm left wondering if he's talking about his mom or himself. Does he want to leave Hard Valley? I can't imagine him doing anything else. He rides a horse like a man born into the saddle.
"Well, you're sure doing something right." I smile, watching Scott for his reaction, but he's staring out to the window, watching the world go by.
"We know you were born here," Sawyer says. "Did you ever imagine yourself someplace else?"
"I guess when my momma would talk about other places in the world, I imagined that I'd go and see them one day. We used to look at pictures of different countries in geography class, and I'd try to imagine myself there, on that beach or in that city." I shrug and reach for my drink. "It's hard to imagine me anywhere except here right now. Traveling's for people with money and roots. I think you need to feel like you can take time out of your life to expand your horizons but also know that you have a place to come back to."
Sawyer nods. "So, where would you most like to go if you could?"
"Ireland," I say. "My family's roots are there. My momma tried to trace our family tree, but she didn't get very far. I'd like to finish her work and go and see the place."
"We have Irish roots too," Cash says. "On our father's side."
"Do you know where from?"
"Nope. We've never done any family tree stuff."
"Well, maybe it's something we can do together."
The waitress appears with plates of food. There are chicken wings and nachos covered in beef, cheese, guacamole, and sour cream. There are some spicy chicken strips too that are coated in crispy skin, and deep-fried potato skins loaded with bacon, cheese, and jalapenos.
We all dig in like the ravenous beasts we are.
Conversation flows in between, and it's fun. I get to hear stories about the Bradfords growing up. Funny school pranks and how they came to get Big Boy. I tell them about my pet sheep and how I used to walk him around like a dog. I tell them about the crush I had on Aiden, my father's right-hand man, who was at least fifteen years older than me. They share each other's first relationship stories, and there are plenty of flushed cheeks and shoulder punches. Through all of it, I get to see them, not as the big scary ranchers who swallowed my farm up like the whale swallowed Jonah, but as decent men and brothers who love each other, first and foremost.