“Currently in the north section, but they’ll need to be moved to the winter pasture in the morning.”
“Why?” They hit another bump, and every muscle in Maisie’s back screamed. “How long have we been in this truck? Does this road ever end?”
“Sixteen hours, but we’re nearly there. This isn’t exactly a road. It’s more of a driveway. A really long one. To answer your first question, we’re moving them as close as we can in anticipation of calving season starting, but as a rule, cows need to be moved daily to protect the quality of the pasture.”
“Every day?” A structure came into view, still well off in the distance. It was long and squatty. That seemed to be the word for Wyoming. Squatty. Lots of flat, with some hills here and there. Wasn’t Wyoming supposed to have mountains? Calling to mind that map of the United States again, Maisie was almost certain Wyoming had mountains in it. “How far is Jackson Hole from here?”
“A little under seven hours.”
“On horseback?”
“No, car. Why?”
Maisie shrugged, regretting it as her shoulders threatened to spasm. “Is that the barn?” She pointed to the structure she’d spotted earlier.
“Nope.” Drew kept her eyes on the road, not bothering to look. “That’s the house. Then there’s the cow barn, the equestrian barn, the equipment shed, and the corrals.”
Maisie squinted at all of what to her eyes were identical buildings, white and plain. It looked nothing like the ranches she’d seen in travel brochures. When she’d pictured Drew on her ranch over the past few months—not that she’d made a habit of doing that, naturally—it had all been a little grander.
Drew killed the engine of the truck, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. “What’s the matter? No, let me guess. You expected a big mansion with columns in front, and maybe the theme song to Dallas playing in the background as we arrived.” This was followed by another one of those chuckles, but Maisie cringed, thinking the laughter was at her and not with her.
“I… I didnot.”
Okay, maybe she had.
“I bet Florida is looking better and better.” Drew shook her head, though her tone wasn’t unkind. “If you’d listened to me, you wouldn’t be here looking as if your entire life crashed down around you. I don’t know what your fantasy of ranch life was in your head, but here on the Lazy C, we work from dawn to well past dusk, seven days a week.”
“Seven? Even God took a day off.”
“God didn’t have a ranch to run.” Though Drew tried to look stern, there was humor in her tone, and Maisie could tell the observation had amused her. “Look, it’s okay. Not many are cut out for this life, especially not women. You could make things so much easier for everyone by signing the papers.”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,darlin’.” Maisie opened the truck door, practically falling out as her foot missed the running board.
Drew let out a sigh that was half disappointment and halfI told you so, which despite a rush of embarrassment, only made Maisie that much more determined not to let the cocky cowgirl win. “Come on inside first, and warm up. We can unload your car and boxes later.”
Drew led her to the front door of the single-story gray house. She opened the door and motioned for Maisie to enter.
“Not going to carry me over the threshold?” Maisie grumped. Some of her feistiness had returned after Drew’s crack about women not being able to handle ranch life, and it was now her sworn duty to prove her wrong. Somehow.
Breezing past Drew, Maisie stopped on the other side of the door, her senses dulled by an overabundance of bland colors. The walls and tiled floor blended together, making it difficult to discern between the two. Both looked like they’d been painted with a brush dipped in a bowl of oatmeal. Beige carpeting stretched as far as the eye could see. After all the white outside, it felt like more of the same.
“You want some coffee?” Drew asked, not seeming to notice how truly bizarre this house was. Did the Campbells belong to a cult that eschewed all color? Maisie had never seen anything this boring in her life. Even in her rented apartment, she’d managed to keep a bright vase of sunflowers on the kitchen table that had boosted her spirits on difficult days. This place felt like it lacked a soul.
The kitchen had a touch more color, but it wasn’t an improvement. Ancient cream ceramic tile covered the countertops. Every so often were interspersed tiles with blotchy green etchings that were apparently supposed to represent herbs. Maisie hadn’t seen this particular pattern since visiting her great aunt’s house when she was seven.
“The house hasn’t had much of a woman’s touch in well over a decade,” Drew explained, looking embarrassed enough that it was clear she knew exactly what Maisie thought of the place.
“Aren’t you a woman?” Maisie started to laugh but then froze, fearing she’d committed a terrible faux pas. “I’m sorry. I suppose you could be nonbinary, or maybe, well, I don’t know. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that if you are, but… Oh, shit. I should stop talking.”
Maisie’s cheeks burned. She’d completely bungled that interaction to the point even she didn’t know what she was trying to say. It was just, wouldn’t you think something as basic as gender identity would have been the type of thing you discussed with a personbeforeyou got married?
Drew was staring at her in complete befuddlement. “I’m fine with being female, but I’m no Holly Homemaker. I’m a rancher, and if you only know one thing about me, it should be that. I do make good coffee, though. Seems like you might need some.”
“Drew, is that you?” The voice drifted into the kitchen, but it was several more seconds before a faint looking man appeared in the doorway. He was wrapped in an old blue bathrobe, his sunken cheeks and tired eyes hinting at a difficult life. “You the wife?”
“Apparently so. You must be Drew’s grandfather.” Maisie smiled, but from the sudden look of horror on Drew’s face, she realized she’d said something wrong.
“Uh, Maisie, this is my father.”