Swift and Saddled: A Rebel Blue Ranch Novel

I heard Dusty’s old black Ford Bronco before I saw it. That thing was fucking loud, and it always had been. As it rolled up to Gus’s house, I could hear Led Zeppelin over the sound of the engine.

Gus’s house was a white two-story at the west end of Rebel Blue. He built it right before Emmy left for college, so about ten years ago. He’s got a good setup—the house has four bedrooms and is far enough away from everything else on the ranch that it really feels like his.

Brooks, Gus, and I were sitting in Gus’s front yard shooting the shit when Dusty walked over. He looked the same as when I last saw him—just a little older.

All three of us stood up to give him a “Hey, man” and a handshake.

“What the hell took you so long?” I asked.

“Your dad sent me down to the old Big House,” Dusty said with a shrug.

“What? Why?” That was weird.

“He said you guys were down there,” Dusty said, and then turned to Gus. “Riley’s getting big.”

Gus ran a hand through his hair, which for once wasn’t covered by a hat. “Yeah, she is. I’m trying not to think about it, though.” Gus shook his head. “But when did you see her? Cam should’ve picked her up already.”

Something flashed across Dusty’s eyes. “Cam was down at the old Big House. It’s girls’ night down there, apparently.”

Gus nodded. “That’s good, she needs a break.” Gus grabbed a beer out of the cooler and threw it to Dusty, who caught it easily. “Drink up, we’re jousting tonight.”

Cowboy joust was Gus and Luke’s favorite thing to do when we were hanging out—probably because they were really fucking good at it. As soon as the ropes were out, they turned into teenagers—extremely competitive teenagers.

The rules were simple. Each person was given a lasso rope. You face off with another person, run toward each other, and try to rope your opponent’s legs. The harder they biff it, the better.

Tonight, it was Dusty and me against Brooks and Gus, as usual. I think Dusty and I had won maybe four times in our entire lives against that duo. It wasn’t because they were better ropers—it was because they talked so much shit that they got into our heads.

We played for points. If you successfully roped your opponent’s legs but they didn’t fall, you got one point. If they stumbled and then fell, two points. If it was a clean lasso and you were able to pull their feet out from under them, you got three.

First team to thirty points won.

To start, it would be me against Gus. We stood about fifteen feet apart, not far enough apart that I couldn’t see his stupid cocky smile.

I swear, the only things that could make Gus smile were Riley and the chance to kick my ass at something.

“You ready to lose, little brother?” he asked. His eyes were glinting.

In true middle-child fashion, the only response I could think of was “Shut up,” which made Gus laugh.

“Loser chugs the rest of their beer?” he asked.

“Done.”

Luke gave us the go-ahead, and we started running toward each other. I whipped my lasso above my head and immediately aimed for Gus’s feet. When I threw the lasso, he jumped over it and threw his right as we passed each other. I tried to jump over it, but I ended up jumping into it. He pulled it tight, and I stumbled, fell, and hit the dirt.

“Two points!” Brooks called.

“No shit,” I called back, still on the ground, looking up at the sky that was changing from blue to pink. I sat up and unwrapped Gus’s rope from around my feet. Gus reached his hand out to me, and I took it.

I walked back over to Brooks, who handed me my beer, reminding me that losers chug.

Brooks and Dusty were next, and even though Dusty got his rope around one of Brooks’s ankles, Brooks was too damn fast and pulled his rope right around both of Dusty’s legs, and he went down immediately.

At least Dusty and I got a point.

When it was time for me to go against Brooks, he said, “If I win, you have to tell us what’s going on with you and Ada.”

“The designer?” Dusty asked.

“Nothing is going on,” I started, but Brooks cut me off.

“I’ve been there before. I said that too, and I was full of shit, so.” Brooks shrugged. “I don’t believe you.”

Really, nothing was going on. Well, something was going on, but I didn’t know what it was, and whether it would ever be what I wanted it to be.

So there wouldn’t be much to tell him, anyway.

“Fine,” I said.

The difference between Brooks and Gus when it came to their competitive edge was that Gus wanted to win at any cost and wanted to win big, while Brooks wanted to win but was willing to give up a few points along the way, which always lured me into a false sense of security. When I got my lasso around his feet, I relaxed, and that was a big mistake. I got so focused on making him fall that I didn’t notice that he hadn’t thrown yet. He didn’t try to lasso my feet. Instead, he threw his lasso right where I was running, and as soon as I stepped in, he pulled it tight, and I went down.

Again.

It was his signature move, and it got me every fucking time.

To be fair, he went down after I did, but he still got more points.

Both of us were on the ground and Brooks was laughing—a big, hearty laugh that had started appearing more often after he and Emmy got together. We got up and made our way over to the chairs on Gus’s front lawn for a break.

“All right, then, Wes,” he said. “Start talking.” We were sitting around Gus’s fire pit, but there was no fire going. We’d probably start one after the sun had set.

“I don’t know, guys.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I like her.”

“Obviously,” Gus said.

“Does she like you back?” Dusty asked.

I said, “I think so,” at the same time Brooks said, “Yes.” Dusty looked at us in turn.

“I caught them making out at the bar,” Brooks said. Jesus Christ. People thought that the older women in Meadowlark were the biggest gossips. Well, them and Teddy’s dad, Hank, but Luke Brooks and his big fucking mouth had all of them beat. It was a miracle that he’d been able to keep his and Emmy’s relationship a secret for so long.

“I didn’t even know her then,” I said. “But now that I do, I like her a lot. She’s whip-smart and funny and she works so fucking hard. And I think she likes me too, but I don’t think she wants to, and that’s what sucks.”

“Woof” is all Dusty said.

I looked at Brooks. “What did you do?”

Brooks looked confused. “What do you mean? About what?”

“With Emmy. I mean, you two used to hate each other. What changed?” Brooks smiled, and his face took on that dopey look that it got whenever someone talked about Emmy.

“Everything,” he said. “Everything changed the day Emmy came home, but I think, without really knowing it, both of us just started giving each other pieces of ourselves, and then we realized we wanted to keep them. Forever.”

Gus was looking at Brooks thoughtfully. When it first came out that Brooks and Emmy were together, Gus didn’t take it well. I don’t think it was really because he didn’t want them to be together, but because two of the people he loved the most felt like they had to lie and hide their relationship from him.

But the reason didn’t change the fact that Gus didn’t handle it well. Brooks walked away with a black eye and Gus walked away with a whole lot of guilt that I don’t think he was over quite yet.

“I think the turning point was when I took her to my secret place,” Brooks said. “Maybe you could do something like that?”

“Wait,” Gus interrupted. “You have a secret place? What secret place?”

“Well, if I told you about it, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it!” Brooks countered.

“But Emmy knows about it.” Gus sounded genuinely offended.

“Yeah, so?”

“So why don’t I know about it?”

“Because it’s a secret, Gus.”

“But I’m your best friend.” My brother folded his arms over his chest. Jesus Christ, these two.

“And Emmy is the love of my life!” Brooks exclaimed, shooting Gus an exasperated look.

That point was hard for Gus to argue with, but he muttered, “I still think I should know about the secret place,” under his breath.

“Okay, I hate to break up the lovers’ quarrel,” Dusty interjected, “but we’re talking about Wes here.” He nodded at me, and Brooks and Gus suddenly seemed to remember that I was there.

“Yeah, we’re talking about me here,” I said.

“Do you want my advice?” Dusty asked. Dusty was a good guy—noncommittal, but a good guy—so I nodded.

“At the end of the day, if she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you, and you should respect that.” I was ninety-nine percent sure she did like me, but I understood what he was saying. “But if she does like you,” he continued, “try doing things that let her know you’ve been thinking about her—that she’s been on your mind. Keep it simple.”

I constantly thought about her. The way she smelled—like a fucking sugar cookie. The way she bit the inside of her lip when she was thinking, or the way she always sat cross-legged whether she was on the floor or on a chair or the couch. It didn’t matter.

Ada wasn’t just “on my mind,” she was in it—in every nook and cranny.