Rider’s Block

4. Chapter Four

Chapter four

“Chicken Fried,” Zac Brown Band

M y inability to keep up with multiple conversations at once could be seen as a flaw for my occupation, but I like to think of it as an acknowledgment that I do best when I can hone in on a situation and glean out all of the details.

But this dinner table is about to do me in. It’s lively, it’s comfortable, it’s relational… and it’s absolutely isolating all at once.

A few minutes after all of the men came in, a few girls trickled in as well, and those who were couples started to naturally pair off and sit down next to each other. Having been one of those girls who used to show up and couple up, I feel a bit off-kilter sitting down by myself. You’d think after four years I’d be used to it, but old habits die hard I guess.

I involuntarily find myself seated across from Eric. He doesn’t look up from his plate unless he’s directly addressed, so I’m spared from his hate gaze until Nancy speaks up and—to my absolute horror—decides to introduce me to everyone.

“Now that you’re a little more settled in I want to introduce everyone to you,” Nancy says, getting the attention of everyone at the table. “Everyone, this is Amelia, she’s Olivia’s friend and she’ll be staying with us for the summer. She also made the mashed potatoes tonight, so she’s already pulling her weight.” I don’t bother correcting her that I’ll likely only be here for a month, but I accept the grunts of affirmation that my mashed potatoes passed some test.

Nancy proceeds to introduce everyone at the table, and they all dip their hats in acknowledgment. Most of the guys are in cowboy hats, but some are in baseball caps with logos that all look like brands of some kind. The only time anyone removed their head coverings was when Nancy’s husband, George, said grace.

The girls all seemed nice enough, and a few of them promised to show me around town on one of their off days. One of the girls sitting closer to me went out of her way to include me in the conversations happening around me.

“So Nancy mentioned you’re here from California? You kind of look the part with that strawberry-blonde hair of yours.”

“The sun took care of that for me, but I don’t mind it.” And then realizing I couldn’t remember her name I silently lean over. “Could you remind me of your name? I’m ashamed to say I’m pretty horrible with remembering people’s names and the roll call today was kind of long.”

“Ask all you want! We’re a rowdy bunch and it’ll likely take you a while to get everyone down, but I’m Christine, and this…” she says, nudging the guy next to her “…is my husband, Trevor, he’s one of the Randalls.”

“Isn’t everyone here a Randall?”

“Oh, heavens no, there are only three of the boys here that are sons, the rest are helping hands, some neighbors, and I think Max over there is a cousin, but now that I say that out loud I think I might be wrong.” She nudges Trevor again, who’s talking to one of the guys, and asks, “Is Max a cousin?”

Trevor pauses, food in his mouth before finally saying, “You know, I don’t know. I’m sure he is because Mom always says it, but I’m not sure how now that I come to think of it.”

Knowing that there’s a distinction between the guys, I can start to tell the set of brothers apart. Trevor looks just like Eric. He’s a little younger, slightly shorter, but other than that their similarities are almost unnerving. I scan the table to see if I can spot the last sibling and find him sandwiched between two girls who are practically draped over him, begging for attention. He’s also a little shorter than Eric, but just like Trevor the relation is undeniable.

I get caught in my staring when he looks up. He’s not too far away, so he unnecessarily raises his voice to say, “Miss Amelia, on behalf of my asshole of a brother over here, I’d like to apologize.” He tips his hat for emphasis. I didn’t know that was a for-real type of gesture, but there it was, out in the wild.

“Apologize for what?” I don’t know what I’m walking into, but I can’t disagree that his brother is an asshole from what I’ve seen so far. An attractive one, but that’s irrelevant.

“He didn’t tell us how pretty you are, and that’s a shame.” I blush as the girls next to him immediately scowl in my direction. Awesome. I just love pissing off people before I even get to know them. “You’re here for research, yeah?” I nod but before I can vocally answer he adds, “I’d be happy to show you around. You came right in the middle of busy season so there’s plenty for me to show you.”

“Oh, that’s alright, I don’t want to intrude on anything, I’m just here to explore the towns, go to some events—”

“There’s nothing better than firsthand experience though, am I right?” His smirk is two steps away from being trustworthy. I feel like I’m walking into a trap, and I don’t know how to back out of it.

“Dean, stop giving her shit. She’s barely adjusting as it is at a table like this,” Christine pipes in for me with a good-humored reprimand.

“I’m just being friendly.” Dean acts affronted, but with a mischievous upturn to his lips.

“You’re flirting and you know it. Give Amelia at least a week before you hit on her, alright?” Christine holds no punches back and if I hadn’t already determined that I liked her, I’d want to be her best friend for that alone.

“Can I at least call you Mia?” Dean directs the conversation back to me. I can’t help the slight outburst of a laugh that leaves me, and immediately any tension that existed at the table relaxes.

“You can, but I can’t promise I’ll answer to it.”

“Challenge accepted.” Dean winks at me again before turning into a friendly smile. All bravado, this one, but ultimately harmless.

I smile back down at my plate but feel the itch on the back of my neck that generally means I’ve got eyes on me. Sure enough, when I sneak a glance across the table, Eric is giving me a hard stare that I have no idea how to interpret. In an attempt to avoid any unwanted interaction with the crankiest of the Randall siblings, I turn back to Christine.

“What did Dean mean by busy season? I thought ranching was kind of a year-round thing.”

“Oh, it is, but there are different seasons for different tasks. When the weather is warm like this, it means we squeeze in a lot while we can. It’s also when all the fairs and rodeos are, so there will be a lot of qualifying rodeos leading up to the big one. And, while there’s no snow on the ground, everyone tends to hustle to fix anything that last year’s weather broke.”

“What’s the big rodeo?”

“The brothers are in the PRCA, so they have to travel the circuit before qualifying to get to the NFR in Vegas. There’s always at least one Randall in Vegas a year, but it’s a hell of a climb to get there.”

“Those are a lot of acronyms I’m going to have to look up later. Are they bull riders?”

“God no.” Christine scoffs, then seeing my confused face she elaborates. “Bull riding is… flashy. There’s a lot of skill in it, but not much practical use, and that was George’s one request if the boys were going to get into rodeoing, right, Trevor?”

Trevor once again breaks conversation with whatever guy he was talking to and looks at his wife. It’s kind of cute. This is the second time she’s interrupted him, and he looks pleased as punch to get to talk to her. “Yep. Dad had one rule, if we were going to join the rodeo circuit, we had to pick something we could use on the ranch.”

“Have you ever been to a rodeo?” Christine asks, and I don’t want to answer. I shake my head lightly and hear a very distinct scoff across from the table. I turn to see Eric listening in on the conversation. I have to control my responding eye roll. What is with this guy?

“I can’t say that I have, I’ve looked up videos and watched some movies, but I haven’t seen anything live.”

To her credit, Christine doesn’t disparage me for it and once again I find she’s earning my implicit trust. “We’ll have to fix that.” She pats my hand and continues eating her meal, looping me into conversation where applicable, and I go the rest of the dinner without much incident.

Eric still periodically looks in my direction, but the disdain radiating off of him is just rude. Everyone else at the table is friendly, clearly comfortable and at home. It’s a big family.

But I’m inclined to agree with Dean’s offhanded comment about Eric being an asshole. He has yet to prove otherwise, and I doubt he will.