“No, by Walt.” I laughed at Lauren’s shocked expression.
“The man I met in the office yesterday? Your head wrangler?”
I didn’t realize how odd it sounded until I saw her reaction.
“Yep. He cuts Tyler’s hair, too.” When my brothers and I were little kids, Walt buzzed our hair every summer. Somehow, he got into the routine of cutting it for us during the school year, too, when my father allowed us to grow it out a little longer. As an adult living in Cheyenne, I went to a proper barber, but then I moved back to the ranch two years ago and Walt offered to cut my hair again.
She studied my face. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
“I’m serious. It’s an hour round trip into town, so it’s easier to let him do it. Maybe you should have him give you a fresh cut while you’re here.”
I liked the rich, throaty sound of her laugh. “Yeah, right. I have to say, your hair looks very nice. Walt does good work.”
My neck turned pink under her gaze. “Well, thank you, ma’am.”
She shifted in her seat so she was no longer looking my way. “What’s your brother the veterinarian like?”
“Sam’s the comedian of the family,” I said. “He’s the knuckle-headed youngest kid who always loved making everyone laugh. He’s also a damn fine vet, and an asset to this community, honestly. But don’t tell him I said that. He already has a swelled head. I think you’ll like him, that is, if he’s around the office today.”
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized Sam used humor to defuse the tension between our father and our brother Bowie. Dad was a rather domineering figure, and Bowie reacted to that like a rattlesnake backed into a corner. Things didn’t get really bad until Bowie was in high school and truly embraced the role of teen rebel. My reaction was to be the perfect eldest son, doing everything I could to please our parents and keep the peace. My sister Faith relied on her boyfriends to rescue her from the arguments at our house, and Sam told jokes. Good times.
“What do you want to do with the rest of your day when we get back to the ranch?” I asked. “You’ll have the afternoon ahead of you. Maybe a trail ride or a hike?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Maybe. I’m still nervous about getting on a horse.”
I wanted to tread gently but still encourage her. “I think you’ll find that it’s like riding a bike. It will come back to you.”
She dipped her chin and stared at me. “My older son recently had a biking accident and broke his wrist.”
“Okay, maybe that was a poor example.”
She looked out the window for a few minutes before saying, “I used to be adventurous in my youth, believe it or not. I always loved swimming out into the breakers in the ocean, and I even hiked on the Appalachian Trail with my college boyfriend.”
“So, what happened to that girl?” I asked.
She exhaled. “I got married and had children, and it felt like someone had to stop doing all the things that could potentially get them injured or killed.”
“Is your husband a daredevil?” I asked.
“He races sailboats and likes fast cars.” Her expression turned grim. “I guess I kind of became a killjoy, which probably wasn’t much fun for him. I’ve changed a lot since we first met.”
There was obviously more to that relationship story, but I certainly wasn’t going to pry. “We’ve all changed since our twenties. Parenthood will definitely do that to you. You can’t avoid all risks, though.” I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. “I told you my parents died in a random car accident, and one of my friends was killed in a freak electrical accident a few years ago. He was forty years old.”
She reached over and touched my arm. “That’s terrible, Matthew. I can’t say this conversation makes me less scared of riding a horse though.”
“My point is that you’re at risk simply by being alive, no matter how small you make your world. I think it’s better to live a full life, using good sense about your choices, obviously. Riding can be dangerous, but we can give you a gentle horse and a helmet, and you’d be with a guide. I think that’s a risk worth taking.”
“Right.” She turned to look out her window. “I guess you have a point. I’d like to ride again. I used to love it as a kid.”
“How old are your children?” I didn’t always ask my guests so many personal questions, but the more I found out about Lauren, the more I wanted to know.
“They’re in their twenties. Fully grown and out in the world. So if I get thrown by a mechanical bull while I’m out here, then I guess they’ll be fine.”
“I wasn’t planning bull riding just yet,” I said through my laughter, “but it’s good to know you’re up for anything.”
She chuckled and leaned her head on her window. “I’ve been so exhausted. Mostly, I’m hoping to get my energy back this week.”
She might think a spa was the best way to re-energize, but in my opinion she needed some joy in her life. As the owner and manager of a guest ranch in one of the most beautiful places in America, I could definitely provide the opportunities to find that joy. It was up to her whether she let herself experience it.
