Chapter 42 The Deal is Done
The loading bay supervisor, a jittery man in a yellow vest, was waiting with a clipboard in hand when they arrived. Ryder cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening.
“Sage Ranch?” the man asked, his voice tight. “You’re late. We had you scheduled for five.”
“Rig broke down outside Barstow. Had to transfer to this truck," Ryder explained curtly. Sierra scrambled out, her weary muscles protesting, and moved to the back of the trailer with Ryder and the supervisor. The air inside the truck was violently cold, carrying the faint, clean scent of fresh, high-quality beef. The bay supervisor grabbed the digital thermometer hanging on the inside wall of the cooling unit and plunged the probe into the dense insulation of the closest box.
They waited, breathing clouds of white vapor in the refrigerated air, the silence stretching taut.
The thermometer beeped. “Thirty degrees Fahrenheit,” he announced, his voice flat with forced calm. “Well within acceptable parameters.”
He flipped through the logs Sierra had produced.
“Everything checks out. The temperature was maintained. Looks like you pulled off a miracle.”
Sierra felt the tension snap inside her. It wasn’t just a simple relief; it was a physical, dizzying rush of triumph mingled with the sudden, debilitating exhaustion that had been held at bay by pure adrenaline. They had done it.
Ryder didn’t look triumphant; he simply looked spent.
“Let’s go, Si,” Ryder said, climbing back into the driver’s seat.
The trip back started in the heavy grind of traffic, but as they cleared the sprawling metropolis and headed east, the road opened up again, returning them to the embrace of the desert.
Sierra watched Ryder drive, his posture still rigid, his eyes focused. He had been awake for well over twenty-four hours, pushing himself to the limit in a way she had to admit she admired.
“You should sleep,” she murmured, her voice thick with fatigue.
He didn’t turn his head. “Later. Someone has to keep this beast on the road.”
“I can drive for a bit,” she offered, though the thought of maneuvering the massive rig terrified her.
He offered a slight, tired smile. “Not a good idea.”
Despite her concern for him, she couldn’t fight off the deep, dreamless sleep that overcame her. When she awakened, they were pulling into a dusty, roadside lot next to a diner.
“You hungry?” Ryder asked as he cut the engine.
Sierra stretched, feeling marginally better, but the exhaustion was still a dull throb beneath her skin. Ryder looked worse. His eyes were bloodshot, and the stubble on his jaw was dark and thick.
Inside the diner, they took a booth by the window, the interior smelling of syrup and old grease.
“Seriously, Ryder, you need to sleep,” she insisted as he gulped down the first mug of coffee like water.
“I’ll sleep when we get home,” he dismissed, waving her concern away with a large hand. “We’re too close to take any chances. If I stop now, I may not wake up until sometime next week.”
“So,” she began, leaning forward, trying to sound energetic. “I guess I owe you more than just a truck rental fee.”
He looked up with his mouth full. “We’ll settle up later, Si. Eat.”
“No, I mean, I owe you an explanation,” she continued, the words tumbling out unexpectedly. “About abandoning the ranch.”
“You don’t owe me an explanation, Si,” he said.
In spite of what she said, when they were back in the truck, she realized that she wanted to give him one anyway.
“Manhattan,” she began as Ryder guided the truck back into the eastbound lane of Interstate 40. “It is loud, it is expensive, and it was everything I thought I wanted. I became a junior partner at twenty-eight. Sterling & Quinn. Sounds grand, right? The youngest to ever make partner in that cutthroat world.”
She paused, taking a shaky breath. “But the truth is, I poured myself into it because I was running. I was running from the stillness back home, from the silence that came after… after Mom died. The ranch was just the centerpiece of that silence.”
Ryder listened, his expression softening only marginally, yet his absolute attention was more nurturing than any verbal comfort.
“My firm doesn’t sell cattle. We sell desire. We sell the idea that if you buy this luxury car, or wear a specific watch, you will be successful, you will be safe, and you will be admired. Smoke and mirrors. Manufactured needs. I was always good at it, frighteningly good. I could spin anything into gold, convince anyone of anything.”
She looked down at her work-worn hands, noticing the remnants of dirt under her fingernails, a sharp contrast to the flawless manicure she usually sported.
“I was always chasing the next big win to validate who I was. Because if I was a success story, if I had that corner office overlooking Central Park, then maybe the pain of losing Mom, the fear that Dad would follow, the overwhelming burden of the ranch… maybe it would all go away.”
“Guess I sold the manufactured need to myself, Ryder. I believed all of it. The clothes, the clientele, the reputation. I was so convinced that leaving here and becoming that person was the only way to survive. And I thought I had to sever the last tie to a past that hurt.”
“It sounds lonely,” he finally said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.
She felt a swift prickle of tears in her eyes, not of sadness, but of recognition. “It was,” she whispered. “Terribly lonely. You’re the first person I’ve told that to. The real details, I mean. Not the sanitized version I fed Cody and Dad.”
He accepted her confession without judgment. He didn’t try to fix her or offer platitudes. He simply acknowledged the depth of her effort and the cost of her escape.
“Thank you for telling me, Si,” he said, the words simple but laden with meaning.
She felt a dizzying wave of intimacy wash over her. She couldn’t believe she had just laid the foundation of her entire adult life bare for him, the stoic cowboy she had initially viewed as an obstacle, a painful reminder of everything she wanted to forget.
They arrived at the Sage Ranch just as the afternoon sun was beginning its slow descent.
Ryder pulled the refrigerated truck up behind his own pickup. Exhaustion settled on them both like a physical weight. Sierra climbed down from the cab and came around to the driver’s side.
“See you in the morning,” Ryder yawned, rubbing the back of his neck as he turned toward his pickup. “I need about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, starting about five minutes ago.”
“Go,” Sierra urged, a genuine smile gracing her tired face. “Thank you.”
A quick nod was all the goodbye they needed. Sierra watched his pickup disappear down the dusty track before finally dragging herself inside the quiet ranch house. She didn’t even make it to the shower, collapsing fully clothed onto her childhood bed. She sank into a blissful, exhausted oblivion.