In the Dust Read online

  In the Dust

  H.L. Swan

  K. August

  COPYRIGHT

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 H.L. Swan / K. August

  All rights reserved

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Acknowledgments

  Acknowledgments

  "The whole damn thing is about decisions. Little, seemingly insignificant decisions that clear the road for monster truck life-altering ones. You see, every path you take leads to another choice, and some choices can change everything. Every damn moment of the rest of your life hangs on them. And, boy, do I got a choice I got to make.”

  - Travis Parker, the choice

  Dedicated to the way that grandparents love us.

  1

  You can’t milk a freaking almond.

  “What will it be?” the antsy barista asks again, her stiletto nails ready to stab the screen for my order.

  My tired eyes sweep over the menu. As much as I’d like to try something different, I’ve always been a creature of habit. “Black coffee with honey.”

  Gina orders her usual, “Matcha latte, please.”

  I sip my bittersweet coffee as Gina and I stroll down New York’s bustling streets.

  Gina’s the whimsical, romantic type. Your quintessential starving artist living in the city, except she isn't starving at all. She owns a beautiful art gallery in a corner space off a busy street.

  She’s the only real friend I’ve made since I moved here. “Are you nervous? You seem nervous.” Gina bumps my shoulder.

  “A little. I mean, is it too soon?”

  She laughs. “Me and Andre moved in together after a week.”

  I nod. “But you and Andre …” I look away. “Y’all are different.”

  “Y’all,” she repeats in a fake southern accent.

  “Seriously, though.” I smile at her.

  She twirls around, drinking in the city life. Her long maxi dress flows out with her languid movements. “This is the city of love, Dixie. Enjoy it.”

  I stifle a laugh. “That’s Paris, G.”

  She grabs my hand. “You two will be just fine. Brad may be a super serious Wall Street type, but your sweet southern charm will be a good contrast to that.”

  I give her an uneasy look when we make it to my door. “Good luck.” She winks as I wave goodbye.

  It’s a small flat that me and three other girls are packed into like sardines. Gina offered for me to live with her, but she’s been in a serious relationship for years now. I didn’t want to stir up her and Andre’s serenity.

  Living in a tuna can in the city is a far cry from the ranch I grew up on, with its sprawling hills and quiet sunrises.

  But hopefully soon I’ll have a small slice of peace. Tomorrow, I’ll be moving in with my boyfriend, Brad. He lives in upstate, so it’s a bit of a drive to school, but an hour and a half commute won’t be too bad since I only have one year left.

  At least I don’t have to worry about the drive just yet. Summer vacation isn’t over.

  I can’t wait to have room to move my legs, and not having to share a bathroom with three other college-aged girls will be a dream come true.

  Plus, the view from his penthouse is beyond words.

  I’m living the stereotypical New York experience: college, a high rise, the suit wearing boyfriend.

  I got everything I wanted when I left Georgia; this is where I’m meant to be.

  A knock sounds on the door. “Dixie, it’s for you!” one of my roommates calls out, huffing in frustration about being pulled away from her studies. I guess that’s one good thing about the girls I live with, even though we’re practically stacked on top of each other; we stay out of the way.

  Brad’s assistant, Valencia, is impatiently waiting on the other side of the door, sucking down a green drink that smells like kale and sadness.

  Oh, how I miss sweet tea. Here, it’s never quite sweet enough.

  “Brad wanted me to drop these off for you.” She smiles, pulling a cart into view with six suitcases stacked on it. “He wanted you to have everything you needed for your move! The moving team is downstairs, too.”

  “How sweet of him! I’ll only need three. I’ve packed a couple already.” Her eyes roam around my tiny apartment, and I’m sure she’s wondering how I have so much stuff. I wonder the same daily.

  Our conversation is interrupted by the ring of my phone. I pull it out and my stomach drops when I see the name flash on the screen: Virginia Payne.

  I look to Valencia with an apologetic frown. “It’ll just be a minute.” I retreat into my tiny room, a million thoughts whirling in my mind as to why Virginia would be calling me.

  I answer, taking in a deep breath, “Hey, Virginia. Is everything okay?”

  “There’s been an accident on the farm.”

  An uneasy feeling settles over me. “Is … is Grandpa, okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s fine.”

  I anxiously start biting my nails. “You don’t sound too certain.”

  “No honey, he’s alright … but he hurt himself.”

  “I can grab the next flight.” I stare at the clothes folded on my bed. “How long should I pack for? … A week?”

  There’s a long pause. Then, “No, Dixie May, you’re going to need to pack for the summer.”

  2

  Colton

  Willow Creek, Georgia. Population: one thousand, seven hundred and forty-three. There are more cows than people, and it’s my favorite place to be.

  “Hey girl.” I walk over to my horse, petting her mane. “You need to stretch your legs?” She waits patiently while I fix the saddle and hop on her. “Good girl, Peaches.”

  Sunset is my favorite time of the day; you just know supper will be ready and the stars will be out not long after.

  I take Peaches out around this time, to let her stretch her legs in the pasture. We ride until her stubbornness presents itself and she hauls me back to the stables, insisting she wants to sleep.

  Today’s been a long one, and before I head home, I dip inside to grab a drink.

  “Hey, Burl.” I walk to the fridge and pull out a cold beer. “Want one?”

  Burl shakes his head, a wide smile making the wrinkles on his face more prominent. “Nah, Colt. I’ve gotta get the loft ready.”

  My fingers curl around the can. “Why?”

  “Dixie’s comin’ home.” His voice is high-pitched, matching the tone of a grandfather who hasn’t seen his granddaughter come home in many moons.

  “Oh.” I try to act cool, leaning against the counter. But just hearing her name makes my heart beat for the first time in years. “Why?”

  He sighs in defeat. “Your momma called her.”

  I set down my beer as a cool chill runs down my spine, my mind traveling to the worst. Why else would she call my ex-girlfriend? “Is m
y momma okay?”

  When Burl doesn’t reply, I reach for my keys. “No, Colt. Sit down.”

  I don’t sit. I can’t. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Nothing. Everyone’s fine. This is why I didn’t want her botherin’ Dixie. You kids worry too much.” He stands, grabbing my beer from the counter and taking a long drag. “You know when I fell off the tractor last week?”

  I nod my head. “Yeah.”

  “Well, when Virginia drove me to the hospital while you wrangled the cattle, they said I fractured my arm in two places. I went back yesterday for a checkup, and I’ll be down until after harvest season.”

  I shrug, “In high school I fractured my arm and was better after a couple weeks.”

  Burl laughs. “Well, Colt, I’m an old man. It takes longer for my bones to heal.”

  Fight or flight kicks in. “Well, I can take care of the farm. She doesn’t have to come here.”

  “I’m not useless, Colt, I just have to take it easy.” A slight smile rises on his face. “Besides, we both know I do more work than you.”

  I nod absentmindedly, my mind on a rollercoaster about Dixie returning.

  Smile lines tighten around his eyes. “You still mad at my granddaughter?”

  “Indifferent.” I shrug.

  He places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. “I appreciate your help, Colt, but you’re one person. Your momma's right. Unless I get free help, I’m going to lose the farm.”

  This summer just got a lot more interesting.

  I look out the screen door as a cloud of dust rolls down the driveway, chasing a fast car. The vehicle comes to a stop in front of the house, next to my old Bronco.

  Dixie steps out, slamming the door. I pause as the breeze catches her chocolate hair and swirls the long strands in front of her face.

  She looks irritated as she walks to the rear of the car and opens the trunk, slapping the hair away when it tries to steal her sight. I watch her struggle for a moment; she’s completely oblivious to my presence.

  She wrestles with a heavy suitcase, and when she finally gets it out of the trunk, it falls into a muddy puddle.

  “Stupid, stupid mud!” she cusses at the wind. “Damnit!”

  “Hey, Peach.”

  She doesn’t turn immediately; her shoulders rise and fall as if she’s preparing herself.

  Finally, she turns around, all freckles and sun kissed skin. “Hi, Colton.” She pulls in a deep breath. “I’ve been here for less than two minutes, and I’ve already ruined all of my clothes.”

  “One suitcase doesn't seem like much for an entire summer.”

  “I’m not staying for the summer, just one week.”

  She flips her hair back, and I have to laugh when I notice her nails are done. “Okay, Dixie May, I’m sure you’ll be able to prepare the farm for harvest season in a week.”

  She doesn't reply. “This is a fancy car,” I tell her, sliding my dirt dusted arm over the pearly white trunk.

  Her face contorts, but she attempts to stretch a smile. “It’s not mine …” She takes one look at her luggage and scowls. “I’ll deal with this later.”

  “Whose is it?” I ask, walking her towards the house.

  I open the old swinging door for her and just like old times, she dips under my arm to go in.

  Her eyes take in the old, rickety door, the cedar wood paneling, anything but me. “My boyfriend rented it for me.”

  3

  Dixie

  I’m not used to the still nights the country has to offer anymore. The constant chatter of the city nightlife and sirens usually lulls me to sleep. I don’t mind the quiet, but this damn rooster that has been crowing since three o'clock this morning is anything but quiet. The slight ache in my forehead makes me feel like I’ve only slept for five minutes. I let out a grumble, rolling onto my side. Stupid rooster.

  ‘Sure, blame the rooster,’ I mumble to myself.

  It’s surprising how difficult it was to fall asleep in the room I grew up in. You would think the gentle sounds of the farm would be calming compared to the sirens and screams of the city.

  I let out a groan when I check my phone. It's already a quarter to five in the morning, which means I only got a couple hours of rest. There's no sense in trying to fall back asleep, especially with my thoughts running wild.

  Operating a farm is the last thing I thought I’d be doing two days ago. I planned on only staying a week, but once I survey all the work that needs to be done here, it may very well be a little longer.

  It'll be like riding a bike, right?

  Shit, I forgot to text Gina. I run my hand down my face before picking my phone back up

  Me: Hey, G. I’m so sorry I forgot to call. It was such a long day. Call me later and I’ll fill you in. XX.

  I let out a sigh as I set my phone back on the side table, trying to muster every ounce of patience I have to deal with a country morning. I always hated waking up early to tend to the farm when I was younger.

  Although, I was quite fond of watching Colton wrangle the cattle. The way his body moved in sync with the galloping horse, his hips rolling back and forth. The way his white t-shirt clung to his sculpted chest.

  Stop right now, Dixie. There's no sense in kicking up settled dust.

  I sit up on the side of the bed, shaking my head to rid myself of the memories of what feels like another life.

  I tip-toe to my bathroom, not remembering the floors being this dang creaky. I wash my hands and face with the lavender scented hand soap. A small smile curls up my lips at the thought of my grandpa remembering one of my favorite scents.

  Turning around, I grab my old pink cotton robe from the hook on the back of the door that I haven’t worn since high school.

  Before I do anything else, I need my coffee. As my hand touches the cool brass of the doorknob, I stop and suck in a deep breath. You can do this, Dixie May.

  My palm gently glides along the railing as I saunter down the stairs into the kitchen. My eyes pan the length of the countertop. “Where is the dang pot?” I ask myself.

  “You lost your draw, Dixie May.”

  “Woah!” I spin, turning to see a shirtless, certain ex-boyfriend leaning against the countertop in nothing but a pair of tight wranglers. His button up is thrown over his shoulder.

  The last person I want to see right now is him.

  “It’s over there.” Colton nudges his head to a small table by the window. “My mom made them a coffee station.”

  “What are you doing here?” I gesture at the clock on the microwave. It’s now five in the morning.

  “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Peach. I work here.”

  “Here?” I whine. “Why didn’t your mom tell me?” Why didn’t Dad tell me?

  “My momma”—he rolls his eyes at my use of ‘mom’—“didn’t tell you because she thought you wouldn’t come if you knew.”

  His fingers curl around a ruby red apple, and he wipes it on his jeans. “You know that’s disgusting, right?” I inform him, but he only shrugs.

  His teeth sink into its sweet flesh. “This? You used to eat em’ straight off the tree, Dixie. What did New York do to you?”

  I roll my eyes, not wanting to deal with him this early.

  Grabbing a black mug from the cupboard, I pour myself a steaming hot cup.

  “Here.” He hands me the honey, brushing his hand against mine and causing a million summer mornings to rush into my mind.

  So much for not kicking up settled dust.

  “Thanks.”

  He leans against the countertop, still holding his mug, his intoxicatingly blue eyes locking on to mine. “Anytime, Dixie May.”

  After my short encounter with Colt, I couldn’t return to my room fast enough. Sitting on the bed, I pull the blanket over my legs and run my fingertips over the intricate stitching.

  It’s just my luck that he works here and no one thought to tell me. Especially after everything.

  A knock at the door interrupt
s my wandering thoughts. “Colton, I swear—”

  “Is that any way to greet your old man, Dixie Norwood?” a gruff voice from the other side of the door answers.

  My head snaps up; I’d know that deep voice anywhere. I quickly stride over to the door and open it. My eyes land on a tall man with a dark five o’clock shadow.

  “Hey, Dad.” I smile.

  “What are you waiting for? The cows to come home?” he chuckles. “Give me a hug, kiddo.”

  I fling my arms around his waist, taking in his fresh, woodsy scent. “I’ve missed you.”

  Dad and Grandpa come to New York to spend some time with me during the holidays. They never stay too long with a farm to run and all, and I’ve missed them so much.

  He steps into the dimly lit room, and we walk over to my bed to sit down. He looks so tired, like he could just dip his head back and fall asleep at any moment. “I wanted to stop in and see if Grandpa or … Colt had explained the day's chores?” He’s staring down at his hands, rubbing them together nervously.

  “I haven’t seen Gramps yet.” I roll my eyes. “I did, however, see Colton. But he didn’t have anything useful to say. So, why haven’t you told me he works here?”

  His eyes dart to mine. “We’ll discuss that later, Dixie. I have my reasons.” He lets out a long sigh. “It’s getting late, and we need to get started on moving the cattle. I’ve already fed the horses; they should be ready for us to ride out. Colt will prepare a horse for you.”