Big Sky

Naturally, Shae spent the night as per "girl code" (so she said) to discuss the situation at hand.

As she attacked my unruly eyebrows with a pair of tweezers, Shae was in the midst of a monologue in which she analyzed every detail of our evening around the campfire. She minced through each word said by all involved parties, especially Jonathan’s invitation for me to join the trail ride. I was thankful she was a kind enough friend to do the one beauty ritual I found most loathsome for me since I couldn't be bothered. However, she was being rather aggressive with the implement, often using forceful plucks to emphasize certain words.

And during her monologue I sat quietly on the edge of my bed, taking Shae's assault. My mind was busy wandering, working through the night from my own perspective. It made sense that Patrick would flirt openly with Shae- her vivacious personality was definitely contagious. Confident men were oft drawn to her assertiveness (once she got over her starstruck nerves), as well as her bright green eyes and long tan legs.

I was skeptical of Shae’s interpretation of the trail ride invite. After my father’s open disapproval of my associating with our guests on any level beyond being their trip coordinator, I realized how right he was. Jonathan seems like a perfectly polite person, and chances are he simply felt compelled to ask. No ulterior motives.

Once Shae backed off from my now tender brows, and was out of range of my eye sockets with tweezers, I voiced my thoughts.

“I really think he just said that out of sheer Canadian politeness. He didn’t seem interested. Plus, I’m basically a glorified tour guide and he’s a professional hockey player with three Stanley Cups. And even if he is, I can’t imagine he wants more than a quick fuck,” I told her as I rubbed some lotion into the reddened parts of my face.

Shae scoffed, “You say that like that would be a bad thing...”

I sent her a scowl through the mirror and a knowing smile appeared on her lips.

“Liza, you couldn’t see the way he was glancing at you when you weren’t looking all night.” She shrugged, “Plus, Kaner told me he wouldn’t stop talking about you before dinner. You need to get over whatever ‘dating’ or ‘self image’ issues you have” she waved her hands around for dramatic effect.

Hoping she wouldn’t notice the pink creeping up my face, I bent down to rifle through some drawers of my dresser.

“I’m confident I’m not his type, and the guy only met me 12 hours ago. I’m sure the beer goggles were helping. There’s just no way he’s genuinely interested,” I intoned the most final sounding voice I possessed, hoping it was clear the matter was closed. Shae pressed her lips together in a tight line. I knew she wanted to press the issue further.

I was relieved when she smiled brightly and launched into a new soliloquy about her plan to get Patrick Kane in bed by the end of the week.

I had no doubt in her abilities. But I was still not convinced on the Jonathan front. I had some serious self-confidence issues when it came to the male species. In high school, I had been tall, awkward and ate, breathed and dreamed rodeo. As you can imagine, boys took very little interest in me and I took even less in them. In college, I had dated, and even hooked up with a few guys but felt that I didn’t have time for a very serious relationship. I poured my heart and soul into my schoolwork and it was a very convenient excuse to push suitors away. That being said, I just felt as though I was 22 years old and I had never found someone I wanted to be with.

Suddenly exhausted, I turned the light off on Shae, who was busy braiding her hair in my mirror. With a huff, she plopped down on the other side of my bed. Even though I knew she wouldn’t be convinced, I pretended to fall asleep almost immediately so she wouldn’t bring Jonathan up again.



The next day, my dad insisted that I drove to a ranch that was nearby (by the standards of Montana) to look at some cattle that he was interested in potentially buying. Somewhat thankful for the excuse to avoid the whole trail ride entirely, I happily took my time chatting with our “neighbors” and caught up about ranching and their children whom I went to grade school with.

I didn’t return home until nearly 6 o’clock, fortunately too late to meet up with the group on the trails. I wandered into the barn, knowing it would be time to feed the horses soon. I could always help Mason feed to prolong any other interactions, until my phone vibrated in my pocket.

Shae texted me: Ur dad told me to ask u to bring up the cows from down by Wilder…should only be 20min ride

Wilder was the name of a creek on that cut through our property, and indeed was a 20 minute ride from the house. I rolled my eyes at my father’s characteristic avoidance of technology and my best friend that was no doubt loitering at my house still, eating our food.

Remi was already at the gate, fairly impatient for his grain. Pulling him from the pasture, I allowed him to take a few more mouthfuls of grass since his dinner would be delayed. I saddled him quickly, wanting to get the cows home so Remi and I could eat. There were still a good couple hours of daylight left, but I wanted to get back as soon as possible.

Taking off at a ground-covering canter, I let Remi have a long rein and zoned out on my way down to the creek, hoping the cows would cooperate.

The creek was in a narrow, rocky pass between two foothills. There was a good patch of grazing land down there, right along the water that the cows frequented. It didn’t look like much until you got past the bend in the trail that led to the creek, but it opened up significantly on the other side of the hill. From up the embankment, there were beautiful, endless views to the horizon. It was one of my favorite places in the world.

However, coming through the bottleneck of the pass, I realized that instead of cows, there were several horses, and nearby, four young men and our familiar trail master finishing a meal of chili and cornbread from pans over a popping campfire. It dawned on me that there are no cows at all down here, and Shae orchestrated the whole thing, probably coordinating with the guide, to find out that they would be stopping for supper here. I should have suspected Shae might be up to something, considering the boys didn’t appear to be back yet.

For a moment, I thought I could turn Remi around and just leave without being noticed, until Andrew Shaw had spotted me, waving and shouting, “howdy stranger!” in a bad southern accent.

After a brief internal battle, I clucked to Remi and sent him further down the trail, towards the group.

As I got closer, a visibly exhausted Patrick pleaded, “Please tell me you have some aspirin.”

Grinning, I shook my head no. “Get a little sore on your first ride, Mr. Kane?”

He groaned and covered his face with his baseball cap, flopping back dramatically. “Well, in case hockey hadn’t taken care of it, I’m definitely not going to be fathering any kids now,” he bemoaned.

“He’s been bitching for the last two hours,” said Keith through a mouth full of cornbread. “Want some?” he pointed to the pan.

I giggled, and jumped down from Remi. Grabbing a hunk of cornbread from the pan, I sat down by the trail guide to ask how the ride was and if he wanted any maintenance done on the trails. For a moment, we caught up about his family and various other goings-on at the ranch.

Our conversation was interrupted by the bleating voice of Patrick Kane, literally begging to go back to the cabins. A series of “ya big pussy” and related insults were muttered, but everyone stood up, silently agreeing it was time to go home. Mounting Remi again, I avoided Jonathan’s acknowledgment to the best of my ability.

Gingerly getting back on their horses, the guys turned to follow the trail guide the way I had come.

I had a different idea. Figuring since I was down here, I might as well appreciate the sunset from my favorite vantage point.

Instead of going back towards home, I pointed Remi up the hillside. He picked his way carefully, winding upward. Allowing my sweaty horse to rest at the top of the steep hill, I was alarmed to hear the skittering of loose rock and a horse’s footfalls from behind me.

Guard raised, I called out, “Who’s there?”

“Just me,” a voice called back. My heartrate lurched again when I saw that it was Jonathan. He looked fairly confident on horseback, a surprising attribute. I couldn’t help but notice the deep tan to his skin and the shine of sweat on his arms. But still, I was confused by his presence and a bit annoyed that I had been followed.

“What are you doing?” I asked, perhaps sounding a bit too defensive because his mouth took on a hard line and his jaw tensed.

I softened my tone, “Sorry, I just didn’t know I was being followed.”

Relaxing, he said, “Didn’t mean to scare you, kind of just wanted to see where you were going.”

Smiling a bit at his curiosity, I explained, “This is one of my absolute favorite spots in the world, especially when the sun is setting. The sky just has a way of making you feel small.”

He nodded and looked off to the west, taking in the saturated colors of the vast sky, a gradient of orange, yellow and pale blues, and the peaks of distant mountains purple against the washes of color. You could easily see for upwards of a hundred miles, the sky seeming to never end.

After a few moments, he said, “I see why you like it.” He turned his attention back to me, “It’s beautiful.”

Nervously, I looked down and fiddled with Remi’s mane, “When I was younger my mom used to come out here with me and tell me stories about the painters of the sky, and how each night they tried to make the sunset more beautiful than the last.”

I glanced up at Jonathan, who was looking back at me, the intensity of his face making me feel silly.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” I looked back down at Remi, who was peacefully napping.

“Your mom sounds like a great woman.”

“She was,” I said, trying to resist the tears that were threatening to fill my eyes. “She passed away in a car accident 7 months ago.”

He frowned, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring it up.”

“It’s okay, really. She’d be happy I told you about the painters,” I laughed. “I’m sorry for getting all emotional on you.”

He smiled back, “I’m sorry for intruding on your personal moment.”

I shook my head and repeated,“It’s really okay.” Wanting to change the subject and feeling emboldened, I said, “You look pretty good on a horse for a city boy, Mr. Toews.”

He chuckled, “I’ve ridden horses a fair amount on vacations and stuff like that.” With a rogue grin, he added, “Kaner and Shaw though? I’m not sure about them.”

After another small fit of laughter at the thought of Patricks’s evident misery today, he said, “And call me Jon, or Jonathan or really anything besides Mr. Toews. That’s my dad.”

Feeling awkward again, I broke the silence. “Well… we should get back,” I said, and started back down the hill before Jon could say anything. The sky had turned dusky with the sun mostly disappeared behind the horizon, but there was enough light to make it back before it went pitch black.

Riding home in mostly silence, my mind reeled, remembering the conversation from the previous night with Shae. Maybe she had a point; maybe he was actually interested.

Even so, he was going to leave in less than a week, and I wasn’t about to be a good romp in the hay for a celebrity athlete. I was resolute in keeping my distance.