On the Fence

Chapter 1

"This has to be a mistake. You're Taylor?" I looked at the man standing before me, gawking at me like I shouldn't exist.

"That is my name, Mr. Simmons. Taylor Lundsen."

"But you're a woman!" I laughed a little, looking at the ground for a moment before looking back up at the man.

"You're very observant," I teased in a light tone.

He chuckled and reached up to rub his neck in a nervous gesture, while his other one held the contract I had signed and sent into them for the position of a ranch hand.

He sighed and dropped his arms to his side, saying, "Well, I guess you better follow me. I'll need to talk with Mr. Bailey about this problem."

"Am I a problem, Mr. Simmons?" He gave another laugh and smirked at me for a second.

"Ranch hands are men only around these parts, especially here on Bridlewood Ranch."

"I can carry my own, Mr. Simmons, I assure you," I tried to reassure him.

A slight grimace crossed his face as he looked at me and rubbed his neck again.

"It's less about that and more about the facilities Ms. Lundsen. The bunk house isn't set up for men and women. It's just complicated, and the culture around this ranch has been men only for so long, other than the cook, that you may find it a bit," he groaned out a labored sigh and finished, "Crass."

I smiled at the handsome man who stood before me. He had cropped brown hair and green eyes that seemed like they were usually full of humor, attractive features, and a general sense of good-naturedness about him. If I had to guess, I'd say he was close to me in age, though perhaps a few years older.

"Well, first things first, Mr. Simmons, let's go talk with the boss and see what he wants to do about it. My understanding was that the contract was already signed and binding?" His eyebrows went up, and he sighed as he nodded his head as if to say, 'yup, there's that.'

"Well, come on then," he said, motioning for me to follow him.

I dropped my duffle bag at the edge of the stairs leading up to the wrap-around porch of the ranch house and followed him up and into the front door. We walked through a parlor, and he knocked on a door with a plaque that read, 'Zeke Bailey.'

"Enter," a man answered. Mr. Simmons opened the door and moved into the room far enough to allow me to step inside.

"Mr. Bailey, Taylor Lundsen has arrived to start." Mr. Bailey was facing away from us and didn't seem very interested in looking away from the papers in his hand.

"That's fine. Show him to the bunk house and give him a tour before you get him started on his duties."

"Mr. Bailey, there's been a bit of a misunderstanding," Mr. Simmons said, trying to get the man's attention.

He still didn't look up from his papers as he answered, "What kind of misunderstanding?"

I laughed and answered for him, "The kind that complicates your bunkhouse, apparently."

Mr. Bailey's face shot up toward me instantly, and he stood up straight, turning to face me. He had short blonde hair and hazel eyes and was wearing an expensive tailored suit, cut in a Western-style, that would look very nice with the Stetson I noticed hanging on a peg on the wall across from me.

He set the papers he had been reading down on his desk, staring at me.

"You're Taylor?"

I laughed again and said, "I'm not sure why everyone keeps doubting that, but yes. I'm Taylor Lundsen, your new ranch hand."