For Them, We Must

Acknowledge my part.

"And you're telling me you can't get us the trucks until after the first?" Oakley asked the guy she had been on the phone with for the last twenty minutes.

"No ma'am," The guy said. "We've been booked up solid down in Texas and even Kansas is earlier this year."

"The first will put us back by a week," Oakley told him.

"I can try and get you two trucks by the last week in April," The guy said. "But I can't make any promises on that."

"Alright, I understand," Oakley nodded. "Thank you."

She hung up and rubbed her eyes. A knock on the door made Oakley look up to see Rip standing there. His face didn't look good though.

"I can't do more bad news, Rip," Oakley told him.

"Well...I have to tell someone and you're the only one on the pay log that this can go to," Rip said as he stepped inside Oakley's office.

"Did someone die?" Oakley asked.

"Uh...no," Rip said.

"Then what?" Oakley leaned back in her chair.

"We need to get rid of a hand," Rip told her.

"We can't afford to get rid of a hand," Oakley said. "Why do we need to get rid of a hand?"

"Because he ain't cut out for this," Rip said.

"Which one?" Oakley asked.

"Eric," Rip took his sunglasses off finally.

Oakley thought for a second.

"He came last fall," Rip told her. "Bad mustache."

"Oh," Oakley remembered now. "Why isn't he cut out for this?"

"Oakley," Rip glanced down. "I need to get rid of Eric and I'm telling you that he ain't cut out for this. So I just need you to nod your head and let me handle it."

Oakley felt a bad feeling wash over her. Those types of words hadn't been said around the Dutton Ranch in a long time and hearing them from Rip only stirred up emotions from the past. Oakley slowly stood up from her seat.

"Rip," Oakley took a breath. "What did he do?"

"I can't tell you," Rip shook his head.

"May I ask why not?" Oakley eyed him.

"You may if you want," Rip said.

But he didn't continue. Oakley let a puff of air out, shaking her head slowly.

"Let me guess," She looked at Rip. "If I were my husband...or maybe John...would you tell me what Eric did?"

"I would," Rip didn't lie to Oakley at least.

"You don't think that's a bit sexist?" Oakley asked him.

"Ain't have anything to do with what's between your legs, Oaks," Rip said, walking over to the door again. "You don't wear the brand."

"I wear the band," Oakley held up her left hand.

"That's your loyalty to Kayce," Rip pointed out.

"Are we back to that again?" Oakley asked him.

"My point exactly," Rip chuckled, putting his sunglasses on again. "Ain't ever got rid of that around here."

Oakley watched him walk out of the room and heard his footsteps down the hall and then the stairs. When she heard the front door open and shut, Oakley sat back down in her seat. She didn't know who this Eric was. In the past year, they had brought on about twenty new guys and lost about the same. She only knew the ones who had been there the longest.