Mayfly Melodies

Seven

Bailey

I draw inspiration from anything and everybody and that's what country music is to me...real life stories and real life emotions—Dustin Lynch

The hardest thing Bailey had ever done was leave home. When she'd first left for Nashville, at the age of seventeen, she was sure that she'd never do anything more difficult than leave behind her family. Her mother had come with her and stayed for the better part of a year until Bailey noticed how miserable she was and sent her back to her father and brothers.

Bailey had gone to live with Kyra and Mae. The three girls shared an apartment for close to a year and a half. And then Mae had moved in with Cole Castles, her high school sweetheart and Bailey had gone on to find her own place across town, far away from Kyra and her raging parties.

Living on her own had posed its own challenges. Bailey had found an apartment that was cheap on rent and was in an area that even the most ambitious paparazzo's avoided following her to on the off chance that they managed to spot her coming out of a recording studio. While she knew she should be living in a building that had a valet and more security, Bailey preferred the anonymity that came with living in her run-down apartment.

She'd gotten herself another, more upscale, apartment closer to the center of town. She usually rented it out to friends and her family when they came down to visit and it was there that, after a big scandal, the paparazzi tended to frequent. She was certain that they would have staked it out after the band's breakup and had avoided the area entirely when she'd gone to leave Nashville. She'd thought about going to her actual apartment but had decided against that too, equally as certain that the paps' would have found out about her real home. She hadn't wanted to risk the photo and had dashed out of town before they could snap a picture.

Now, standing in the middle of a mucky stall, a shovel in her hand, Bailey was trying to remember why she'd ever left home in the first place. It'd been surprisingly easy to wake up before dawn, like a long lost routine that came back to the life the moment she stepped onto the ranch. Her body had just known to wake up before first light. Had known that here, on the ranch, there was work to do and that she needed to do it.

She wiped the back of her hand across her sweaty forehead and then tossed another shovel-full of horse crap into a wheelbarrow. Her father and brothers were, like her, already awake and working. They'd come out to the stables after she had and had all looked surprised to see her in there, putting feed into buckets and hanging them onto the stall doors for the horses. Her father had smiled at her, that gentle, eye-crinkling quirk of his lips, and then he'd dragged Jake along to go to check on one of the fences that Stephen had marked the night before. Travis had helped her finish feeding the horses and then had gone back inside to help their mother with breakfast. He'd offered to do the mucking but Bailey, after seeing him wince slightly and rub at his shoulders — evidently stiff after his ride on the bronc — decided to let him off the hook and allow him to recover.

It was a little after eight when Travis reappeared in the entryway to the barn. He walked across the tiled floor to where she stood in the last stall on the left, mucking out her last shovelful. Her brother leaned against the door and stared at her as she leaned against the handle of the shovel.

"Have to admit," he began teasingly, "I was surprised to see you awake this morning. Don't you Nashville-folk get up at noon every day?"

"No," she replied. She paused to brush a strand of sweaty hair from her face. "Although, I definitely don't usually get up this early."

"I knew it." He laughed while she giggled. "Now, c'mon. Mom's waitin' for us. Breakfast is ready."

Bailey dumped the wheelbarrow outside and then propped the shovel against the wall where she'd found it. Then, she fell into step beside Travis who slung his arm around her shoulders.