Texas Big Man - Penny Wylder

1

Melena

This turtle is way heavier than the last two. Not exactly a sentence I ever thought I’d be muttering to myself in the middle of the damn desert, but then again, nothing about this trip has really been what I expected so far, so why should this be any different?

It has to be at least a hundred degrees out here under the clear Texas sky, and I very much sympathize with these turtles trying to get across the road into the shade of the few scraggly shrubs. But I didn’t think I would see so many, and I’m worried that if I don’t move them, one of the pick-ups that’s sped by me—there’s really no need to go at such insane speeds!—will crush the poor creatures.

And that’s how I find myself hauling a very reluctant turtle across hot asphalt and into the brush. Working up a pretty decent sweat and nervously glancing up and down the road hoping I don’t inadvertently become roadkill myself. That, and my brother. My brother who I would do anything for. Who’s stuck by me through thick and thin ever since we were kids. No matter how far-fetched the plan, he’s always known he could find a partner in me. Whether it was spending the summers collecting cans night and day to pay for a new go-cart, or souping up that go-cart together so we could win the grand prize at the derby. He’s a dreamer, and as his sister, I’ll always support his dreams. That’s what family’s for, after all. So I shouldn’t really be surprised at any of this. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed.

Or at least I thought that I knew.

But the reality of driving down a road that’s arrow straight for hundreds of miles with nothing but flat brown land around you and dry heat that’s straight out of hell makes the reality of what I signed up for a lot less appealing.

It almost makes me understand the trucks that have been speeding by with shocking regularity. There’s nothing to do out here but speed, and very little chance of getting caught by anyone who might care, so you might as well, right?

I put the turtle down on the side of the road, and he speeds his cute little form away. Well…speeds for a turtle, which isn’t very fast. Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I cringe. It’s so dusty here that I feel like I’m caked with it. My car is covered in it, and I swear when I get back to the city that I’m going to make Trevor pay to have my car washed.

Not just washed, detailed. There’s got be dust in every crevice of my formerly spotless car. Oh, he will owe me big time.

My brother bought a ranch in the middle of nowhere. Just out of the blue. My brother, the marketing executive who swears he doesn’t go for regular manicures, but I say his nails can’t be that shiny naturally, bought a ranch complete with acres of wild land and horses. It doesn’t make any sense, but he claims it’s been a dream of his forever and that he got it for an absolute steal. On top of that, he claimed that I was really his only chance to get the place off the ground. He needed help fixing the place up.

And because he’s my brother—and I’m an idiot—I agreed. This was the summer I was supposed to write my book. I had it all planned out. Pretty new notebooks for plotting, a collection of pens and post-its, and time to myself, to finally accomplish my dream. Time to become the writer I’ve always believed I could be. Then along came Trevor’s dream, and he convinced me to come down here and help him instead, luring me with the promise of the picturesque outdoors, and quiet nights to myself to write, free from the noise and distractions of the city. A place where I could help him and work on my project, too. The idea did have appeal. Why write in bustling coffeeshops back home when I could set myself up on the verandah of the main house and be inspired by the magical sunsets, undistracted by honking horns and acquaintances who’d promise they’d just sit for a second to chat with me but end up taking up all my writing time with tales of their own love lives and work problems? He also told me that he really, really, needed me.