Chapter Text
"Just think about it," Manny wheedles, leaning his weight against the door of the stall Abby was mucking. It sags beneath him, the hinges creaking, and they both pause to look at it before he carefully eases off.
"No," Abby grunts, stabbing the prongs of her pitchfork into the clean hay a little too harshly.
Manny frowns at her, rocking back on his heels and crossing his arms over his chest. "Amiga," he objects.
Abby ignores this, turning her back to him to kick the straw around the stall a little. She lifts her arm, wiping sweat off her brow with her forearm and fighting the urge to dig her fingertips into the space between her eyebrows. She had a rapidly approaching migraine.
But she would be shown no mercy — the creak of the hinges behind her again makes her hackles raise. Manny was never one for giving up easily.
"We could use the help," he insists, lowering his voice a little. Speaking to her like a spooked horse. It only succeeds in spooking her more; she whips her head around to pin him with a sharp glare, her braid smacking against her shoulder with the force.
Manny raises both hands, palms facing her, eyebrows shooting up. "Abby. Come on. Think about it. With the summer program two months out, the amount of work you're doing, Mel being pregnant—"
"Mel's pregnant?" Abby cuts in.
The two are silent for a moment. Abby watches Manny, her eyes narrowing just slightly as his expression slips from oh shit, to hesitation, to deflection. She sets her pitchfork aside when he opens his mouth, holding up a hand to silence him.
"I don't wanna know," she says, even though she — she knew. Some part of her did, anyway. Mel wasn't exactly subtle when she was sneaking around with someone. "She can tell me on her own time."
Manny looks relieved. He clears his throat, then sets his palms down on the stall door again. "Anyway," he says, leaning forward again. Abby senses what he wants to say; she scoffs and turns away from him, snatching up the pitchfork.
"I said no, Manny. We'll manage just fine, like we always do."
"Abby," Manny frowns. "When was the last time you took a day off?"
"I had a couple days off in January."
"Right," he says slowly. "Because you had pneumonia."
Abby grunts at him in reply. Sure, sure — maybe sickness was the only thing keeping her down. But who could blame her? She was busy. Firefly Ranch wouldn't run itself, and it wasn't like her father had exactly expected for things to be passed down to her so quickly. She couldn't trust anyone else with her family's legacy, so it was up to her to get the job done. Including mucking stalls — she flicks her braid over her shoulder and pretends Manny isn't there anymore.
At least, until Nora bursts into the barn with a panicked, "Abby?!"
Her head snaps up, gaze searching for the fire or dead body or whatever was responsible for pulling that tone from Nora. "Yes?"
"Sprocket is out," Nora slows to a stop a few paces away from the stall. There were grass stains on the knees of her jeans and her hair was coming out of the ponytail she'd put it in, some stuck to her forehead with the slick of her sweat. "She jumped the paddock again. We can't — can you help?"
Abby swears under her breath, the pitchfork clattering against the wall as she drops it to push the stall door open. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm," she looks to Manny, then back at the stall. "Can you?"
"Yeah," He nods, stepping aside to let her pass. Before she can, he grabs her wrist, stopping her short. "This would be easier with more hands," he reasons.
A flash of anger rips through Abby. She snatches it back, then throws her hands up. "Fine!" She snaps. "Hire someone! Fuck's sake, Manny — go buck wild. I have shit to do."
Manny's eyes light up, despite her temper, and he grins. "I knew you'd see reason," he says, with enough smugness to get him smacked.
Nora intervenes before he can be, grabbing Abby's hand and pulling her toward the exit. "Come on, before she gets to the road again."
"Let me get Diesel." Abby tears her gaze from Manny, the desire to shove him into the wheelbarrow full of horse shit forgotten. "How long ago did she get out?"
"Couple minutes? I dunno, I ran here." Nora waits anxiously as Abby crosses the barn, opening the door to her beloved black stallion's stall. She snags him by the bridle, making a soothing noise when he gives a grumble of complaint in response to his afternoon nap being interrupted.
"Grab me a lasso?" Abby asks over her shoulder, patting Diesel on the flank before she swings herself up onto him and curls her fingers in his mane. Nora hands her up a lasso and she loops it over one shoulder like a sash, nudging her heel into Diesel's bare side to guide him. "Which gate?"
"East gate," Nora steps back to let them pass. "Mel is after her on Missy."
Another rush of irritation rushes Abby; she grits her teeth and tightens her fingers in Diesel's mane. "Perfect. Walkie her that I'm on the way, please."
Nora nods, and Abby clicks her tongue, nudging her stallion into a trot. She tries to let the rush of the wind on her face and the prod of her tailbone against Diesel's back ground her, but she feels nothing but mounting overwhelm as she urges her horse into a gallop.
This whole running a ranch thing was really starting to get to her.
Ellie scuffs the toe of her converse on the gnarled pine floors a few inches in front of her, nudging it against the leg of the desk in front of her. Papers and mementos and stacks of files were sprawled over it; messy, but neat. Cluttered. A laptop with a single Firefly Ranch sticker covering the logo took up the dead center of the massive desktop.
She bites her nails, slumping a little lower in the hard plastic chair beneath her. She crosses one leg over the other, tapping her foot in a rhythm that matches the pounding of her heart. Some job interview, she thinks, her gaze sliding back to the closed door. The guy who'd met her at the gate — Manny, if she remembers right — had listened to something crackle indistinguishably on an old walkie-talkie before ditching her in this office.
Maybe this had been a bad idea. Lord knows she'd second guessed this decision over and over — ever since Dina had sent her the link to the job posting with a little heart emoticon. It had taken two days of reading the Firefly Ranch website back to front, looking at pictures that made her chest hurt, before she'd clicked on their Careers tab and filled out the application. She hadn't thought she'd actually get an interview.
Ellie sinks a little lower in her seat, the plastic creaking. She flicks her gaze to the bulletin board beside the desk, taking in coloring pages marked in child's scrawl from the previous summer, polaroids of who she could only assume was staff with their names written on them, a few fliers from previous events held at the ranch. It was cozy. It sets her teeth on edge.
Before she can get up and bolt out the door, it opens and Manny steps through again.
"Sorry about that," he says, cheerful, stepping around the desk and sitting in the worn leather chair. It sighs beneath him, some of the leather flaking off the arm, drifting lazily to the floor. "Where were we?"
Ellie stares at him. She sets her hands in her lap, sitting up just a little more, then shrugs. "We hadn't started."
"Right," Manny opens the laptop, pulling it closer toward him. "You submitted an application, right?"
Ellie's eye twitches. "Yes," she says.
He nods, pursing his lips as he clicks through what she can only assume is some sort of inbox. A strand of his hair falls in his face. Ellie digs the toes of her shoes into a scratch along the floor, taking a steadying breath. Easy, girl.
"Ah," Manny sits back, looking up and giving her a smile. "Here it is. Sorry, the — the ranch has been a bit of a hectic mess, lately."
"Right,"
He clears his throat. "So. What makes you interested in working here?"
Money? Ellie bites her tongue so she doesn't spit it at him, defensive. She can't really help it; the place smells like Joel's work boots. She can't help but wonder if he'd sat in the same chair she had, once. If he'd known the guy in front of her. They didn't have the same last name, so nobody would know they had any sort of relation. "I like horses," she says lamely.
Manny's eyebrows raise a little. He glances down at the application on the screen in front of her. "Do you have any experience with them?"
"Been riding since I was fourteen," Ellie curls her fingers in her lap so she doesn't let her shoulders lift to her ears. "So, uh. Yes."
"Have you ever worked on a ranch before?"
"My old man has — uh, had some land. Some sheep, a couple horses." She rubs her neck. "Nothing… like, official, but. I've lived there for the past eight years, so. I'm comfortable."
Manny brightens a little. "That's good! That's good — you wouldn't believe how many underqualified candidates live in the area. It's surprising, for San Joaquin." He laughs. Ellie does not laugh with him.
They stare at one another for a moment, before Manny clears his throat and glances back down at the laptop screen. "Okay, so, experience on a farm. Huge plus. This is a live-in position, just so you know. And coming up this summer, we have a program for the local foster kids that's like a summer camp — hands on riding experience, time away from life, all that good stuff. You'd have to be a sort of… counselor for that. Is that something you're interested in?"
Ellie considers. She tips her head to the side, chewing on her lower lip and crossing her arms over her chest. "How old?"
"Between twelve and sixteen."
Joel had tried to get her to go to Camp Firefly every year, once she'd been placed in his care. She always found a way to ignore it, burying herself in work around their little farm or digging her nose into comic books or just being generally out of the way so she didn't have to see him be disappointed when he went to work alone every morning. She scratches her fingernails over her inner arm, glancing back up at Manny, and nods.
"You'd have to pass a background check, of course," he reasons, nodding too.
"Sure."
"Any questions?"
Ellie's eyebrows shoot up. Her foot pauses its nervous tapping. "That's it?"
Manny blinks, then gives a laugh, lifting a shoulder in a shrug. "I, uh… I'll be honest — we're a little desperate. The owner is running herself ragged. This is sort of… damage control. You seem fine enough."
Fine enough. Her teeth dig into her lower lip so she doesn't sneer at him. "How's the pay?"
He pauses, then reaches forward and clicks around on the laptop a moment before clearing his throat. "Uh, well, since we put you up and pay for meals, and all that… twenty an hour."
"How long are the shifts?"
"Sun up to sundown. No less than ten hours."
Ellie nods slowly, her eyes snagging on a crude drawing of a horse pinned on the bulletin board, scribbled bright blue. It wasn't like she had anything else — this town didn't look too kindly on kids who did nothing but graduate high school by the skin of their teeth, who had no aspirations beyond survival.
"Yeah," she says finally, glancing back at Manny. His smile widens; he genuinely looks like she was doing him a favor. And he was happy about it. She inches a little lower in her seat. "Sure, okay. When do I start?"
"Well," Manny pushes the chair to roll over to the file cabinets behind him, rooting through a couple and pulling out a stack of papers. "Here, do these for me. I'll submit your background check now, and we can schedule an appointment for fingerprinting, too. Maybe they'll have one today, if you aren't busy."
Ellie nods, scooting the chair closer and pulling a pen from the horse head shaped mug adjacent to the laptop out, clicking the button. "Sure."
"I can't tell you enough how much of a help this is going to be," Manny says as he taps away on the laptop keyboard. "Boss'll be happy to have more hands."
She says nothing as she completes the paperwork in front of her, wondering if this was a mistake — not for the first time today. But she does it anyway, wondering if Joel had been in this same spot once, if he'd used the same pen and filled out the same paperwork. He'd been working here for decades, so that was hardly likely. But it brings her comfort anyway.
Ellie pushes the packet over to Manny once she's finished, tossing the pen back into the cup and shaking out her hand. "So what's next?"
"Let's give you a tour!" Manny grins, closing the laptop with a snap and getting to his feet. Ellie rises too, and he pauses, looking down at her feet.
"What?" Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest, defensive.
"Uh. We may… need to get you new shoes."
"What's wrong with my shoes?" She challenges, lifting her chin.
Manny stares at her beat up converse for a moment longer, hesitating. But he seems to pick his battles — this was not one he would win, anyway. He glances back up at her, giving her an awkward smile. "Nothing. C'mon, let's go."
He leads her out of the office, which was attached to the bunks. The sun beams down on them, the spring breeze ruffling Ellie's hair. She tucks her bangs from her eyes, following after Manny as he gives her a run down on how things worked.
"Mess hall is down that way," he points. "You'll share a room with one other person — Nora is the only one without a bunkmate, right now, so it'll likely be her. I'll sort that out with the boss before we get you settled in."
Ellie didn't love the idea of sharing a room with someone. She shoves her hands in her pockets, looking around as they step into the shared common space in the bunks.
A cowhide rug sprawls across the center of the living room, two well loved couches tucked up on the edges of two sides. A handmade wooden coffee table eats up space between them. There's a stack of books on one end, a half finished muffin on the other, crumbs scattered beneath it. A denim jacket was strewn across the back of one couch, looking close to slipping from its place. It was cozy, all things considered. It looked like home. Not Ellie's home, but — someone's home.
"The kitchen is through that way," Manny nods toward the doorway past the dining room. "Rooms are down the hall. Once we get you a room sorted, I'll show you."
"Cool," Ellie says flatly, following him as he backtracks right out the door again.
"I'll show you the pastures and then we'll be in touch, yeah?" Manny glances back at Ellie as they step toward the dirt road leading toward the paddocks.
"Look out!" A voice shouts at them from around the corner, moments before the thundering of hooves on packed dirt reaches them. Manny stops short when a red and white painted mare flies around the corner, eyes wild and mane streaming behind her.
Ellie isn't sure what possesses her — she throws herself in the path of the mare, reaching up with both hands and calling a firm, low, "whoa."
There's a split second where she sees her life flash before her eyes, a split second where the mare looks at her and seems to consider ignoring the command — but then she skids to a stop, her muzzle inches away from Ellie's face. Her chest heaves, beads of sweat dripping down from her mane, her nostrils flaring and eyes wild. One hoof paws at the ground in front of Ellie, antsy.
"Hey," Ellie says, keeping her voice gentle. She lifts a hand, careful and slow, making sure to keep it in the mare's field of vision. Her ears flick back and she flinches a little when Ellie rests her palm on her muzzle, but she relaxes when Ellie does nothing but keep it there. For a moment, the two breathe together, brown eyes locked with green.
"How the fuck did you do that?" Manny asks, incredulous.
Ellie blinks, curling her fingers in the mare's bridle and poking her head around to look at him. She's got two sets of eyes on her — Manny's, and a pair of blue eyes that belong to a blonde girl astride a stallion that looks more like he should be a war horse, instead of a farm horse. They're both staring at Ellie with some sort of shock, until — uh oh.
"I know you," Ellie says to the blonde — to Abby Anderson.
Abby's eyebrows draw together. "What?"
Ellie bristles. "Yeah. We know each other. You were a bitch to me in high school."
"No," Abby says, incredulous, sitting back a little on her horse. Fuck, was she — she was bareback on that thing. Ellie feels her cheeks flush. "I have no idea who you are."
"She's the new farmhand," Manny chimes in before Ellie can open her mouth. Maybe for the best, because she was about to bite this girl's head off.
Abby's eyes narrow. She glares at Ellie for a moment before snapping her gaze to Manny. "Manny," she says through grit teeth.
"What, you got a problem with that or something?" Ellie retorts.
Abby sucks in a breath, closing her eyes and tipping her chin up to the heavens. "No," she says, in a voice that was straining to keep any pretense of niceness. "Not at all. Welcome to Firefly Ranch." She opens her eyes again, looking at the mare in Ellie's hold. "Now can I please have Sprocket so I can put her away for the day?"
Ellie blinks, then looks at Sprocket, who looks back at her. She can't help but smile just a little, patting the space between her eyes gently before letting Manny step over and clip a lead to her bridle.
"She's cute," Ellie offers, as Manny hands over the lead to Abby.
Abby snorts, tossing her braid over her shoulder. "No. She's a demon. I don't know how the hell you didn't get killed when — do you make a habit of throwing yourself in front of galloping horses?"
"No," Ellie huffs.
"Good. We don't need any deaths on the property." Abby mutters to herself. Ellie watches her arms flex as she curls her fingers in the stallion's mane and nudges him toward the barn, Sprocket's lead in hand.
"Bye, boss," Manny calls. Abby does nothing but sigh at him as they retreat.
Boss. "That's—" Ellie starts, then cuts herself off, looking up at Manny.
Manny looks down at Ellie, rubbing his neck, then grins. "Welcome to Firefly Ranch."