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Welcoming Committee
Jun. 7th, 2010 04:19 pmParker can’t remember a time in her life when she has ever had a hard time fitting in and making friends. Whether it was kindergarten, camp, freshman orientation, or a bar at the End of the Universe. It’s just something that she does, and does well.
The Tumbling-A Ranch is no exception. But it helps that Parker has seriously lucked out with her suitemate. Aurelia Morales is a little bit older than Parker, and has lived and worked full time at the ranch for a year, and worked summers during college before that.
When Parker had arrived at the ranch, after checking in with her new boss, she’d been turned over to Aurelia, who offered to help her get settled. Over carrying Parker’s bags and boxes in from the car and up to her new room, Parker learned that Aurelia was the ranch’s resident nature guide, leading hikes, trail rides, and (in season) hunting parties. That she grew up in suburban Amarillo, and was a competitive barrel racer with her own horse, a gelding that she fondly referred to as ‘Toaster.’
“As in Brave Little?” Parker had asked.
“As in Sunny’s French Toast. Gotta love the registered names,” Aurelia had replied, leaning in to pull Parker’s box of bedding out from the very back of the SUV. “One of the perks of the job,” she’d added, waving her hand to where the ranch road disappeared around a small hillock. “My baby’s stabled just on the other side of that rise. I get to see him every day.”
They’d carted the last load into the Summer House which, Aurelia had explained, was where summer employees lived, as well as year-rounders who chose to live on the ranch. It was a basic frame house that had been added onto in a couple of places and felt just like every smallish dorm Parker had ever been in. There was a large kitchen/living room area on the first floor. A one story extension off to the side housed the male summer employees. The girls had custody of the main house; summer employees doubled up in rooms, while the few year-rounders were paired up in suites—two small bedrooms with a shared bathroom.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re living here,” Aurelia had told Parker as they climbed the steps to the front porch. “I was terrified I’d wind up with Heidi as a suitemate, then there would probably have been bloodshed. You’ll understand when you meet her,” she’d added off of Parker’s raised eyebrows.
Parker was surprised at how quiet the house was, as they carried her stuff through the common room and upstairs. Somewhere down the first floor hallway she could faintly hear a stereo playing, but that was it. “I guess everyone’s at work?” she asked.
“Yeah. You’ll meet the whole motley crew at supper. Trust me, this place is a madhouse in the summer. It clears out in the fall though—it’s almost too quiet then.”
With all of Parker’s belongings stowed in her new room (on the second floor under a shady eave) they retired to a pair of battered rocking chairs on the front porch with two large glasses of iced tea.
“So, have you worked with most of the people here before?” Parker asked.
Aurelia nodded as she sipped her tea. “Yeah. We get a lot of people who work here multiple summers. There are always a handful of new ones, though. Most of the girls seem okay, this year. I haven’t really had a chance to feel out the guys—most of them were off on the cattle round up during May. They’re usually a decent group overall, but if anyone ever gets handsy or something, just tell J.R. He’ll straighten them out for you.”
Parker was just about to ask who J.R was when a disembodied voice floated over the porch railing.
“What are you volunteering me for this time?”
Aurelia tipped her chair forward so that she could look over the rail. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked.
“I am.” A pair of hands appeared on the railing, and a figure in dusty denim, hoisted himself up and over, onto the porch. “Karen said the new girl was here, so I came to carry boxes. But y’all are too fast for me.” He smiled and held out a hand to Parker. “Hey, you must be Parker.”
“Yeah. Hi,” Parker replied. “You must be J.R.”
J.R. was, Parker guessed, in his mid-twenties. He was spare and wiry, probably no taller than she was, and his one outstanding feature was a pair of bright blue eyes that crinkled into a web if lines at the corners.
“J.R.’s the old man on campus here,” Aurelia explained. “He lives down at the bunkhouse and keeps the younger guys in line. And, hello, you know where the refrigerator is,” she added as J.R. helped himself to her glass of iced tea.
“Yeah, but this is closer,” J.R. replied, unrepentantly, dodging when Aurelia aimed a backhanded swat at him. “Parker, you’re going to have to watch this one. She’s trouble.”
Aurelia snorted. “I’m remembering that the next time you get your butt bucked off at the end of the river trail and radio me to come out and pick you up.”
“Did I ever say trouble was a bad thing?” J.R. grinned and handed the glass of tea back. “So, Parker. What do you think of the place so far?”
Parker glanced off at the view, which was admittedly spectacular. And then back at the pair on the porch (where Aurelia had reached up and swiped J.R.’s hat, settling it on her own head).
“I think I could live here.”
The Tumbling-A Ranch is no exception. But it helps that Parker has seriously lucked out with her suitemate. Aurelia Morales is a little bit older than Parker, and has lived and worked full time at the ranch for a year, and worked summers during college before that.
When Parker had arrived at the ranch, after checking in with her new boss, she’d been turned over to Aurelia, who offered to help her get settled. Over carrying Parker’s bags and boxes in from the car and up to her new room, Parker learned that Aurelia was the ranch’s resident nature guide, leading hikes, trail rides, and (in season) hunting parties. That she grew up in suburban Amarillo, and was a competitive barrel racer with her own horse, a gelding that she fondly referred to as ‘Toaster.’
“As in Brave Little?” Parker had asked.
“As in Sunny’s French Toast. Gotta love the registered names,” Aurelia had replied, leaning in to pull Parker’s box of bedding out from the very back of the SUV. “One of the perks of the job,” she’d added, waving her hand to where the ranch road disappeared around a small hillock. “My baby’s stabled just on the other side of that rise. I get to see him every day.”
They’d carted the last load into the Summer House which, Aurelia had explained, was where summer employees lived, as well as year-rounders who chose to live on the ranch. It was a basic frame house that had been added onto in a couple of places and felt just like every smallish dorm Parker had ever been in. There was a large kitchen/living room area on the first floor. A one story extension off to the side housed the male summer employees. The girls had custody of the main house; summer employees doubled up in rooms, while the few year-rounders were paired up in suites—two small bedrooms with a shared bathroom.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you’re living here,” Aurelia had told Parker as they climbed the steps to the front porch. “I was terrified I’d wind up with Heidi as a suitemate, then there would probably have been bloodshed. You’ll understand when you meet her,” she’d added off of Parker’s raised eyebrows.
Parker was surprised at how quiet the house was, as they carried her stuff through the common room and upstairs. Somewhere down the first floor hallway she could faintly hear a stereo playing, but that was it. “I guess everyone’s at work?” she asked.
“Yeah. You’ll meet the whole motley crew at supper. Trust me, this place is a madhouse in the summer. It clears out in the fall though—it’s almost too quiet then.”
With all of Parker’s belongings stowed in her new room (on the second floor under a shady eave) they retired to a pair of battered rocking chairs on the front porch with two large glasses of iced tea.
“So, have you worked with most of the people here before?” Parker asked.
Aurelia nodded as she sipped her tea. “Yeah. We get a lot of people who work here multiple summers. There are always a handful of new ones, though. Most of the girls seem okay, this year. I haven’t really had a chance to feel out the guys—most of them were off on the cattle round up during May. They’re usually a decent group overall, but if anyone ever gets handsy or something, just tell J.R. He’ll straighten them out for you.”
Parker was just about to ask who J.R was when a disembodied voice floated over the porch railing.
“What are you volunteering me for this time?”
Aurelia tipped her chair forward so that she could look over the rail. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked.
“I am.” A pair of hands appeared on the railing, and a figure in dusty denim, hoisted himself up and over, onto the porch. “Karen said the new girl was here, so I came to carry boxes. But y’all are too fast for me.” He smiled and held out a hand to Parker. “Hey, you must be Parker.”
“Yeah. Hi,” Parker replied. “You must be J.R.”
J.R. was, Parker guessed, in his mid-twenties. He was spare and wiry, probably no taller than she was, and his one outstanding feature was a pair of bright blue eyes that crinkled into a web if lines at the corners.
“J.R.’s the old man on campus here,” Aurelia explained. “He lives down at the bunkhouse and keeps the younger guys in line. And, hello, you know where the refrigerator is,” she added as J.R. helped himself to her glass of iced tea.
“Yeah, but this is closer,” J.R. replied, unrepentantly, dodging when Aurelia aimed a backhanded swat at him. “Parker, you’re going to have to watch this one. She’s trouble.”
Aurelia snorted. “I’m remembering that the next time you get your butt bucked off at the end of the river trail and radio me to come out and pick you up.”
“Did I ever say trouble was a bad thing?” J.R. grinned and handed the glass of tea back. “So, Parker. What do you think of the place so far?”
Parker glanced off at the view, which was admittedly spectacular. And then back at the pair on the porch (where Aurelia had reached up and swiped J.R.’s hat, settling it on her own head).
“I think I could live here.”
