Gatekeeper's Secret
Copyright© 2026 by Fick Suck
Chapter 17
“Wow,” Grady said as they mounted their horses, “that was unexpected.”
Bri chuckled. “I’m not even sure why. I haven’t let a man touch me in eight months, but something clicked and there we were, going at it like bunny rabbits. You must think I’m a terrible person.”
“If I thought you were a terrible person, Bri, I would have walked away when you offered. On one hand, I’m proud as a peacock that you trust me and are willing to share. On the other hand, I’m still confused.”
Bri chuckled again. “That makes two of us, cowboy. I think we both needed our pipes cleaned, or however you say it around here. Sex is supposed to feel good, and today I felt good, wonderful even. The blanket was a bit scratchy, but I’m willing to blame that on poor planning and impulsive decisions. What’s that sound?”
“Northern flicker,” Grady said, “They’re woodpeckers that nest in these trees. You can’t miss their kik, kik, kik, kik, flicka, flicka, flicka. Can you tell me if this was a one-off or should I come prepared the next time we come out here?”
“I’m moving into the bunkhouse; of that I’m certain,” Bri said as they continued back towards the ranch. “I’m not looking for a boyfriend, but I appreciate you as a friend with benefits. Don’t tell Christina, please.”
Grady nodded. “I’m not certain what the future holds for Christina if she continues to tangle with every creature that crosses her path. You can’t fight the whole world and expect to win.”
They continued riding in amiable silence, letting the clopping of the horse hoofs carry the good feelings for them. Birds were flitting across the landscape and high above, the shadow of a raptor streaked passed them. The day was warm enough to unbutton their jackets, which reminded Grady that despite the wonderful bout of sex, his butt got really cold, hanging out in the fresh air. There were advantages to using a bed.
When they reached the fork in the trail, Grady tipped his hat, inviting Bri to continue on back to the barn while he went to check the upper trail. She hesitated for a moment before nodding her assent. As soon as she started, Grady turned left and started up the trail. He was surprised that he made it to the grove in forty-five minutes, give or take. After all his reading, the gate was not nearly as big or imposing as he thought it would be. Mostly, the gateway looked like it was carved out of the rock face with an arch of rugged stones to give it some definition.
He dismounted and walked up to the gate. As he drew near, the stone in his necklace grew warm on his breastbone. He pulled it out to examine it. When the stone appeared, a spark flew out of it and burrowed into the keystone above the gate. A moment later, a spark burst from the keystone and slammed into Grady’s stone, which grew hot for an instant and then cooled.
“That’s one way to say hello,” Grady muttered. Nothing else happened. He toured the cleared area, checking out the trees and their branches. He did not recognize the species, but they looked normal. With no clue of what else to do, Grady turned the horse around and went back to the ranch. He grabbed a late lunch of big, fat slices of olive loaf and American cheese on fluffy white bread. He put aside the mayo and squeezed a spoonful of yellow mustard on the sandwich instead. The sandwich was good enough that he felt compelled to make another.
“Wait until you get my bill,” Bettina called out when he stepped out front. “Some of the wiring must go back eighty years.”
“At least one hundred years,” Grady said. “The wires are all solid copper though. They’re worth some money.”
“Keep up that optimism, Grady, it looks good on you,” she replied. “Remember that notion when you attempt to burn off the asbestos on the wire coatings. If you value long life and good lungs, don’t do it.”
“I’m glad you’ve got my back,” Grady said. “Are you staying here tonight or are you going back to your mother’s house.”
“Mama’s” she said. “You’re welcome to come for dinner.”
“Nah,” Grady said. “I spent most of the day already up on the mountain. I got a pile of work, chores, and study because, my favorite friend in the whole wide world wants to drink beer, watch movies and play card games every night.”
“As long as I’m your favorite,” Bettina said, shaking her head. “Jesus, Grady, did Jedidiah teach you to shovel the manure as good as you do? I do believe with enough practice, you could talk a nun out of her habit.”
“Grandma said it runs in the blood, and my great grandfather was worse than my grandpa.” Grady paused and took a quick glance in both directions. “Anything from the barn?”
“She’s been busy,” Bettina said. “She’s also had her phone glued to her ear a good chunk of the day. I don’t know her business, but I know it was business. Those horses are something else, stunning.”
“Christina?”
Bettina waggled her finger at him. “She’s not back yet; are you trying to avoid her?”
“Captain Obvious I am,” Grady said, tipping his hat. “Give me a heads up, when you want to stay overnight, Bettina. You’re always welcome.” He snapped his fingers. “Could you pick up some beer when you next come out?”
“Contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” Bettina said. “O, the shame, the stigma.”
Grady leaned over and whispered in her ear, “If you’re looking for shame and stigma, just knock on my bedroom door. I’d be more than happy to oblige.” He stepped back with a slight grin, “Please give my best to your mother and tell her I wish her well.” He spun around on his heel and went looking for the barn.
“You don’t play fair, Grady,” he heard Bettina yell, but he kept moving. After checking the sheds, he moved to the barn. Jessica was leaning against one of the cabinets as she scrolled through her cell phone.
“Afternoon,” Grady said. “Things going well today?”
“I’m selling the horses,” she said. “Well, all but the quarter horses. The precious, precocious little petunias are not going to schlep all the way out here for a ride. I knew that fact when I pulled them out of the last place, but the reality is a cold, cold bucket of water. Christina is not going to compete; she made that annoyingly clear. There are several buyers on both coasts and two potentials in Kentucky. The logistics are maddening.”
“You don’t need to sell them today,” Grady said. “What’s the rush?”
“I can pay the lease, Grady,” she snapped. “Stay out of my business.”
Grady held up his hands in surrender before slowly backing out of the barn. He did his best as he stomped back to the house to keep his concerns about crazy women running amok on his property at bay. He sat down at the office computer, returning to his last required text, which he was finishing quickly. Everyone either complained to the heavens or acted so impressed with Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse Five.” He found the alien device clumsy, but then he reminded himself, real aliens had run with his family. He read until he finished the book. Taking a few more moments, he opened the outline function, jotting down his thoughts for one last essay.
Glancing out the back window, he confirmed that Jessica had left for the night. Later, he would walk the grounds, confirming whether Bri had decided to stay or go back to town. He was hoping for the latter. With a stack of sandwiches at his side, he pulled out a journal from the safe.
April 30, 1920
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