Blackfoot Ranch

I love this story a lot more than expected...let me know if you'd like me to continue it!

--

I'd fallen out of love with my husband long before I met Elena Perez. We'd gotten married at 18 to get out of the Oklahoma town we'd grown up in and, by 22, it was clear we weren't a good fit for each other. By then, we had two kids, no money, and the reality that divorce was expensive. He was still my friend, after all, and trying to split up bank accounts and cars and custody sounded like a nightmare to both of us. So we spent another few years in a loveless, sexless marriage, trying to decide what to do as the kids grew up.

It was June 18th, an unseasonably hot Thursday, when Paul finally sat me down on our cracking leather couch while the girls were at daycare. He took my right hand in both of his and said, "I think it's time. I want the kids to get used to it before Mia starts school in the fall."

He was right and I knew it. Mia, our oldest, was going to start kindergarten while Liv, the youngest, would be entering preschool. I knew it would be better for them to be settled into the routine of our custody agreement earlier rather than later. That sort of tumult thrown into the life of a 13 or 16-year-old would be infinitely worse.

I sighed and told him, "I think so, too."

Then he dropped the bomb that set me off: "I'm going to go for full custody, Sadie."

I ripped my hand out of his and replied, "Excuse me?"

Not willing to look me in the eyes, he said, "I love the girls, and I know you do too, of course, but I think it's best for them if they stay with me most of the time. I have a stable job now, and you're still just a housewife. I can provide them with a better life."

"'Just a housewife'?" My voice rose and I realized why he'd waited until both girls were out of the house to have this conversation. "You think that wiping the asses of both of your children, cleaning up after them, making sure they're developing correctly, doing your goddamn laundry, and making sure our entire lives don't crumble into chaos isn't a full-time job?"

He didn't look at me. "Sadie, you know-"

"No, you know what?" I stood up and walked toward the other edge of the room, suddenly needing all the space I could get from him. "You go ahead and try to spend a long weekend taking care of them by yourself, with your full-time job, without me. See how you feel about a custody agreement after you give that a go."

I stormed off to our bedroom upstairs. We slept in a king-sized bed facing away from each other. Separate blankets, separate pillows, separate dreams. I tore through my closet, collecting whatever clothes my hands touched first. I threw in my sneakers and put on a pair of sandals. On the way out the front door, I grabbed my sunglasses and keys.

As Paul stood there dumbfounded, not even finding the spine to argue with me, I called over my shoulder, "By the way, Mia has swim lessons tonight and Liv has an appointment with the pediatrician."

Paul pinched his forehead and asked, "Where are the lessons? And, ah, what's the doctor's name?"

I smirked at him and replied, "Everything's written down somewhere in my office. Planner, calendar, sticky notes. And don't forget that birthday party Mia was invited to from her pre-K on Saturday. You agreed to bring my cheesy potato casserole. I was going to take her to pick out the gift after swim lessons. Good luck."

I closed the door behind me and got in the truck my dad had given me as a high school graduation present. We lived in Spokane, Washington in those days, which meant it was only a four-hour drive into Lolo, Montana. My mom -- they were divorced too, now, but they'd succeeded in waiting until I was an adult -- had a cabin up there and she'd told me a thousand times over that I could come visit whenever I wanted. So I shot her a text and started driving. I loved Spokane, a place I had called home for years, but today it felt stifling and oppressive, pulled down by Paul's heavy news. I needed an escape, a sanctuary where I could find solace amidst the turmoil. Where I could get my head around everything.

The road stretched out before me like a lifeline, winding through the rugged terrain as I delved deeper into the heart of the mountains. Tall evergreens towered above the road, their branches forming a protective canopy over the winding highways, and the sun played peek-a-boo through the leaves, casting fleeting patterns of light and shadow on the windshield.

As I pulled up to my mom's small wooden cabin. The familiar creak of the gravel beneath the tires was weirdly comforting instead of annoying. It sounded like I was far away from my problems, far from the smoothly paved city streets, far away from my own painful thoughts. The cabin sat nestled in the heart of a vast property, surrounded by nature's splendor. A crystal-clear lake shimmered in the distance down a rocky path, reflecting the breathtaking view of the mountains that encircled the valley. Tears stung at my eyes knowing Mom would be there to hug me but still give me the space I needed to think.

Stepping out of the truck, I inhaled the scent of pine and fresh, clean air. It was much cooler up in the mountains. The tranquil atmosphere wrapped around me like a warm embrace, welcoming me back after what had felt like an eternity since my last visit. It had been a year or two, which made me feel guilty, but I knew it was enough for my mom just to come back when I needed her. The cabin, with its weathered exterior and porch with rocking chairs, looked just as I remembered, unchanged by the passage of time. It had been my parents' shared summer home back in the day, but Mom had taken over, leaving Dad with the house in Oklahoma.

I approached the front door, the wood smooth beneath my fingers as I twisted the worn brass doorknob. She never locked it; what was the pound? The interior greeted me with coziness and memories of laughter and shared moments. It was as if time had stood still in this place, preserving the love and happiness that permeated every corner of the cabin.

I called out, "Mom? I'm downstairs."

Immediately, her creaking footsteps sounded from the attic, where her bedroom was. She descended the ladder and wrapped me in a tight hug. Genetics had made me a near-perfect copy of her, inheriting only a few features from Dad. We had the same mousy, curly brown hair, the same hooded hazel eyes, and the same soft faces worn by difficult times. Only I was worn down more than my 26 years should've allowed. She'd become something of a hippie, though, with beads in her hair and a wardrobe full of flowing prairie dresses, while I'd stayed plainer. Maybe after the divorce, I'd blossom the way she had.

Nestled into the crook of my neck, she said, "I'm so glad you're here. It's finally over with Paul, I take it?"

"Yeah," I sighed. She smelled like cedar and herbs. "He wants to take the girls."

She pulled back, holding my shoulders with her arms, and said, "We won't let that happen, baby. I'm sure your dad and I will be happy to help you with the lawyer's fees. We'll get you the best there is."

I took a relieved breath. Even if they couldn't stand each other anymore, my parents had always done what was best for me and my siblings. I had hoped my divorce would result in the same level of support for my kids.

We settled into the early evening, making a dinner of local game and greens together.

At the dinner table, Mom, thankfully, knew I didn't want to talk about Paul and the girls. So she told me some of the local gossip, which was the only entertainment in a house without internet and spotty cell service. "Marnie up the road -- out on Blackfoot Ranch -- died back in January. Her husband's always been useless, of course-"

I offered a chuckle warmed by red wine. "Aren't they all?"

"In my experience? Definitely." She smiled and patted my hand. "Anyway, he sold the place to this girl -- well, not a girl, she must be in her thirties, just seems young to me -- who lives up there and manages everything by herself now. I think she's divorced, too. Maybe you should head up and meet her; she might have some advice or just friendship."

"Isn't that a little weird?" I finished the last of my meal. "Random person showing up at her door to talk about divorce?"

"Around here it isn't." Mom stood up and cleared my plate, bringing the dishes over to the sink. "Everyone's as close as can be. Can't go to anyone else during an emergency, after all. Just tell her you're my daughter and I'm sure you'll be thick as thieves."

I sighed, knowing she wouldn't drop it until I did. That's Mom. I asked, "What's her name? She runs the ranch by herself?"

"Elena Perez. She's got some ranch hands that come up every once in a while, but I don't see many others heading that way."

--

The next morning, Mom already had pancakes on the griddle. It was still dark out, but we'd gone to bed early and it took the sun a long time to reach over the mountain range. A spread of fresh fruit and syrup tapped from local trees decorated the table. She'd probably traded some of her famous strawberry rhubarb pies for the syrup.

When we finished eating, I asked, "How do I get over to the ranch? It's on the other side of the lake, right?"

She confirmed the directions and I went upstairs to get dressed. I slipped on a pair of bike shorts, a sports bra, and an oversized sweatshirt from my dad's alma mater. It stayed cool in the mornings here until the sun was high in the sky.

As I left the cabin, the sun began to peek over the range, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. The air was crisp and refreshing, carrying with it the scent of dew-kissed grass and earth. Birds sang their melodies, filling the valley with a gentle serenade. The world awakened alongside me.

Leaving the cabin behind, I followed a narrow path that wound its way through the tall, swaying prairie grass. The soft earth beneath my feet felt cool and inviting, grounding me with every step. The mountains loomed large in the distance, their peaks basking in the morning glow, as if inviting me to explore their majestic beauty.

As I strolled along, I couldn't help but notice the vibrant colors that adorned the landscape. Wildflowers, in various hues of purple, yellow, and white, dotted the meadow. Bees buzzed happily from one flower to another, and butterflies danced in the gentle breeze, creating a living canvas of nature's artwork.

The lake came into view, its surface shimmering like a sheet of glass, mirroring the mountains and the waking sky above. The temptation to dip my toes into the water was strong, and I promised myself that I'd go for a swim when it was warmer out. Continuing my walk, I approached a grove of tall evergreens that stood like guardians of the land. The soft needles underfoot released a faint fragrance.

As I ventured deeper into the woods, the sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, creating a dappled effect on the ground. Emerging from the forest, I found myself near the edge of the property, where a fence separated the open land from Blackfoot Ranch. I had vague memories of visiting Marnie on the property as a little kid, petting goats and plucking carrots.

The ranch's gate loomed ahead, ornate and formidable, yet it beckoned me forward. As I pushed it open, it creaked under the weight of time, and I stepped through, nervous. The sprawling farmland stretched way back into the valley, its green expanse dotted with grazing sheep and goats. Horses roamed freely around the property and cattle lazed in the pastures, their deep, contented moos filling the air.

My attention was drawn to the large white plantation-style house. It was an imposing structure, with tall pillars supporting a wide veranda that wrapped around the front. Scaffolding held up parts of the house; the new owner must've been renovating. I wondered how one woman could possibly occupy such a grand residence. Maybe she had a family waiting to move in, or maybe she would rent out the spare rooms.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the grand house, ascending the steps that led to the impressive veranda. The wood beneath my feet felt smooth and polished, a contrast to the rustic charm of my mom's cabin. Summoning my courage, I lifted my hand and knocked hard, knowing I'd need force to break through the extensive hours.

Moments later, the door swung open, revealing a vision that left me momentarily breathless. Standing before me was a woman of striking beauty, exuding an aura of confidence and elegance that captivated me instantly. I remembered her name from Mom's brief description. Elena Perez had strong features that sharply contrasted my own. A bold, straight nose sat at the center of her face. Her eyes were deeply hooded, so dark they were almost black, and a smattering of sun spots and freckles rested below them. Her lips were full but not soft; rather, they had a sharp cupid's bow and striking angles. Dark, straight hair framed a face chiseled by an artist's hand.

She wore a colorful blouse adorned with intricate embroidery, maybe a nod to her Mexican heritage, which complemented her deeply tanned, olive skin. Her presence filled the space around her, commanding attention with an air of quiet confidence. Her eyes bore into mine with a mix of curiosity and warmth, making my heart skip a beat. "Can I help you?"

As I stood there, trying to keep my mouth closed, I was shocked by an immediate attraction pulling me toward her. I had always identified as straight, but the magnetism felt toward Elena was undeniable. The boundaries of my understanding of myself shifted in her presence, and the realization sent a jolt of confusion through my thoughts.

Thankfully, she saved me from my stupid expression, asking, "You're Diana's youngest, aren't you? She told me you were practically her twin."

I regained my composure and put on a smile. "That's me. Sadie."

She extended a hand, worn with callous, and introduced herself formally. "Elena. It's good to meet you." For a moment, her eyes traversed up and down my body in a way that made my insides flip. That's how Paul looked at me before senior prom, how the mailman looked at me when I opened the door in just my silk robe, how the grocery store bagger looked at me when I wore no bra and tight leggings. "Come on inside. I've got a fresh batch of sun tea I just brought in from the porch."

As Elena led me inside the old ranch house, it was evident that she had just moved in. Like, just moved in. Boxes, drop sheets, and belongings waiting to find their place in this new home littered every room. The grandeur of the house contrasted with the disarray of moving. The high ceilings and ornate wooden details stood as a testament to the house's history, but now, a layer of newness filled its wooden bones,

We navigated our way through the maze of boxes, sharing laughter and stories of her move. It was clear that she was thrilled about the possibilities this old house and its property held for her future. As we walked, she pointed out her vision for each room, describing how she planned to blend her own style with the house's heritage. I could barely listen to her words, though, as the curves of her hips in her jeans and toned arms pointed at things I was supposed to pay attention to.

She'd finished remodeling the kitchen, which I could tell was the heart of the home to her. The high ceilings displayed the house's original crown molding, while vintage artwork and photographs, clearly collected over a lifetime of thrifting, adorned the walls. Antique copper pots and pans hung from wooden beams while modern appliances seamlessly integrated. Polished marble countertops complemented the rich, dark wood cabinets with glass panels showcasing delicate china and vintage glassware. A blue, intricately patterned tiled backsplash lined the counters. It burst with vibrant colors from fresh flowers and hand-sewn plush cushions on comfortable chairs

Elena poured the sun tea from its large pitcher, gracefully adding a slice of lemon to each to infuse the drink with a burst of citrus. The ice cubes clinked against our glasses. As we settled into the cozy breakfast nook, the intimacy of the space and Elena's warm expression broke down my walls. With a vulnerable yet determined expression, I shared that I wasn't just here on a social visit. Elena listened attentively, her eyes filled with empathy, knowing all too well the journey I was about to embark on.

She then shared her own story. Elena revealed that her divorce had taken place years ago, but it had been a pivotal moment in her life. It was during that difficult time that she came to the realization that she was a lesbian, and that truth ultimately led her to leave her husband. She tried to stay in the city for a while but felt called to go to the country to escape the complicated life behind her. The sun tea sat mostly forgotten on the table as we delved deeper into our stories. In that moment, I realized that our connection was more than chance--it was a meeting of kindred spirits.

Soon enough, I looked up and realized the day was already bleeding into the late afternoon. "Shit, I should really get back to call and check on my girls."

Elena touched my hand. That simple, intimate touch sent a shockwave through my entire body. "Are you sure? I've got a phone here."

She wanted me to stay longer.

I wanted to stay longer.

So I said, "That sounds good."

"And, maybe after," she began, hesitation wavering in her voice, "you could come out into the valley with me. I was going to camp out tonight to clear my head. Sounds like you could use a bit of that yourself."

I was taken aback. Going out into the mountains to share a tent with a stranger -- even one my mom knew -- definitely didn't match with who I was back home: The doting, careful, tightly wound mother who had to balance everything in one hand with toddlers in the other. But that's why I was here -- to get away from her. After a few seconds of thinking, I said, "That sounds great. Freeing."

"Exactly."

Elena led me to the phone and I checked up on Paul. I rolled my eyes as he informed me we were close to out of groceries, which, of course, I knew. I told him the list was on the fridge -- directly in front of his face -- and not to let the girls buy whatever junk they wanted off the aisles. I felt a sharp vindication over his desperation, but it mixed with the guilt of dropping everything to leave the girls with him. They loved Paul, but I was the parent they were used to having constant access to. I tried to remind myself that I had the right to some time off and he was their parent, too, after all. I said a warm goodbye to each of my daughters, sang their favorite songs, put the phone on the receiver, and sighed.

Elena came up behind me. "You sound like a great mom."

"Thank you." I turned toward her and my eyes bugged out of my head. She'd changed into nothing but a sports bra and tight leggings, revealing more of her body that I couldn't stop myself from imagining. She was heavier than me, leading to sweeping hips and full breasts pushed up into cleavage by her bra. I swallowed and stammered, "So, ah, where are we going then? Hiking? Driving?"

--

After helping Elena load up the car with a tent, small grill, and various other supplies, we were on the road as the sun began to set. Under the twinkling night sky, Elena and I set off to the secluded campsite that she promised was the perfect place for solace. When we arrived, I found it was perched on a cliff not too far from the edge of a rocky cliff. The view was obscured by darkness, but I knew it would be spectacular in the morning. For now, the infinite sky of stars was enough to satiate my need to be in the world.

As the night embraced us, I found myself entranced by the sight of Elena gracefully pitching the tent under the starlit sky, handling the tarp and tent poles with expert confidence that revealed her independent nature. She created a fire from practically nothing, just a flint, a knife, and kindling that I collected from the nearby woods, pretty useless in helping out with anything else. The soft glow of the campfire danced across her features, casting alluring shadows that emphasized her every curve and contour. Her skills were bewitching and I knew they extended through everything she did, making me yearn to be close to her, to feel the electricity of her touch.