cowboy like me.

—   it took new york to make me a cowboy.

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His niece’s birthday was later today. She was turning six and this was apparently a big deal. She’s growing up, Santino, this is a big one, his sister claims why she wipes her motherly tears. And Santino couldn’t help but smile and playfully roll his eyes. Things were going well until the cake arrived and it said Carlos instead of Carla, which was his niece’s name. His poor sister basically had a heart attack in the middle of their childhood home. “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it. Give me, I don’t know, an hour? I’ll be back.”

At times, it felt as though Santino’s body was giving out. He was often aiding wounds and attempting to ease any and all aches. And today was no different, even in the face of his pursuit to shop for food. His hands shake as he tries to pick up multiple heavy grocery bags. 

“If I ever get that stubborn and grumpy, you better put me outta my misery.” Yeah Santino was older than him but he always assumed he’d be the first out of the Ward siblings to go. “He doesn’t appreciate much, I doubt he cares if I’m here or not.” Though that was probably more true for Liza than him. 

“We just gotta hoist you up there, it ain’t that hard.” The machine bulls were easier and way more predictable anyways. “But if you really ain’t feelin’ it, we’ll throw some darts around. Last time I almost nicked someone’s hair, though.” He admitted as they made their way to the car. “How many shots is it gonna take for you to get up there and sing?” 

“Oh, you know I will. Though, I might not be around to see it happen.” In truth, Santino was beginning to worry about Buck more than ever. He might have been worried about all the Ward siblings simultaneously which only increased his worry when it came to one on one time with the siblings. “What? Don’t say that, Buck. He’s a hard ass but I know deep down he’s happy to have you around.” Hard ass was the understatement of the century, especially when it came to Jim. But perhaps Santino was too much of an optimist in every sense of the word, so he often did everything in his power to shine a light onto anything that was good. Even if it meant a lukewarm state of denial in regards to Jim Ward.

Santino gets into the driver’s side, carefully shoving the keys into the ignition as he waits for Buck to climb in. “I’d much rather get up there and sing my heart out than ride that damn bull.” Santino continues, more laughter bubbling from him. 

Liza wonders if he’d been contemplating this move at all — if he’d maybe even decided the moment she texted him that tonight would be the night he finally made a move on her, and then chickened out at the last minute. But that thought quickly vanishes as it comes, because Santino isn’t that calculated. He is genuine and good and he’s remained that way since she’s known him, since they were twelve years old running through the fields of the ranch while their fathers talked about business and politics and all of that other grown up stuff the two of them didn’t give a shit about. His earnest sincerity and integrity are why they’ve never managed to cross the line they’ve drawn, and why Liza’s never just taken matters into her own hands and gotten what she wants from him. He is the one thing in her life that’s remained untarnished by her erratic behavior and she’s so afraid that if they go too far, she’ll ruin him too.

Not that they haven’t come close. It seems like every time she’s alone with Santino they get a little too close for comfort, really, and their breath will mix together and their noses will nearly bump before they come back to themselves, or he’ll look at her so intensely like he’d done just now and she’ll break her gaze away from him so she can stop feeling like she wants to shed her own skin. But that hasn’t happened in quite some time and Liza realizes, as they’re taking the road to his home and he tells her he’s got coffee on already, that this is the first time in a long time that the two of them have been alone together. The thought is crippling in itself, and Liza’s quick to get another quip in before she freezes up and chokes on her own sentimentality. “Aw shucks, honey, coffee just for me? I must be the luckiest girl in the world,” she teases him, putting on an old-timey Lucille Ball-esque accent to go along with it just to make sure any shakiness in her voice is covered and hidden away.

The home they pull into is nice — on the smaller side from her perspective, maybe, but well maintained and much better than his old cot at the bunkhouse. Liza marvels at it, a sense of pride washing over her at how well he’s done for himself, and then dread follows suit at the fact that she hadn’t been around to see it. She’s broken from her reverie when he opens the passenger’s side door, though, and she blinks at him once, twice — and then obediently hands him her shoes before situating herself to get out of the car. “Why, you gonna stab me with a heel? Probably would’ve been smarter to take me out into the mountains if that were the case, not very bright to make the scene of the crime your own home.”

Was he foolish to bask in her light? Maybe, but it was a light he couldn’t avoid. Especially when she’s here with him now, opting for silliness rather than her usual steadfast harshness. A harshness he boded with gently, a harshness he would never question because she was her and he was him and no matter what, they made sense. And this made sense too, the jokes and the laughter, all under a darkened sky as they approach his home. All he wants to do is savor the moment for as long as he could, even as he’s stepping out of the car and moving to her side. 

In an instant, she’s joking about her heel and, fittingly, murder. Santino can’t help but laugh, feeling like all his insides are suddenly glowing and golden-colored. “How do you know this is my main home? I might have many...” He argues in response, his brows quirking upward in amusement. “This could very easily be the murder home or whatever you’d like to call it. Also, the heel is just too easy. Come on, Liza.” Laughter weaves through his words, the apples of his cheeks burning as he leads her up to the front of his house. It’s nothing fancy, nothing that could measure up to what Liza Ward truly deserves, but it’s enough for now. He hopes a pot of coffee will suffice for the lackluster nature of his living situation.

He plucks his keys from his back pocket and carefully pokes his housekey through the lock. And, in classic Santino fashion, he holds the door open for Liza. “After you, mi querida.” He says warmly, nodding to the inside of his home. His keys are placed on the table beside the front door, Santino closing it once he’s also inside. He removes his jacket soon after, hanging it from the hook near the front. “Kitchen’s to the right.” He says, padding behind her before circling into the kitchen. The pot was settled on the counter, right where he left it before heading out to pick Liza up. 

STATUS — open LOCATION — riverside park

“There’s a trash can like three feet away.” Becky huffs, stooping down to pick up the crinkled water bottle in the middle of the walking path. She’s usually not one to jump up on a soap box like this but for whatever reason, she finds the litter especially annoying today. Maybe it’s because Holly, the Australian shepherd at her heels, had taken it upon herself to try and make a chew toy out of it. Or maybe the heat is just getting to her. “This is why the planet is falling apart. People have no respect for it.” 

As a naturally empathetic person, Santino feels a sudden bout of frustration course through him. “La escuchaste?” He calls out to the person who had just littered, Santino’s words causing them to turn around. 

❝ OPEN STARTER.

LOCATION: Neon Moon. SETTING: sunday @ 10 pm. TAGGING:gf:starter

With her third whiskey neat underway (and no real motivation to quit anytime soon) Phoebe turned her attention towards the one beside her, once their order was finally placed, “Kinda’ a real shit hole, isn’t it?”, she chuckled before the rim of the glass touched base back down towards her lips. All the more bitter about the choices she had made leading up to this point in her life — surrounded by pointless strangers and late-night calls, it wasn’t the ideal way to spend her Sunday night. But, it was all she had come to know again during the past seven years since her return. Defeated, Phoebe shrugged her shoulders, “Eh, you get used to it — the sights…the smells. ” slightly, her nose crinkled up, as she twirled the minuscule remains of her drink at the bottom of the glass, before getting the bartender’s attention. “Yeah, can i get another, please? and — uh, —” still one to remember her manners, she turned to the one sitting next to her and questioned with a slight buzz to her voice, “Can I get you anything? It’s the least I can do for going on and on like this?”

“It has a kind of - misplaced charm, I suppose...” Santino muses in response, his eyebrows quirking upward in amusement. Most of the establishments within Great Falls had a particular small-town feel, even with as large as this place actually was. Still, it fell victim to the stereotype, and while it can be charming it can also be a tad cliché, maybe even a little rundown due to the fact. 

Liza would love to pretend to be annoyed by his hounding her on her Spanish, but Santino’s never gotten on her nerves before and if the stupid grin that’s made a home on her face is anything to go by, he won’t be getting there any time soon. “If I haven’t learned it now, I’m never gonna fucking learn it. And I’m especially not gonna learn it while I can barely understand English.” The glassy look in her eyes has eased up a bit, though, her swaying steadied seemingly just by his solid presence. Something about Santino always manages to ground her, even in her most feral state.

So she gets in the vehicle without a fight, swinging herself up into the seat and slamming the door shut as he asks where they’re going. Truthfully, she doesn’t quite know yet but as long as it isn’t Ward Ranch she doesn’t really give a fuck. Liza turns swiftly to tell him as much, opens her mouth and everything when she’s cut off by his hand grazing her skin, so gently she almost doesn’t realize what’s happening at first. It shocks her — freezes her in place as the pad of his finger moves across her cheekbone and for a second she thinks this is it, he’s going to cross a line they haven’t dared cross before. But it doesn’t make sense, that move would be far too bold and Santino has never been anything but a complete gentleman to her — and whatever image she’d conjured up in her mind of him leaning in closer to her, of her meeting him halfway there quickly dissipates when he pulls away and the spell that seems to have come over them, the one that made the last five seconds feel like two hours, is broken.

And Liza would rather fling herself right back out the car door than give him any sort of clue as to what she’d just thought was about to happen, so she abruptly lets out a snort, shaking her head at his antics when he shows her the stray eyelash that’d brought the whole thing on. She doesn’t play into these types of things, often categorizing wishes and superstitions and the like as giant crocks of complete and utter bullshit, but for Santino she’ll pretend — in her own brash way. “I wished for you to get me as far away from this dusty fucking parking lot as you can.” Liza settles back into his passenger seat comfortably, tries to pretend her heart isn’t just now coming down from the sensation of his hand on her cheek as she looks over at him and adds, quietly this time, “not home yet.”

He should’ve kissed her. He should have leaned in and took the plunge into uncharted waters. It was right there, tempting and deep. The blue of her eyes mesh with his own, blue and brown swimming. The thumping behind his ribs increases just as it did when he skid down that damn freeway on black ice. She was black ice and he was treading lightly as if he might break every bone in his body this time around. But, what did he really have to fear? The doom of love? Because he had loved her since the beginning, since he saw her under Jim Ward’s iron wing for the first time. And she was just as beautiful and just as tempting. Did he believe he may not survive a possible heartbreak by the hands of Liza Ward? Even he doesn’t know.

Still, he stays still, his dark eyes beginning to wander about her expression. He feels a tingle run up his hand and then his arm, the same arm that just reached out to touch her skin. When she finally speaks, Santino laughs, his head shaking in response. The sound is light, unable to dilute whatever brews between them. “Your wish is my command, mi querida.” He replies simply, his tone gentle. 

Not home yet. He could do that. Santino turns to the wheel again, putting his car in drive as he weaves his way out of the parking lot. The drive isn’t long and silence envelops them during it. And it’s a comfortable silence, at least, even with all his racing thoughts. He wonders where he could take her. By now, everything was either closed or in the process of closing. He drives down the road to his place after some thought, taking a turn into his neighborhood. “I just put the pot on before you messaged me.” Santino says, cutting through the silence, a subtle smile gracing his expression. He looks to her for just a moment before focusing back in on the road. “So, along with my Uber services, you also get some coffee to sober up.” He continues, another breathy laugh sounding from him. 

WHERE: Riverside Park WITH: Open!

Gabriel could only imagine how closely him, his seven year old daughter, and their blue heeler resembled the three musketeers as they strolled through the park– or perhaps it was more accurate to call them the three blind mice. Lochlyn, in all her curiosity, couldn’t stop chasing after every little thing that moved, and Ozzie, in his own misplaced obedience, couldn’t stop trailing after her. And then there was Gabe…dashing after them both, a task that even all of his months in physical therapy hadn’t fully prepared him for. It wasn’t a huge problem, though– at least not until Lochlyn dropped Ozzie’s leash and the dog made a beeline straight for another person. “Goddamnit,” Gabe muttered under his breath as he tore after the pair. Sharp twinges of pain shot up and down his left leg with every stride, but the man didn’t slow up until he reached them. Grasping Ozzie’s leash in one hand before he could take off again, he reached for Lochlyn’s hand with the other and offered his newfound company a sheepish smile, “Sorry about that.” Laughing a little breathlessly, Gabe shrugged his shoulders, “Honestly not too sure who needs the leash more– my dog or my kid.” Though as soon as the words left his lips, he cringed at how they might be perceived and jumped to cover his tracks, “That was a joke.” The last thing he needed was some stiff with no sense of humor calling Child Protective Services on him. 

Camila and Santino Sr were around here somewhere, most likely holding hands and smelling brightly colored flowers. Santino’s parents had the kind of love that you found in romance novels and films. He spent most of his childhood marveling at their love, hoping one day to find what they have. Now in his 40s, the search had become daunting. Still, Santino was optimistic. 

It was hard for Buck to watch his dad go. Even though his dad wasn’t the mushy type, he was still his dad and Buck had a lot of respect for him. His dad helped him find his purpose, so even if sometimes Buck wanted to tell off the old man for being so damn…himself, he was just going to suck it up and do whatever his dad said on top of helping out around the ranch. 

“I’m glad you can tell, cause I never can with him.” Everyday for Jim just seemed to be the same and Buck honestly never asked how he was cause he was sure that Jim wouldn’t tell him the truth anyways. “At least he’ll be outta our hair.” Jim was a pain in the ass while sick, he wasn’t going to beat around the bush about that. “What am I don’ tonight? Hanging with you, Sant,” His tone began to change, happy to have a distraction. “Hell yeah. Are we goin’ to Neon Moon? I sorta wanna show you up on the mechanical bull.” 

After knowing the Ward family for so long, he can always recognize when they were in a tough spot. And this was certainly a tough spot, especially for Buck. They were all playing the long game, attempting to gather their composure at every corner, and Santino wishes he could make it better. But all he could do was offer a helping hand in hopes that it might suffice. 

“He’s a stubborn man, that’s for sure.” Santino says, looking to Buck, “But I’m sure he appreciates you stickin’ around to help.” The older man offers, hoping it might patch up any of Buck’s internal wounds in regard to Jim. Still, words were just words, and his father was dying. But Santino does what he can regardless. 

in the freezer aisle, delilah contemplates one of life’s great mysteries. / OPEN, great foods.

she’s got a half-eaten twizzler caught between her teeth, the ungnawed end dangling from her mouth and held onto absently by a set of manicured fingers, looking like some glossy and defective factory doll with the pull me string coming out the wrong end. she’s all red-dress red-heels perfectly-curled-platinum hair bent over and absorbed in a back-of-the-package recipe for poke cake that she’ll never make, brimming cart pushed to the side and freezer door held open with one silk-covered hip. her heels, when she shifts weight from one hip to the other, clack  against the grocery store linoleum.

all in all, it’s a little like looking at a fawn that’s wandered into the middle of aisle twelve and learned to open a fridge.

her concentration, like every other aspect of delilah, is complete and consuming up until it isn’t. the hold this pleasantly simple recipe has on her is broken when she hears the approaching steps of another shopper, her eyes as big as the misplaced doe she resembles when she turns.

“how’s it they put so few calories in this, do ya think?” she tilts a pack of strawberry jello in their direction, gaze falling back to the package. the candy flops in her other hand, curling backward like a spring flower on a timeline. “isnt it just as sweet as your first real kiss?”

Shopping for his mother was always a struggle. She was a very specific woman, especially when it came to food. She was preparing for a party, something for her and her neighbors to enjoy in order to celebrate the beginning of summer months approaching. The list was as long as anything, Santino trapped in one aisle after another as he attempts to curate all that he can from his mother’s specific instructions. 

Vanilla ice cream. Regular and sugar free. He pads down the nearest aisle, his dark eyes surveying the shelves. Who would want sugar free ice cream? Santino thinks to himself as he ventures down the frozen section, inhaling a deep breath. He happens upon a woman dressed as if she was going to a film premiere and he’s quick to wait his turn, as she was positioned just near where he needed to go. 

Andi turned her head to look at the men who were fighting in the corner. Most likely over a girl that wasn’t interested in either of them but they were more concerned with who had the bigger dick. She’d grown tired of the shouting and the threats, rolling her eyes at each one. “I’m half tempted to go over there and stand behind one of them and toss a beer. It would get things started. Maybe I should walk around and rack up some bets beforehand. Might as well get paid for the pain of listening to them.” Her eyes rolled. “Either that or we have shots in an attempt to drown them out.”

open starter for everyone at the griffith

Santino’s desire for a quiet evening being ruined by a pair of disgruntled men came as no surprise to him. While Great Falls was beautiful and obviously scenic, it certainly had some notable characters. His eyes drift as well, landing on the two bar patrons who start getting in each other’s faces. 

The night has started and ended with Liza in a tough spot. She’d gone to the county fair with every intention of being a good daughter, of saving the day for dear old dad and doing something nice for him in his ailing state, even if he’d barely bat an eyelash when she offered to do so. That alone had put her in a foul mood, and as the night went on and she subjected herself to the small town bullshit she’d previously swore up and down to be abandoning forever, it only got worse. It’d be more fun if he was here — the thought had drifted in and out of her consciousness more than once as the night progressed, gnawing at her like a dog with a bone. It’d make the disgusting smells worth it, make the dust feel less grimy as it settled on her skin. They’d play the stupid games like they’re kids again and he’d make her smile despite her claims that she’s having a terrible time and then they’d sit on the edge of the parking lot like she’s doing now, puffing on one of his cigars and sharing some whiskey they’d stolen from behind the bar.

But now she sits on the edge of the parking lot alone — too drunk to drive but too stubborn to admit defeat and let someone else do it for her. It’d be embarrassing and Liza hates embarrassment, and fuck if she’s going to subject herself to a lecture from Thatcher or let someone she barely knows get behind the wheel of the cattle truck she’d stolen for the night. She’s stuck until she sobers up or until she abandons her pride, and unfortunately the latter seems like a more plausible option. So she texts the only person in the world she’d accept help from without a fight — four simple words and Santino’s there in minutes, grinning at her with the window rolled down like no time has passed at all.

“Fuck you. I hate when you do that.” It’s a lie — Liza has always found his incessant need to taunt her in his first language overly endearing, but she’s too drunk to try and figure out what the fuck he’s saying to her, even if it’s a pretty easy guess. Her eyes squint against the bright lights of his own truck, a hand moving to act as shield until she settles herself onto his car door, all but leaning through the open window as she reaches inside to let her shoes drop to the passenger’s seat floor. The familiarity of the act is so jarring that she almost backs away, almost straightens herself up and gets into his vehicle without a snarky comment or any resistance — but she wouldn’t be Liza if that were the case. “Thought I ordered an Uber, not a cowboy. Really can’t rely on any technology out in these parts, can you?”

The rhythmic thump of his heart steadily increases, the apples of his cheeks warming in her presence. Liza’s steadfast harshness was a thing Santino never questioned. He liked her this way, fierce and authentic. It reminds him of when they were kids, the two of them playing pirates on her father’s ranch until the sun went down. She remained a constant, her personality still the same. And that might have been what drew him to Liza in the first place, especially as a scrawny eleven year old who just wanted to make friends in a new country. She stood out, stark red hair, and a concrete personality to match. In the same regard, Liza might have also ruined all of his expectations, as he looks for her everywhere and in everyone.

“How else are you supposed to learn Spanish?” He asks jokingly, still looking through the open window. “I’ve been trying to teach you since we were children.”

When she’s tossing her shoes in, his smile widens, a chuckle escaping him. He feels his abundance of nerves remain, stirring inside his stomach. Once she’s inside, he thinks to just take her home and call it a night, but he doesn’t. Who was he to resists Liza Ward? He’s never been able to, even after over a decade apart. The thought alone makes his head reel. Over a decade and she was all he saw. In dreams, in walking life in the shape of other people who didn’t compare, and in the face of her family. “Oh, you didn’t know? Montana provides cowboy Uber services only.” The man jokes in return, the smile on his face never faltering. 

“Be careful, alright? The last thing we need is for you to get kicked in the chest by a horse, yes?” Santino says to a new hand, running his hand along one of the Ward’s horses. Hiring new recruits on the ranch was always tedious, especially since Jim Ward was a particular kind of man, as well as stubborn and hard-headed. While people like Santino and Babe remained on his good side, it was a chore to keep things in line regardless. 

Long work days on the ranch meant pain everywhere. It’s a good pain, mi hijo, remember that. His father’s voice sounds in his mind, a reminder as to why he was so deeply hardworking, even in the face of pain. Santino came from a line of determined people and he’ll be damned if the line ends with him. 

As the day comes to an end, he rests in the Ward’s kitchen after checking up on Jim. It was hard seeing him the way that he was known, stubborn and close to the end. It makes something inside of Santino to break and he can only wonder how the Ward kids are doing right now, especially Buck and Thatcher. Liza’s dynamic with him was a different story, it seems.