Eric pulled his '99 Impala over on the dusty dirt road to look at the map again. This had to be the right place⦠right? He noticed a hand painted sign on the side of the road when the dust had settled.
'Big Sky Ranch - this way'
Well. That's where he was headed. He put his car back in drive and continued down the road just a little slower, this time.
He'd signed up for this job in a desperate moment. He'd found it online during a late night google search. Eric was always searching for something, he just wasn't exactly sure what. He was lost. He'd been living on a dirty single mattress on the floor of a shitty apartment in Philly. He was out of money, his lease was up, he hated his job in the grimy pizza shop and he wanted something different. So he'd applied for the beginner ranch hand program at "Big Sky Ranch" because nothing could be further from this place than a bunkhouse in Montana.
Apparently this place was both an all ages camp and a working ranch and farm. They paid fairly and would hire pretty much anyone. New hires would go through a 4 week training program and at the end, they could apply for specific jobs within the different functions of the property. How hard could ranch work be anyway? He'd get to see the west. Do some physical labor. Maybe start writing the next great American novel.
He pulled into the ranch, driving under a big sign that read, unsurprisingly, "Big Sky Ranch," and parked next to a beat up pick-up truck. His piece of shit car was covered in dust and his Pennsylvania plates were barely visible.
He tugged his black leather jacket on and headed for what seemed to be the front office.
A genial older woman met him inside. "Well Hi there honey, are you one of the new trainees?" she asked him.
"Uhh, yeah. I'm Eric Coulter." He said, set a little off kilter by the absence of any trace of east coast sneer in the woman's question. "Well that's just terrific. I am Jeanie. We're happy to have you here. Jackson here is gonna show you to the trainee's bunkhouse. Better go claim yourself a bunk before all the good ones are gone." She patted him on the arm and pointed him in the direction of Jackson, a curly haired man in his mid 30's with wire framed glasses and birkenstocks.
Jackson took one look at Eric and said. "You're not from around here are you?"
Where he was from, Eric didn't stand out. He'd have been inconspicuous in his fitted black jeans, black vans, black band t-shirt, and black motorcycle jacket. One arm was fully sleeved in tattoos, that continued over his shoulder and onto his ribs. He wore black plugs in his gauged earlobes and had a severe, short haircut. At Big Sky, he looked like he could've been from another planet.
"Uhh. No."
"First time out west?"
"Yep."
Eric didn't continue the conversation as he followed Jackson to his new home, his heavy duffle hefted over his shoulder, sweating in his leather jacket.
"All right. Home sweet home," said Derrick once they were on the porch of a large wooden building. "Life here is very... communal. This is the bunkhouse. It houses all temporary staff. Dinner is at 6 in that building right over there, the dining hall." He pointed across the dusty thoroughfare. "You'll get a full tour of the property tomorrow. Once you're done settling in you'll need to move your car to the employee lot. Here's a map so you can find it. Need anything else?"
"Nope. Thanks." said Eric, shoulder aching with the weight of his duffle. He shouldn't have dragged in all these books... He just wanted to put his bag down.
"Great. See you at dinner." With that, Jackson was off.
Eric pulled open the bunkhouse's screen door and headed in. The front room was full of old mismatched couches and threadbare armchairs arranged in comfortable groupings. There was a bookshelf full of worn paperbacks off to one side and another spilling over with board game boxes.
Through the entryway. He found a couple of rooms full of floor to ceiling bunk beds. Eric put his duffle on an undisturbed bottom bunk in a quiet looking corner. He peered through another doorway and found the bunkhouse's community bathroom.
He wasn't used to a ton of privacy. He had shared a shitty apartment in Philly with a couple of roommates but shower stalls in a community bathroom was definitely going to be an adjustment. Jackson wasn't kidding when we said the living would be "communal." He shrugged off his jacket and laid it on his bed before heading out to move his car. He took the long way back from the employee lot, partially because he wanted to see more of the ranch and partially because he misread the map, and arrived back at the bunkhouse just before dinner.
A line had already formed outside the dining hall as people queued up for the evening meal. He quietly joined the back of the line and pulled a worn paperback from his pocket. He found the place he'd left off and folded the pages back so he could keep the book open with one hand.
He waded into the pages of his care-worn copy of On the Road and let's Kerouac's American west spring up around him. After a few minutes, he felt a small tap on his shoulder.
"What are you reading?"
He turned to find a small woman with dark eyes and even darker curly hair behind him, smiling. She wore a copper colored tank top, cuffed jean shorts and short brown work boots.
"Uhh, On the Road. Kerouac." He said, surfacing reluctantly.
"Ah. Very on theme for being out here. You don't look familiar to me. Is this your first time at Big Sky?"
He nodded.
"I'm Scarlett. I'm a full time staffer. I run the Arts & Crafts program for the summer camp among other things." she said, smiling up at him.
Her smile felt like sunshine. He felt blind sided by it and his words lagged a bit.
"Eric. I'm Eric."
"Where are you from Eric?"
"Chicago but most recently Philly"
"The Windy City huh? I am a former urbanite myself actually. I grew up just outside New York City."
Just then an older woman emerged from the dining hall looking a bit stressed. "Can anyone help with the water jugs?" She called.
"On my way, Carole." Scarlett called back.
She squeezed Eric's forearm. "See you around ok?" and jogged off, disappearing through the dining hall's double doors.
During the many, many hours it took him to drive here from Philly, he'd done nothing but imagine what life would be like here, what he had gotten himself into. But he had not considered for one second, what the other people would be like, or at least not in any serious way. He'd imagined mostly John Wayne types who wouldn't talk to him much. But he hadn't imagined this, he hadn't imagined her.
About half way through the meal, the genial woman from earlier appeared in the center of the room with a microphone. She was with a fit looking man about her age with a short grey beard and a cowboy hat. She addressed the room."Hi y'all. I am Jeanie, but you already know that. On behalf of David," she indicated to the man beside her, "and myself I just want to welcome you to Big Sky Ranch. For some of you, this is the start to another wonderful year with us. For others this is your first 'Ms. Edna dinner.' I know how good her food is so I'm gonna make sure I let you get to eatin' it but I am just so honored to welcome you all into the Big Sky family. I also need to remind you about tonight's Welcome Event, the social dance! You'll find it in the dance hall just about a quarter mile down the path. It's not mandatory, but attendance is strongly encouraged."
The food truly was good. It was the best beef stew Eric has ever had over a warm, perfect baked potato. But there was no chance in hell he would be attending a "social dance." What even was that? A square dance? A barn raising? He scoffed to himself.
When dinner broke up and the others started to head for the dance hall Eric slunk off for a private-ish shower and tucked back into his book. Sure, he was reading it for the 47th time, but he took comfort in the familiar story of a man looking for meaning and freedom as he travels west.
