COWBOYS AND BELLES |03| © Set in 2020's | Cowboy! Elias 'Stack' x Teacher! Pearline 'May'
Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Cursing, Killing, Trauma
Previous : Ⅰ, Ⅱ
Stack’s arm burned from the steady rhythm — sawing, sanding, hauling, hammering — the kind of work that don’t leave your hands clean for long.
The fence line had been fighting him all afternoon but he’d finally got the fence base to settle right, but the steps were waiting on him next.
It shouldn’t have been a hard job, except the sun was working just as hard. By four, sweat had him good. His shirt was knotted— tied the same way he’d learned as a boy, watching men who never complained about heat. His real hat hanging off the porch swing. Dust caked his boots. His jeans were on their third life today, grass-stained and honest about it.
The house was quiet. Pearline left with Delilah while he was still working the gate—said she was riding down to see family which left Stack minding the house and the animals — same as always.
His phone vibrated in his back pocket, buzzing against sweat-warmed denim. He didn’t check the screen before answering.
“Stack, my nigga, where you been?” The voice burst through the speaker.
Stack set the phone down on the porch railing and put it on speaker, grabbing his hammer again. "Round the way,” he said, lining up the claw and testing the bite on a buried nail. “What’s up?”
Stack wedged the claw of the hammer under a nail, yanked. The board groaned but didn’t give. “Me and Anothny headin’ down to the track. Ain’t seen you out. You comin’ or what?”
Stack let the thought linger. Been a minute since he’d gone to the track for real — last time was fooling with his brother, racing just for fun. “Track, huh? Ain’t heard nothin’ ’bout it.”
“The crew started somethin'. Nothing crazy, just a lil fun"
“Something good,” he asked slowly, “or something that’ll have Smoke lookin’ at me sideways?”
The mah laughed. “Man, your brother a sheriff, not ya daddy.”
“Feel like both sometimes,” Stack muttered. “He already told me he ain’t savin’ me next time.”
“Man, I’d tell you the same. But nah — ain’t no mess. Just a little fun mid-week.”
“A’ight, lemme see if something shakes”. The line clicked dead.
He went back to the plank, but the last nail sat too deep for the hammer to grip. He stared at it, jaw tight, then straightened up. “Stubborn,” he muttered.
He walked toward the shed, sweat sliding down his back. He was looking for a pry bar — but his eyes landed on the crowbar Pearline had pointed out earlier.
He grabbed that instead.
“If you don’t wanna come out,” he murmured to the board on his way back, “I’ll just take the whole thing up.”
Back at the steps, he slid the crowbar under the stubborn board and eased up slow so he wouldn’t gouge the foundation. The wood creaked, and resisted before eventually giving in
“There you go", the board popped loose, and he worked it free with a firm tug. He tossed the old plank aside and reached for the new brown boards waiting on the porch. Laid them one by one, neat and straight like he liked things, then set four nails to each side — just enough to hold — and looped back around to finish them proper. His hammer thudded a steady beat and when he was done, he put his boot to the edge, testing for any wobble. Solid.
When he stepped back, a small smile tugged at his mouth. The color was a tad lighter than the house— not perfect. But it was sturdy.
He dusted his hands and reached for his bottle of hot water, that sun had turned it into tea, when a flash of familiar purple slid into view at the road. His mouth tipped up without him meaning to. He cleared off the porch path without thinking, moving the stray bucket and the crowbar so she could walk up clean.
Pearline's eyes narrowed like she needed to rub them and check the picture twice.
But the picture was right.
She killed the engine and swung her legs out. “Mighty hot out, huh?” she teased first thing.
“Maybe, just a little,” he said, voice easy.
She shut the door and came up slow, taking him in. Stack sat on the edge of the porch beside the new steps. Dark-washed jeans clung low on his hips, stained at the knees. Boots worn but strong. Bare chest smooth and broad — broader than his shirts ever suggested. Chocolate skin caught the late sun, scars tracing faint stories along his sides near his waist. He looked like a man who could carry two bales without losing breath and still laugh at somebody’s joke on the way.
“You enjoy ya' trip?” he asked before finishing his water.
Pearline caught herself before smiling too wide. “It was… nice. Heard more ‘remember when’ stories than I have in years.”
“Still can’t believe Delilah ya' cousin,” he added. “Kin come in all ways, huh?”
She laughed. “What? Me and Delilah ain’t all that different. I just flip my accent when I feel like it.”
He gave her a look. “Ain’t nobody like Delilah,” he laughed, tipping the headwrap back with two fingers. “Girl wilder than I ever been"
“And how wild is that, Elias?” She halted on the step, chin tilted.
He leaned back on his hands. “Nothin’ I can testify to right now," he grinned then paused. “Might've got into a little trouble once or twice.”
Pearline stood going back in forth in her mind whether she should push or not but Elias seemed like a person who didn't mind sharing or at least in her eyes. “You asked me where I’m from the other day,” she said, eyes on him. “But I still don’t know where you hail from...Born and raised?”
“Little bit o’ Texas in me,” he said, shoulder to the post, “but didn’t take long to find where I wanted to be.”
“You're so vague,” she shot back. “If you want me to feel safe with a man I don’t know, walking my parents’ property like it’s his," She said folding her arms “I’m gonna need more than a cowboy mystery.”
He chuckled. “Born in Cleveland,” he said, giving it plain. “Left when I was five, six for Texas ’til I got tall enough. Came back and stayed.”
“Daddy and Mama?”
“Mama still in Texas — her people down there. Daddy from here. He passed when me and my brother were nineteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head gently. “Don’t be. Daddy lived good. Built what he wanted. Left happy and somethin' to pass down"
She studied him differently after that. “So, that a family ranch?”
“Forty years runnin’.”
“Both you and your brother work it?” the next question came quick but Elias didn't mind. “Nah. Mostly me. Smoke ain’t see his life in ranch work. Went on and became the sheriff instead.”
Pearline raised a brown, “You like the work?” she asked, echoing the way he’d asked her things before.
Stack’s mouth curved. He liked the way she noticed. “I love it. Ain’t never dreamed of doing nowhere else.”
“Mmm. Ever tried?” she wondered
He shook his head. "No, ma'am"
“Then how you know you not missing out on something?” Pearline’s curiosity was soft and almost as if she was searching for an answer beyond of what she asked
He looked at her—then really looked. “I’m always gon’ miss out on something,” he said, his accent thickened just a touch, smooth as honey. “A man can’t be everywhere at once, darlin’. I just chose where and what mattered most.”
She laughed softly. “We might be opposites.”
“How so?”
“I want see everything...Might be far-fetched but every place, every book, every movie, every restaurant...every country" She sighed. “I wish I could be everywhere all the time.”
He studied her like she was something complicated. “That life get busy tryin’ to live like that.”
“It does. But I love when the experience outweighs the stress.”
Stack went quiet a beat, eyes sliding to his truck, then to the fresh lumber stacked by the rail. “You stressed?”
Pearline squinted, taken off-guard by the sudden care in his voice. She shrugged. “A little.”
“Well,” he said, standing and rolling his shoulders, “I got an experience for you.”
“Out here?” Pearline’s eyes danced. He nodded. “Where you gon’ take me that I ain’t been? I grew up here too, you know.”
“You ain’t had this,” he said, grin going a touch softer now that she was close. “You put on some pants and boots, we can head out.” He thumbed toward the front door and stepped aside to make room
“I didn’t agree ye—” She caught herself when he straightened and asked it proper.
“Excuse me, Miss Pearline,” he said, voice dropping low and warm. “Would you like to take a ride with me?”
“Will I be informed of where?” she bargained, fighting the smile.
“I could tell you,” he said, playful, “but it ain’t much of a real place.”
“Try me.” She studied him
“It’s a track, way down past Fifth and Von,” he said, giving her something to hold. “Back behind the old grain barn.”
Pearline thought it through. Far as she remembered, Fifth and Von dead-ended near that ragged repair shop, and she couldn’t pull up a grain barn in her head. “Don’t sound too safe,” she said.
“Trust me — you’ll be safe with me,” he said, and it didn’t come out boastful, it came out true. “And you’ll be even safer with your boots on.”
“And what about you?” She flicked a look over him — dust, sweat, the whole sturdy frame. “If it’s so dangerous, what you gon’ do?”
Stack dropped his gaze to his hands and laughed under his breath. “I’m tough enough, Miss Pearline. Don’t worry ’bout me. And if it gets necessary, I got something I can throw on in the back of the truck.”
Pearline held him a second longer, then shifted her weight. “Alright. I’ll be right out.”
Stack nodded once. “Yes, ma’am.” He bent, gathered the loose nails and set them in the coffee can, wiped his palms on a rag so he wouldn’t leave dust on her doorknob, and watched the screen door hush behind her. The steps he’d laid held steady when he put his boot to them again, and that made him smile once again. Good work makes for a good feeling
He took his hat off the swing and shook the dust free, eyes already on the door she’d gone through, waiting.
“This somethin’ you do often?” Pearline asked, her gaze fixed out the passenger window as the road stretched thin and brown ahead of them.
Stack cut his eyes toward her, that easy, natural grin already settling onto his face like it belonged there. “What exactly?” he said amused.
“You know…” She shrugged lightly. “Ask people out. Go to the track and all that.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Thought I was just bein’ polite, askin’ you along. ‘Specially since I’m all up and through your property most days.” He eased the truck around a bend, then glanced back at her sideways. “Didn’t you say you wanted to get to know me a little better? For safekeepin’s sake.”
She turned from the window, eyes calm but thoughtful. “You answered my questions. I feel alright now.”
He waited a beat before responding, fingers tightening just slightly on the wheel. Normally, he’da said plain and simple that he just wanted her company — no ceremony, no overthinkin’. That had always been his way. But somethin’ about Pearline made him slow down. Whether she meant to or not, she carried herself like someone who didn’t move well through unsteady ground — like you had to be careful where you set her down. Felt a little too fragile to push and play with.
“It can be a stress reliever too,” he added after a moment. “My family found the place years back, while we was doin’ things we ain’t had no business doin’.” He shrugged. “It’s away from the city. Just dirt roads, no service, no law lurkin’. We go out there to let loose. Race. Fight. Do whatever’s on our minds that night.”
Pearline glanced at him then, noddin’ slowly. Not fully convinced— but interested enough. A stress reliever sounded like exactly what she needed. “So what’s the feelin’ today?” she asked.
He smiled, eyes back on the road. “Ain’t sure yet. Guess we’ll both find out when we get there.”
“When y’all find it?”
“‘Bout fourteen, fifteen.”
Her brows knit together. “That where you know my cousin from? The track?”
“Not from the track exactly,” he said. “But ‘round that time. Give or take.”
She tilted her head. “There you go bein’ vague again.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “That somethin’ better left in the past?”
“Ain’t really my past to tell.” Stack turned his head from the road, 'she knew smoke ‘fore she ever knew me.
She let that sit. “Your brother gonna be there too?”
He glanced over at her, amused. “Miss Pearline… you always ask this many questions?”
“Give or take,” she chuckled.
“I like it when you do that,” he said after a stretch of quiet. There was somethin’ softer in his tone now. “But I ain’t sure — haven’t been comin’ ‘round much lately.”
“Like what?” she asked, still watchin’ the trees slip by.
“I like the way you talk.” He said it plain, no hesitation. “Easy on the ears.”
She smiled faintly. “You can thank teachin’ for that. Can’t have an accent that—”
“Nah,” he cut in gently, grin crooked. “Ain’t that, darlin’. Your voice just pretty.” He paused, then added quieter, “Still hear home in ya, though. That part ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Her lips pressed together, a small warmth blooming in her chest before she could stop it. “Why, thank you,” she said, accepting it even as she looked back out the window.
“My pleasure.”
The truck tires groaned as Stack eased them over the uneven stretch of dirt and gravel, the whole thing rattling beneath them before coming to a stop. Dust settled slow in the headlights. He cut the engine and stepped out almost immediately. “We here,” he announced casually, already moving around to Pearline’s side.
Pearline lingered a second, reaching down to pull her boots back on. She’d kicked them off earlier, feet aching. As soon as she finished, the passenger door opened and Stack was already reaching for her hand. She hesitated only a beat before taking it.
“Thank you,” she said quietly as she stepped down, boots hitting dirt. Stack closed the door behind her with a firm click. “Air sittin’ heavy,” he said, glancing up at the sky.
Pearline glanced too. The air indeed felt thick, heavy on her skin. She pulled one of her braids forward, rolling it between her fingers. “It’s humid,” she said. “Feels like it’s sticking to you.”
“Mm. Yeah. Bugs love it too.” He looked back at her. “You want a hat?”
She nodded a little fast. “Yes. Please.” That earned a small smile. “Aight.”
She followed him around to the back of the truck, keeping close without meaning to. He hopped up easily and lifted a silver lockbox bolted to the bed. Inside were a few folded shirts, a worn hunting hat, and a can of bug spray.
While Stack searched, Pearline looked around. Open land. Stretching farther than she was used to. The kind of quiet that wasn’t really quiet—you could hear insects, the wind brushing against dry grass, something distant she couldn’t place yet.
Stack dropped back down beside her. “Turn ‘round for me,” he said, shaking the can.
Pearline stiffened slightly but did as told, drawing in a breath and holding it. She kept her chin tucked as he began spraying, moving around her slow, careful. She could hear the soft hiss, smell the sharp bite of it.
“Still,” he murmured when she shifted. She nodded to herself and stayed put.
When he reached to title her chin up, she jumped just a little. He noticed. “Got you,” he said, lighter now, “ain’t gon’ spray ya face.” The spray touched her neck, then her forearms again. The scent settled around her, sharp and clean, mixing with the heat in the air.
For a second, neither of them moved after. Then he stepped back. “There you go.”
Pearline opened her eyes slowly. She didn’t turn right away, not until she felt the space between them again.
When she did, he was already placing the hat on her head, adjusting it slightly—fingers brushing the edge, making sure it sat right. She touched the brim instinctively. “Thank you.”
He nodded once, watching her for a second before turning the spray on himself — quick and careless compared to how he’d treated her —then slipped on the red-and-brown button-up without bothering to close it.
Pearline waited, hands tucked into each other, unsure where to stand. She didn’t have to wait long. “This really is… the middle of nowhere,” she said, half to herself.
“Yeah.” Stack followed her line of sight. Off to the side sat a grain mill, worn and still. Just past it, the glow of a gas station light. Cornfields stretching out behind everything. “Used to be emptier than this.”
She turned back to him. “You ready?”
He raised a brow. “You askin’ me?”
She smiled shyly and nodded.
It wasn’t far — she realized that quickly — because she could hear everything before she could see it.
At first, it was just the sound of their steps—boots against dirt, brushing through patches of dry grass. Then, low engines revving, music drifting quietly and messy through the trees, cheers, the dull and heavy sound of hooves striking dirt. The closer they got, the louder it became
“Sure is a lot,” Pearline murmured, staying half a step behind him.
Stack reached into his pocket and checked his phone as they walked. “Seven o’clock,” he muttered. “Ain’t even properly started yet.”
Pearline glanced around, taking everything in. Lawn chairs formed loose circles, parked trucks sat wide open with kids perched in the beds, legs swinging while music thumped low from someone’s speakers.
“So it’s just… a cookout?” she asked, unsure.
Before he could answer, something flew past them fast enough to steal the rest of the sentence right out her mouth. A horse blasted through, hooves tearing up dirt, its rider hollering loud enough to shake the trees.
“Woo!” came a shout, followed by a woman’s voice snapping quick and sharp. “Told that motherfucker to speed up— I’m losin’ money on this.
"Smoke here" Stack smiled, he nodded toward where the horses disappeared around the bend. “Watch next time they come ‘round.”
They stood still as the horses circled again, trees blocking most of the view but not enough to miss the difference — one pulling ahead, one scrambling to keep pace.
Which one?” she asked quietly.
“The black horse,” Stack said, bending just enough to bring his voice down with hers. “Braid hangin’ forward.”
“He a racer?” she asked.
Stack shrugged, mouth tugging into a cocky half‑smile. “We do a’ight.”
She blinked. “We?”.
“Stack!”. Both their heads turned.
“C’mon,” Stack said, already moving. “Lemme introduce you.” He greeted the shorter man waiting nearby with an easy dap and a close shoulder pull. “What took you so long?” the man complained. “We already runnin’.”
“Man, it ain’t even been an hour since you called me,” Stack shot back, brushing him off.
The man scoffed and nodded toward the track. “Smoke got here before you.”
Pearline’s mouth pressed into a thin line. She glanced away briefly, guilt flickering across her face.
Stack shifted aside. “Anyways — this Pearline.”
The man’s irritation vanished instantly. “Well damn,” he said, eyes lighting up. “Pleasure to meet you, beauty.” Webby maneuvered from stack to Pearline
"Nigga I said Pearline"
Pearline smiled politely, stepping forward just a bit. She reached out her hand. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”
The man looked down at her hand, then back up, amused. “Handshake, huh?, "You from around here?"
"Lil bit, why?"
"Just around here these what we usually give" Webby stepped closer arms starting to reach out until stack hand reached out first, "She gave you what she was comfortable with" Stack objected
"Damn," Webby stepped back, "ain't nothing but a little southern hospitality"
“She cool,” Stack said. “Don’t press her.”
“Damn, damn,” Webby laughed, stepping back. “I’m jokin’. Nice to meet you, Pearline.”
"You bettin' or ridin?' Webby asked as the three of them cut through the crowd, dust curling up around their boots on the way towards the start of the track
Stack glanced ahead first, slowly his eyes flickering over the horses and the people gathered near the rail. "Ain't sure yet," he said, "gotta scope the scene first"
Webby snorted. "Scope the scene—mean looking to see who ass is competition". He grinned wide. "Worried Smoke gon' tap that ass again?"
Stack let out a short laugh through his nose. "Now you know damn well I won last time"
"Five outta twenty don't give you braggin' rights nigga"
Stack shook his head, "Imma start talking impolite in front of the lady if you keep on." he nudged Webby with his shoulder, "And I handle mine when I need to"
Webby kaughed, sharp and loud, "Put ya money where ya mouth is. Smoke comin' back round' now"
Stack turned just as a ripple of cheers rolled through the crowd. "Ayy, Smoke" Webby called
"This nigga bouta' start something, Stack muttered under his breathe he turned fully. Pearline turned too, curiosity wanting to put a face to the name. Her eyes stunned, moving back and firth between the two men- Stack, then Smoke, then Stack again. Identical. Same face, same build it looked like. Only visible difference being the clothes they wore
"You seen what I just did" Smoke smiled upon seeing his brother as he descended from his horse. "Nigga couldn't even do two laps talking all that shit" he bragged stepping up as Stack did, embracing in a hug with his brother.
"Somebody else talking shit" Webby, egged shamelessly pointing at stack with a grin etched on his face.
Smoked eyebrows raised "You tryna get this shit too" he spoke calm, tugging on the riegn to pull his horse closer.
"Don't yo old ass got a shift to cover" Stack trash talked, blowing him off as well
"I wanna see it" Pearline tugged at the end of Stack shirt making him turn back "I'll be my first time new experience". Stack grew a smirk at Pearline way of words, "I though you seen every thing"
"I stand corrected" She admitted easily
"And might this be" Smoke asked walking up closer
"Ahh that's Miss Pearline" Webby answered for her
Smoke tunred his head a little, the name flicking a light, "Mr and Ms May, Pearline? he asked
"Much obliged" she answered
"Nice to finally put a name to the face. Ya daddy talks about you an awful lot" he tipped his hat, letting her in on a secret
"He still does I see" She sent a small smile
"How he doing by the way, I aint seen him come down to the office lately"
"My daddy be at the sherif office?"
"Yea, used to come pretty often, took a liken to blue," He pat the tall horse on the side, "then just started coming for coffee and talks. Nothing to be worried about" Elijah assured her
"Thank God but he's been doing his best from what mama tells me. He's in the hospital right now but looks like he shouldn't stay too much longer"
"Aww that awfully unfortunate, I send him my prayers, Annie does as well"
"Thank you. I'll make sure to call and tell her" She smiled, thankful for the thoughts and prayers.
"Ight now you ridin' or what" Webby cut in
Pearline let go of his shirt, in a way pushing him to go and find a horse to saddle onto. He saw and chucked at her, already moving towards the horses that stood lined up, some getting feed carrots and apples
"Where yo hourse at" Stack asked Webby.
"You aint ride with yours?"
"It look like I could ride my horse down here? Where ya damn horse at"
"She ain't rode yet today so just warning ya if she not warmed up. She by the first bench," he pointed over as stack turned to where his finger pointed
"Yall got money on it" Webby askes Smoke as Stack walked away.
"One day, Imma put you in a cell for illegal gambling, don't be trying commit crimes in front of me"
"Everybody round here family who gone snitch, now you want in or not" He held up his hat that he put money in first
Smoke shook his head as he maneuvered back toward his horse, moving with practiced ease as he swung himself up into the saddle. The black horse stood steady beneath him, solid as a tank. Its coat gleamed in the fallen sun—deep black threaded with warm brown, the kind of sheen that looked brushed in careful strokes. Its tail hung long and wavy, trimmed clean, hooves shining like they’d just been worked on. The mane flowed freely down its neck, except for two neat braids laid gently forward along its face.
Pearline watched, quiet curiosity pulling her closer. “Is that… a childhood horse?” she asked, while Webby worked his way through the crowd, passing the hat around again.
Smoke glanced down at her, a hint of pride crossing his face. “Childhood horse turned police horse,” he said.
Her eyes widened a little. “He’s big,” she breathed. “Can I touch him?”
“Yeah,” Smoke said, nodding toward the horse’s side. “Just don’t get too close to the stomach or back, sensitive right there"
Pearline stepped forward carefully, reaching out and laying her hand near its neck. The coat was just as soft as it looked. She smiled without meaning to. “It’s been ages since I actually touched a horse.”
“Don’t see much of that in Jackson?” Smoke asked.
“Life doesn’t really call for it,” she said lightly. “Not much a teacher can do to run into a horse and pet it.”
Smoke leaned down slightly, crossing his arms at the top of the saddle, his posture easing. “You know… if your parents ever need anything, you can call the department,” he said after a pause. “I’ve spent a good amount of time with Mr. May these past few years. It’s… hurtful, seein’ the cancer come back.”
Pearline’s smile faded, eyes dimming just a touch at the sympathy, even though no one had been lost yet.
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “It hurts when I think too hard on it. Mama says Daddy’s tryin’ to keep strong. He won’t say much about the treatment—stubborn like that.”
Smoke smiled knowingly. “I'm familiar with that stubborn.”
Pearline let out a small laugh. “Right? I’ve been tryin’ not to blow up that hospital phone, askin’ for the room number every five minutes.” She glanced down at her hand still resting on the horse. “But really… thank you. It means a lot knowin’ Mama and Daddy weren’t just livin’ out here alone.”
“I know,” Smoke said. Then his gaze shifted, landing on Stack as he mounted his horse farther down the line. “And my brother—if he gives you any trouble, you can always call me.”
Pearline followed his look, watching Stack for a moment before turning back. “Why?” she asked honestly. “He’s been a good guest, far as I can tell.”
Smoke’s expression faltered—confusion and surprise flickering across his face. He nodded slowly, choosing not to answer, letting the question hang where it was.
"The hat coming around one more time, you in" Webby announced circling around Smoke
Smoke leaned back up shaking his head before pushing the reigns and leaving the area, 'He gone wish he did it" Webby mumbled. "I want to" Pearline said unsurely making Webby glance up, smile showing on his face.
"Oh city girl, you in?" he teased placing the hat in front of her. Pearline smirked at the nickname, before placing 5 dollars in the hat
"I see first time, better to be a little cautious"
"How high are the stacks?".
"Between these two? He motioned between the twins as they circled at the beginning of the track people magically crowding them as each second passes. "High as hell.
"How it's high if stack only won 5 out of 20 times"
"That's when money was not on the plate. What Stack said earlier he was right about. Must be something about losing money that Stack just don't like" Webby shrugged
"How long has this been going on" Pearline pointed around
"Before I got here"
"You wasn't born here?"
Webby shook his head, "Good ole Birmingham, Alabama is my birthing place. Came down here on a job offer 5 years an ago"
"Really? What you do?"
"Believe it or not stack himself sent for me. Offered me a job as wrangler, been here ever since" he explained
The crowd had thickened without Pearline noticing.
One minute she was listening to Webby talk, nodding along, trying to follow his words—and the next, her attention slipped right out from under her, tugged somewhere else entirely.
Stack.
He was already looking at her.
Not in some loud, showy way either. Just… steady. Like he’d been waiting for the moment her eyes found his . The moonlight began to shine low around the track, voices blurred together, but that look cut straight through it all. Then he did it—nothing big or obvious but a small tilt of his chin, barely there.
Come here.
Pearline hesitated.
Her fingers curled at her sides, heart skipping for reasons she didn’t have words for. She glanced at Webby, who was already half-turned away, phone at his ear, conversation forgotten. So she took a breath and moved, slipping through the crowd careful-like, watching her steps over roots and dry branches, the ground uneven under her shoes.
Stack didn’t look away once.
The closer she got, the quieter everything felt. His horse shifted under him, leather creaking soft, the late sun catching the dust on his boots. When she stopped in front of him, he was smiling or more so smirking.
“Ms. Pearline,” he said, slow drawl curling easy around her name. “You gettin’ real acquainted real fast, ain’t you?”
She shrugged, a little bashful despite herself, eyes dipping before lifting back to his. “Just… gettin’ familiar,” she said. “Is that a problem?”
He studied her like he was tryin’ to place a feeling he hadn’t planned on. His gaze flicked past her briefly—Webby still distracted—then came back, warm and curious.
“Nah,” Stack murmured. “Just makin’ sure I ain’t missin’ nothin’.” Before she could ask what that meant, he reached up and took off his hat.
Pearline barely had time to react before he settled it gently on her head, fingers brushing her hair by accident—or maybe not. The brim dipped low, just enough that she had to tilt her chin up to see him clearly.
His voice dropped, softer now. “Keep that safe for me, yeah?”. Then, just as easy, he pulled back, gathering the reins. “I’ll be right back.” The horse stepped away, moving toward Smoke’s, hooves crunching against dirt.
Pearline stood there a second longer than she meant to, heart thudding. She lifted her hands to the hat, fingertips brushing the brim. It was soft. Worn in. Like it had stories tucked into the creases.
It reminded her of her daddy—how he used to collect hats, even the ones folk said didn’t look like much. Except for some reason he said they were, often said the more things looked worn the happier the person was about it.
A sudden truck horn blared, sharp and loud. Pearline jumped just as two horses tore past, close enough that the wind from them brushed her face.
“Whoa—back up, girl,” Webby called, grabbing her arm gently and steering her farther off the track. “You gotta watch where you standin’.”
She nodded, breath uneven, clutching the hat tighter. Around her, the crowd shifted. Aunties climbed outta lawn chairs, uncles dropped grill tongs where they stood, kids got pulled back with firm hands. Whatever this race was, it mattered.
"I got money on you nigga" Webby yelled into the air stress already crowing his face despite the race just starting.
Pearline turned back toward the track just as the horses burst free of the trees, reappearing in full view of the crowd. Dust still hung thick in the air from the start, swirling and glowing in the afternoon light, but enough had settled for her to make out the shapes clearly now.
Smoke was out front.
He was folded low over the saddle, chest nearly brushing the horse’s neck, his posture tight and controlled. Both hands were locked hard around the reins, knuckles white, his face carved into focus. For a horse that big, Smoke’s stallion moved unnaturally fast—long, powerful strides eating up ground like it was nothing.
Not far behind him—maybe a foot, maybe less—was Stack.
He sat steadier, looser somehow. One hand held the reins in a lazy loop, the other free, adjusting when he needed. There was a grin on his face, but it didn’t fool anyone. His brow was creased, eyes sharp, reading every movement ahead of him as he shifted his horse just enough to stay clean in Smoke’s wake.
They hit the turn, and the energy changed.
Smoke cut tight toward the inside, forcing Stack to hesitate—just for a heartbeat—to reposition.
“Damn it, Stack! What the hell you doin’?” Webby shouted, catching it immediately. “Lean into it—you too stiff!”
Smoke glanced back for half a second, watching his brother fight the turn. Maybe he thought about stretching the lead. Maybe he thought about teasing him. Whatever it was didn’t last.
Smoke drove his heel into the horse’s side, and the stallion surged forward like he’d been waiting for it.
But then—white. Pearline saw it at the same time Smoke did. First the nose. Then the snout. Then the full bobbing head, closing the gap with every stride.
Smoke’s stern focus cracked, eyebrows lifting in surprise. “That’s what the hell I’m talkin’ ’bout!” Webby hollered, voice cracking with excitement. “Just hold her steady—she’ll get you there!”
Pearline didn’t know the mechanics of racing, not really. She knew horses. She knew the Southern love of it. But watching this—watching how Stack shifted his weight, how his body and the horse’s movement became one—she understood something new.
This wasn’t just about the animal. It was about the rider.
Stack moved forward in the saddle, posture changing completely. His once‑relaxed frame leaned in, eyes locked straight ahead like the rest of the world had narrowed down to one point. Horse and rider tunneled together, driving hard for the finish.
“Shit,” someone muttered nearby. “I just bet two hundred—Marley ’bout to beat my ass.”
“Y’all should’ve known better,” Webby shot back, loud and proud. “Quit wishin’ losses on my boy.”
Pearline glanced around, smiling at the chaos. The shouting, the laughter, kids darting through the background. It was rowdy, sure but not club‑rowdy and she took liken to it
She turned back just in time. Stack blew past the finish, Smoke right on his heels—but not close enough to argue it.
Webby was already laughing before the horses even slowed, slapping his thigh as he started toward the track. “I’m takin’ yo ass on the road,” he called out. “I’m tellin’ you, boy.”
Pearline followed behind him, taking it all in. Stack was still mounted, easing his horse down, the white stallion tossing his head like he knew exactly what he’d just done. Stack’s grin was wide—wider than she’d seen yet—and Smoke wasn’t far behind him, breath heavy, adrenaline still burning through his veins.
“You finally learn some new tricks,” Smoke said as he pulled up alongside him, voice rough, “or somebody light a fire under you?”
Stack let out a short laugh, turning his horse back toward the start. “You thought your ass was untouchable. That’s the problem.”
Smoke shook his head, eyes narrowing like he’d clocked something he’d been watching for. “I see you, lil’ ass. Don’t think you slick.”
Stack didn’t answer. He guided the horse forward, heading toward Pearline—but Webby stepped in first, pointing at the hat perched on his head.
“You done made me some money.”
“Over five?” Stack asked, still riding high.
“Maybe 7” Webby said. “Folks thought Smoke was gone put fire to yo like last time.”
Stack waved it off. “Keep it.”
He swung down from the saddle, boots hitting dirt, and immediately reached up to pat the stallion’s neck. “She need some water.” His voice softened just a notch before he turned toward Pearline.
“Well,” she said, stepping closer, eyes bright, “that was… interesting. I didn’t know you raced.”
He shrugged, like it was nothing, but the confidence hadn’t quite settled yet. “From time to time. Only with my brother, though.” He nodded back toward Smoke.
“And what’s this score I keep hearin’ about?” Pearline asked, fingers getting ready to give the hat back to Stack “And why they say you down?”
“You hear wrong.” He caught her wrist gently and set the hat back in place, palm lingering just a second longer than necessary. “I win when I want to.” The smirk finally showed.
She tilted her head. “So what made you want to win today?”
Stack paused, like he was thinking up something clever—but then he shrugged again. “New face. Can’t make a bad impression.”
He tipped the hat lower, bringing it just close enough to shadow her eyes. Pearline smiled. “Aw. I’m worth makin’ a good impression over?”
He looked at her for a beat, then nodded once. “Gotta brag on somethin’.”
HI!! Hi, I'm not gone say I'm back I was just able to write without feeling convicted about it but just in case because my stories will have violence, kissing, and other sins in it. Every story will have a disclaimer on each chapter because again my worst fear is to lead someone astray due to my writing.
If it gets too bad I literally just won't post what I write because I genuinely have too much in my head to not want to type. Anyway, Happy Sunday, Love Ya
