Different Place, Different Time

Author’s Note: I wrote this story for upper young adults, new adults, and older readers. It contains themes of sexuality and coming of age.

I’ve wanted to share this for a while, but some stories that authors write resonate in such a way that they seem private, almost. Garth Brooks’ song, ‘That Summer,’ inspired this story. I imagined the characters living with the memory of their moment–an experience of coming of age, which would change their life’s perspective.

Could be we may have some experience from our past, no matter how little or how big, that touches us in a way where we wish we could go back and create a different path. Either that or we sit with the memory all our lives, revisiting it when something reminds us of that time.

Different Place, Different Time is a fictional story about and after the memory of “That Summer.” (Song by Garth Brooks) - Garth Brooks, if this story crosses your path, I hope you like it, and thank you for the inspiration.

© 2025 by Patricia L. Atchison

Colt approached a turnoff from the main highway on his right. Might be a good change, he mused as he flicked on the signal light and lifted his foot off the accelerator. The tires of the four-by-four rolled off the dry pavement and onto the gravel, crunching a path while spewing small stones and dust in its wake.

He set the cruise at fifty, ignoring his guilty thoughts about not getting home to Jennie. His gaze swung to the Rocky Mountains in the west. The sun hovered above their jagged tops, ready to make its evening descent.

She’d be putting the twins to bed right about now. Jake and Jed would be fresh and smell baby-clean from their bath.

Ah, well, they’ll see me in the morning.

Colt yanked off his cowboy hat, dropped it on the seat next to him, and ran his fingers through his hair, loosening the hot, damp locks. He smiled, picturing Jennie placing a goodnight kiss on top of each of their boys’ bald heads before laying them side-by-side in their crib.

“One day you’ll have hair, little men,” Colt said, fiddling with the knob on the radio. Harsh static filled the empty cab. He winced and shut it off. A few miles down the road, he tried to whistle a tune, but soon gave up on that idea, his lips too dry to get any sound out. Instead, he focused on the crevices in the Rockies, darkening as the sun crested the mountain tops. Its last rays flooded the valley ahead with fingers of orange fluorescent light. The full harvest of wheat fields on either side of the truck, with their golden fronds swaying in the breeze, took his breath away and his mind to a far-off place.

Colt shook his head, not wanting to go there again–but damn it, he did. He wanted to go there and turn back the years.

And forge an alternative path.

God, how he loved Jennie and the boys. But back then, it was a different place, a different time. He grabbed his dusty hat and flipped it on his head, pushing down hard on the crown.

Damn it. I was a different man.

Colt pumped the brakes, cranked the wheel, and whipped onto a small entry access into a field. The truck rolled to a stop. The engine idled. Dropping his hands, he eyed the dashboard and turned the key.

Silence engulfed him.

Seconds drifted by before Colt felt courageous enough to look at what was in front of him. He knew the ‘memory’ would follow, and he’d find himself a prisoner of his past until, by his own choice, he escaped and faced the real world once again.

Colt lifted his eyes. The sky was aflame, with red tendrils splayed across the dusky grey canvas above. The fading light stroked the wheat standing tall in front of the truck. A shiver ran up his back and down into his shoulder. He shuddered, remembering.

It was a different place… a different time.

Damn it… he was a different man.

~~

Colt went to work for her that summer wearing faded blue jeans and a smile. Word around town was that she was a lonely widow. Picturing an older woman, he didn’t pay attention much to the gossip. When Ms. Lora Leigh Tanner crossed the yard with a purposeful stride, Colt stood transfixed. Her long, wavy strands of auburn hair shimmered with copper highlights, framing a round, tanned face. She greeted him with a self-assurance that none of the young ladies from his hometown carried.

Lora Leigh gave Colt a no-nonsense explanation of the workings of the ranch while directing him to the bunkhouse. She offered a coffee. He declined and noticed her hands as she poured one for herself. Warm, dry, and looking like leather, he was sure they had seen their fair share of work around the ranch.

He noticed even though her friendly and open manner made him feel comfortable, there was also a sadness about her, and he wanted to hug her. To bring out the happiness in her eyes. Their large pools of brown brightness reminded him of a newborn calf’s. He scanned her figure and glanced down at the wooden floor, embarrassed about where his thoughts drifted.

Colt settled into ranch duties, finding one day the same as the next. Lora Leigh worked day by day alongside all the hands, chipping in where needed. Every night, she’d wait until dusk had slipped well into darkness before heading to the main house for the night.

Being only eighteen and more naïve than the other guys in the bunkhouse, Colt cared little for their lewd comments about their boss. He was glad she wasn’t around to hear the smutty remarks. One evening, he left the randy bulls to their rude jokes and escaped the bunkhouse seeking seclusion elsewhere.

Colt trekked down the rough trail between two wheat fields at the back end of the quarter until he came to the top of a small meadow nestled against a slow-moving creek. Lora Leigh had shown it to him on a hot, muggy afternoon the second week after he arrived at the ranch. She suggested they cool off after finishing the fencing.

They splashed around the creek like a couple of silly kids. That was the first time he’d heard her laugh, more of a cute, girlish giggle. When she almost slipped, he grabbed her arm and held it perhaps a second too long because she sobered and said she had to get going, leaving him standing there. Since then, it was business as usual, and the weeks had slipped by.

Colt stood at the edge of the wheat field, eyeing the full, bountiful harvest. He would soon finish his job and have to go home.

“It’s up pretty good. I’ll have a great crop this year,” said a soft voice behind him.

He turned and saw Lora Leigh for the first time as the seductive woman she hid so well. Smiling, she held a cup of coffee. The tight-fitting red dress he was sure she hadn’t worn in quite a while highlighted her slim waist and firm breasts.

“Come.” She left her cup on the fence post. Colt followed her down to the bank of the creek. He noticed she had cast aside her worn Ropers for a pair of beaded moccasins. His gaze slid up her legs, where her hips swayed with an invitation. Colt stumbled over a root, but recovered before falling.

The creek beckoned with the sound of water trickling over the rocks. He slowed his pace, hesitant, until Lora Leigh motioned him toward a grassy knoll. She reached for his hand and pulled him toward her. He swallowed, found his mouth too dry, and choked. She chuckled, which eased the tension in his chest.

Colt grinned and fumbled to remove his jean jacket so she could sit on it instead of the damp grass. Settled shoulder to shoulder, she laid her palm high on his thigh.

He shifted a little and cleared his throat. “I... I’ve never.”

Lora Leigh placed a finger on his lips. “Shhh, it’s alright.”

He felt a tug on his pants zipper and leaned back. Her fingers of leather turned to velvet, and he shuddered. His eyes widened when Lora Leigh knelt beside him, pulling her dress up and over her head, revealing her full nakedness.

The clouds separated, allowing the half moonlight to cast its glow upon her alabaster skin. She looked like a marble statue, frozen in time until she moved over him, breaking the spell. Her eyes glowed with a burning that lit him on fire. He sensed her need, and something awakened inside himself, too.

Together they worked to open the buttons of his shirt, and soon it, and his jeans joined her dress in a pile beside them. For someone who ‘had never ...’ Colt found his way around her soft curves with little effort. He laid her below him so he could watch her face under the moon’s natural glow. She never looked away, and together, they moved with a need to feel the thunder, sharing both delight and their hunger deep within.

Warm in each other’s embrace, they stayed together until soft pink sunlight dusted the white clouds on the eastern horizon. Lora Leigh yanked Colt off the ground, and they dashed into the creek, splashing each other while their laughter flowed. This time, when he caught her, she held him hard, unwilling to give up the moment. They lay together once more, and then Lora Leigh left him at the bank, eager to reach the main house before the rest of the ranch stirred.

Colt stayed a while longer, watching the water flowing over the rocks in the same direction, but taking a unique path each time. He committed the night and Lora Leigh to memory, cherishing the gift she’d shared so freely.

Later that summer, with the crops in and most of the ranch hands gone, Colt stood struggling with his thoughts while the crystal-clear water made its way over the slimy green rocks of the creek bed. Maybe the night he’d spent with Lora Leigh had only been a dream. The next day, her business-as-usual style irked him, especially when it remained from one hour to the next, one day to the next, and now, two weeks later, nothing had changed. Colt had to leave today. He felt slighted. Used even.

A twig snapped behind him. He ignored it, but when a warm palm pressed between his shoulder blades, he turned.

Lora Leigh dropped her hand, and all signs of the boss lady were gone. In her place stood a woman with an air of humility, her brown eyes intense.

“I wanted to explain before you go.” She rested her forehead against his chest.

Colt’s arms came up automatically, encircling her in a protective gesture.

“You were the first... after my husband died. There is something special about you, Colten Driever. I think we were both looking for the same thing?” She shrugged out of his reach, piercing him with her question. Her loneliness was apparent, shining within her expressive eyes.

He swallowed his answer and crushed her with a long hug. “I could stay,” Colt suggested against her silky strands of hair.

“No. I can’t let you.” She stepped back, shaking her head. “I can make it on my own.” Standing on her toes, Lora Leigh warmed his lips with a lingering kiss. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, she left the clearing without looking back.

Colt turned around, picked up a flat pebble, and whipped it down the creek. It skipped twice before sinking to the bottom, where it lay still amongst the other stones.

~~

Through the window of the four-by-four, night was in full bloom with the stars sparkling above. Light from the half-moon shone over the wheat field. Colt expected to see Lora Leigh standing there, beckoning, but he knew it would be a dream.

He turned the key and shifted the truck into reverse. Entering the main road, he headed home. To his family. He wanted to kiss the boys’ bald heads. Then, he’d join his wife in bed, where they’d share passion. Even though Colt would call out Jennie’s name, in his mind, it would be Lora Leigh’s face he’d see again.

A lonely widow, soft in the moonlight, never once shifting her eyes away from his, moaning that infectious woman's melody, making him even more eager to be back in the wheat fields.

Back to that different place.

That different time.

That summer.

~The End~

Do you ever wonder if an extension of a moment could have changed the trajectory in your life?