Page 11 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

Chapter Six

S even days later, my limits had been reached.

Which was why I was out on Prissy, alone, checking the fencing.

Was it a job that needed to be done today?

Probably not. The new cattle wouldn’t be arriving for some time, but if I didn’t get out of the house and away from my half- brothers, I was going to start saying things that I couldn’t take back.

One of the lessons I have learned at meetings as well as in life was that things said in anger, or when shitfaced, had a tendency to never really die.

Heated words kind of lingered in the heart or house like a ghost, showing up out of nowhere to make your life less than pleasant.

My ex-wife could attest to my rambling mouth when I was hammered.

Just another reason among many—gay sex with a rodeo cowboy was probably the largest nail in that marital coffin—but nasty words hurt.

And while I wasn’t head over heels for my siblings yet, they were now legally co-owners of the ranch.

Also, they were sinking cash into Bastian Acres at an alarming rate.

New beefers? Yep, in a few weeks, courtesy of that moolah from my half-brothers.

Big red and black Herefords were due to be delivered.

Twenty. Nineteen heifers and a proven bull.

Oh, and goats.

“Goats,” I mumbled to Prissy as we rode along the fencing that ran west, then cut over to touch the corner of a swollen creek.

Prissy flicked an ear and stopped atop a knoll to watch a ring-necked pheasant take to wing.

“It’s a bird. They don’t eat horses.” She snorted a few times.

Once she was sure the bird was not coming back to attack her, she began walking again.

“So goats. They said we should diversify. Goats are hot and cool. Less methane in the air. You ever round up goats?”

The horse was not commenting. She didn’t need to.

I knew she had never seen a goat in her life.

I’d not had much interaction with them, to be honest. There was a goat barn on the fairgrounds filled with kids and caprines with them funny eyes.

Ford had been put in charge of the goats when they arrived since it was his idea to bring them in.

Not that he knew the front end of a goat from the back, obviously, but he seemed okay with the idea.

He and Linc were clearing out an old storage barn for the big boar goats we’d located not all that far from here.

Granny had taken Bella under her wing and into her junk room.

The hum of that old Singer could be heard way into the night as dresses and pants and frilly tops were created.

Bella was helping Granny with the household chores.

They got on well and Bella seemed content to help cook and sew and chatter with us when we all returned to the homestead for meals.

Dodge seemed to be the organized one, so he stepped in to create a paper for us to sign, a probationary outline, that said one year from now we would reconvene to discuss whether they wished to stay or leave.

He also was really good at bookkeeping, so I begrudgingly handed him the password to my bookkeeping program.

His exhalation upon opening it was huge.

I tried, I truly did, but I was more a shove the receipts into a folder and forget about them for a year kind of man.

He got things sorted over a few days with a lot of muttering.

I could do it, but I was shit with numbers in rows and he seemed pretty sharp.

Guess you had to be to run a successful dental practice.

His son had a month of school yet, private school if you could imagine, and then he would be coming to the ranch.

Granny, of course, was beside herself with all the hubbub.

I tended to drift off when it got too loud.

Cards at night were a thing now. With dismal internet, streaming movies was touchy so cards seemed to be the game of choice to while away the time before bed.

This morning over breakfast, after Bella had done Granny’s hair, a rather heated discussion broke out about which breakfast sausage was superior.

Seriously, the three of them went back and forth about pork meat while I was trying to eat my damn oatmeal in peace.

When I left, they were still bickering about the amount of sage in one brand. Granny gave me a smile as I exited stage left, eager to be out of the din and on the back of a horse.

Only fifty-one weeks to go. I could do this.

They’d settle in soon, I hoped. Shaking off the buzz of lingering annoyance, we headed to the left, riding along the barbed wire fence line until it hit a small stand of ancient eastern redbuds.

Prissy began to curl her upper lip. I leaned up a bit to see if I could see what she was smelling.

Tucked in among the short trees was a small pop-up tent.

I caught sight of a huge lens glinting in the morning sun and felt a small spark of anticipation, knowing that Hanley was close.

“We know him,” I whispered, patting the horse before giving her a tap on the sides. She went forward but wasn’t keen about it. “Just a smelly dude with a camera.”

“I heard that,” Hanley called, easing out from behind the 35mm set up on a tripod.

He looked good. Whiskery with overgrown hair, but man, did it look fine on him.

I slid from the saddle, letting the reins fall.

Prissy lowered her head to munch on the short green grass.

“I’ll have you know I washed up in that creek back there last night. ”

I ambled closer, refusing to dwell on the mental image of a naked Hanley in a wild creek. My dick twitched.

“Thought you were out here to take pictures of animals, not lonely cowpokes.” I walked up and offered him my hand.

He shook firmly and waved at his little camping area tucked under the redbuds.

The trill of a male bluebird floated over us as his fingers held mine.

I was reluctant to let go, but someone had to make the call.

“I’m here to take pictures of nature’s glory and a man as handsome as you surely qualifies.”

I had to smile. There was something about that soft Yankee accent wrapped around such a blatant come-on that made me feel lighter.

“Not sure I’m all that glorious,” I replied as I gently slid my hand from his. “Damn fine horse, though.”

“That she is. I’d offer you some coffee, but I’m hesitant to build a fire so close to the trees. I do have some juice boxes if you’d like to crack one open and visit for a while?”

“Sure, just for a spell. Prissy could use a rest.” That was a lie. We’d not ridden hard at all. It was a poke-along ride just to clear my head of the family nonsense.

“Then pull up a stump.” We ducked down to enter his little nook.

“I’ve been here a few days. There’s a herd of whitetails that visit the creek every morning at dawn, and today I finally captured them.

Sit.” He motioned to a dark old round chunk of wood, probably left here years ago when someone had been cutting firewood.

I sat, and he lowered himself on a similar knotted castoff.

“Did I scare them off?” I asked, glancing out at the pasturelands.

“No, they’d left. Something spooked them. Last night, I heard a mountain lion calling for a mate.”

“Could be,” I answered as I sat with a grunt.

My knees were just about tucked under my chin.

Hanley chuckled. “Hobbit seats,” I tossed out as he rummaged in his rucksack.

“Hopefully it was a male and he’ll move on.

We’re bringing in some new cattle and goats soon.

I’m not overly worried about the cattle, but if we let the goats graze with the beefers, then that could be problematic. ”

“Would you shoot it?” he asked. I nodded.

“Pity. I fully understand if it preys on your livestock, but they are such gorgeous animals. Perhaps it could be trapped and relocated if it were to become a problem?” He passed me a box of grape juice.

“They’re protected in this state, right?

So if he would become a problem, he could be moved. ”

“Maybe. ?Course then he possibly becomes a problem to some other rancher, so hopefully he was just cruising.”

“Here’s hoping that big cat moves on.”

We tapped boxes. I felt a fool sitting on a damp chunk of wood in a copse of redbuds sipping juice out of a bright purple box.

The little straw did nothing to make me feel more manly.

We drank in a chilly and cumbersome silence.

I’d never really been good at small talk.

Right now, that lack of social skills was painfully obvious.

“So, did you ride out here on cowboy business or to visit with me? Both are acceptable answers and are not mutually exclusive.” His jade eyes twinkled. This man did not have any problem with small talk or flirting.

“I was checking fences.”

“Damn, I’m crestfallen. Here I was hoping that you’d come out to check on me. Gets lonely out here on the range with only the dogies for company.”

Yeah, I knew all about lonely. “There are no dogies on this property right now.”

“Okay then it’s lonely out here with only the deer and the antelope for company. Better?” I bobbed my head. He chuckled. “Stickler for details, I see.”

“Sometimes,” I replied as I pulled my sight from his scraggly brown-blond beard. The hair on his face was a touch darker than the thick locks on his head.

“And a man of few words. I like that. Adds to the mystery.” He gave me a tilted smile that sent a rush of heat to my midsection. “Want to see some of the images I’ve captured so far?”

“Yeah, I would like that.” I just then thought to remove my hat. Granny would have given my ear a tug for not doing so when I had sat down. Not that this little hideaway under the redbuds was a sitting room or anything…