Page 21 of Brett and Rowdy (Gomillion High Reunion #5)

Chapter Thirteen

“ M an, your baby girl sure can shop,” Brett told him.

They’d stopped at the stockyards at Fort Worth, the dogs at the dog-friendly motel, a couple of cowboys paid to watch the trailer, and Madison was wandering around buying up boots and jeans, weird sparkly shirts and jewelry like there was no tomorrow and they were waiting on her so they could go have steaks at the Cattleman’s or at that barbecue place that he could never remember the name of.

“She absolutely can, and she’s been saving all her money. I reckon she’s about to spend at least a third of it probably.” Rowdy chuckled. “That’s her prerogative. She just graduated from college.”

“I detect no lies.” He loved how Rowdy treated Madison. Half indulgent father and half firm dad, almost like a boss.

It was surprisingly easy to do this ride with the dogs, sitting in the back and listening to the sounds from the front seat. Madison never stopped chattering. It wasn’t irritating, though. It was exciting. She had ideas for the ranch, and Brett had to say he felt as if Rowdy listened to her.

Rowdy didn’t agree to everything, but on the other hand, he didn’t pooh-pooh her.

Ideas were shared, agreed to, challenged, or even improved on.

He couldn’t quite imagine how big this spread had to be, but it was big enough for mustangs and horses and cattle.

For alpacas and chickens and then elk. And deer in the back.

Fishing. Enough so that there were guided tours.

“Hey, where’d you go?”

He blinked over, then grinned at Rowdy’s words. “Sorry, I was woolgathering.”

Rowdy chuckled at him and shook his head. “I know if that girl doesn’t get a move on, I’m going to go have steak without her. I’m craving.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You can ask me anything. I may not answer, but you can ask.”

“How do you deal with the steak? It seems like it’d be really hard.” And Brett was curious to know what life was going to be like—even for a few weeks—living with a blind man.

“In a restaurant setting, yes, it’s very challenging. Sometimes. I get beef tips. Sometimes I get whoever’s with me to cut the steak up, but usually I ask if the chef would mind slicing my steak for me, and I’ve never had anyone say no.”

“Oh.” Well, now, he had never thought of that. “That is actually, uh, kinda cool. And I guess your house is set up just so?”

“You’ll find that, yeah.” Rowdy tilted his head back and forth as he spoke, and Brett wondered if he knew he was doing it.

“Especially my part of the house. For instance, I have a little fridge on my side of the house, and it’s really important that the Dr Peppers go on one ledge, the beer goes on another ledge, the sparkling water things go on another ledge.

So everything needs to go where it goes.

Because otherwise I’ll end up drinking beer at, you know, noon.

The main kitchen is way less drastic, and I usually ask.

There are some things people don’t tend to leave out—knives, for example, on a counter are a disaster waiting to happen.

I do ask that nobody moves furniture without giving me plenty of notice and the chance to function around it.

That kind of thing. But really? I think , anyway, that I’m doing fine.

It could be that my people are all just so good at making me believe I’m okay.

” Rowdy seemed to look at him. “Are you worried?”

“No, I feel all right but?—”

“Pardon me.” An older man in Western wear came up gave him a nod, then gave Rowdy a smile. “Are you Rowdy Duran? The bronc rider?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I thought so. I was there the day of your last ride. We were all praying hard for you that day.”

“Thank you.” Rowdy smiled, kind of in the man’s direction, and the expression seemed to be… honest. “That’s awful kind of you. I needed them.”

“My name’s Charles Houma. I’m a big fan of the roughstock guys. Well, I just wanted to say it was always good to see you ride, and I’m glad you’re all right and doing well.”

“I am, thank you.”

Charles glanced at him. “Are you a roughstock rider, too?”

“Me?” Brett blinked at him. “God, no. I’m just?—”

“He’s a metal artist,” Rowdy broke in. “He’s got pieces all over, amazing stuff.”

Charles blinked, then he smiled. “Metal art? Really?”

“Yes, sir,” Rowdy said. “It’s the most amazing stuff I’ve ever felt. He does furniture, he does big installations, he does all sorts of stuff.”

“No shit? Well, I got me a store here. I deal in high-end furnishings, and I’m always looking for a new artist. You’ve got pictures or something like a portfolio online.”

“Well, I mean, yeah, but?—”

“You got a card, Brett, a business card?”

He hoped so. He hadn’t expected to do any work or sales out here. He grabbed his wallet and dug through it, finding one. “Yeah, here please. My website’s on there, and it’s up-to-date. And if you find things that you like or would like to talk, just give me a call.”

“Oh, excellent.” The guy smiled and took the card and handed him one of his own. “Well, this has been my lucky day. Got to meet one of my heroes and meet a new artist. I just couldn’t ask for anything better.”

The guy wandered off, and Brett blinked. “Did you just get me commissions?”

“Possibly. That’s what you do for a living, right?”

“Yeah, it is. I just. Thank you, man.”

“Of course.”

Just, of course. Brett shook his head, because he knew his lover couldn’t see it.

He had a feeling this was what Rowdy did for people.

He’d seen it with Ashley now, both back in the day and with taking out that damn teacher and just accepting he might get arrested.

He’d done it with Madison. Of course, they would take her back to New Mexico.

Of course, they would get her new boots.

Of course, he would find Brett a possible gallery situation.

“You okay, darlin’?” Rowdy asked.

“I am. Just admiring you. Should we head for the restaurant and have Madison meet us there?” The shops area of the Stockyards seemed safe enough.

“That’s a grand idea. They have the best bread. We can carb load a little.”

“Good deal.” He did love some bread and butter, and they’d had hotel breakfast this morning, which had been a wee bit sad, so he was starving himself.

And it would be a while before they got supper.

“Well, let me take your arm. Barney is good, but you’re better at figuring out what crowds of humans might do, and you can verbalize it to me.”

“You know it.” He’d learned that what a seeing eye dog actually did was help the person they were helping make the best choices they could. People thought these dogs were like, superdogs. And they were. But all they could do was cue the handler into an obstacle, not tell them how to work around it.

Brett found the whole process eye-opening and fascinating. Like in a crowd like this, Barney might be just as likely to lead Rowdy into a weird alley or off onto the side of the street if the sidewalk was too crowded.

And considering that they had cattle drives in the street here a few times a day, that could be downright dangerous.

They walked down toward the Cattleman’s, which he learned had been around since the late 1940s.

How cool was that? There were all these famous bulls on the walls, all sorts of cowboy stuff, and he thought it was a hoot.

He’d been to his share of East Coast rodeos growing up with his gramps, but this was hardcore cowboy culture.

“Two for lunch, gents?” the host said.

“Three.” Rowdy chuckled. “My baby girl is shopping for boots.”

“Y’all are brave men. Come on. Just tell her to let me know y’all are already seated.”

“Thanks.” Brett let Rowdy take his arm but sort of decided how to navigate a little too. They had to wend between tables, so Barney was working it hard.

“Here we go.” They got seated. “Would you like a braille menu?”

“No, sir. I know what I want,” Rowdy said.

“Then what can I get you to drink?” The host handed a menu to Brett.

“Water to start. It’s warm out there.”

“Same for me,” Brett murmured.

“I’ll have your server right over.” He got a wink, and he had to chuckle.

“All good?”

“Yeah. He’s just got our number. I think he was flirting a little.” No doubt the kid was used to all sorts of tourists.

“Well, good on him. As long as you weren’t looking.”

“I was not.” On that, he was sure. “I got all I need.”

Rowdy took off his hat, lying it brim up on the table, and his cheeks were very pink. And not from sun.

“I like that.”

“Mmm. So, what are you going to have?” He glanced at the menu, not sure if he should tease more or let it go. He was still learning adult Rowdy.

“The New York strip.” Rowdy smacked his lips. “With a baked potato and salad with ranch. They have the best ranch.”

Well, that was definite. “I was thinking the steak and shrimp.”

“Oh, you should. Gulf shrimp.”

“Sounds good.”

“Daddy! There you are.” Madison breezed right up to the table and flopped down, three shopping bags in each hand. “I see how you are. Not wanting to help me carry.”

“I’m old and blind, baby girl,” Rowdy said, looking pitiful.

“Ha! Brett, you’re strong. You can carry them to the truck after.”

“You bet, kiddo.”

She grabbed his menu. “I totally want onion rings. You getting the strip, Daddy?”

“I am. You gonna get steak or a burger?”

“Oh, good question.” She peered at the menu. “The prime cheeseburger sounds amazing. With a fried egg.”

“Oh, to have young arteries.”

“Daddy, you’re not all that old.” She rolled her eyes. “What about you, Brett?”

“I’m the same age as your dad.”

She rolled her painted eyes, so dramatic. “No. What are you going to eat?”

“I hadn’t even looked yet. I’m thinking about having steak and shrimp, though.”