Page 36 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight

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he heart of winter blew in as harsh and violent as Grady imagined it would.

They were stocked and cozy in the old farmhouse—as rough as she looked, she still provided good insulation, a great, roaring fire, and dry warmth.

Cole came down the staircase on the first day of real rain, dressed for riding in his usual pants and shirt and just a sweater.

“You gonna put a jacket on?” Grady asked as he laced his boots, Cole stepping around him at the base of the stairs.

Cole shrugged and grabbed his boots. He sat next to Grady and pulled them on.

“Don’t wanna sound like your mama.” Grady stood.

“Then don’t.”

“But you need a jacket.”

Cole was focused on his boots. Grady walked back down the hall and opened the basement door.

He went down the stairs and made his way to the far back corner where his daddy’s clothes were piled up and waiting for him to sort them.

The old man’s jacket hung from the hook under the slit of a window.

The rain pelted the glass sideways, and what there was of the sunlight cast a tiny light into the room.

It was an old full-length oilskin riding coat, battered from years of use and large in size and length, but Grady reckoned it’d fit Cole just fine.

He saw an old scarf and some gloves, all the old winter gear just sitting there like it’s been waiting for Cole to arrive.

Grady scooped it all up and went back up the stairs.

He moved down the hall, the floorboards creaking even under the sound of the wind and rain.

Cole was standing there, looking stubborn.

Grady shoved the clothes at him. “Here.”

Cole took it all, looked at it and then up at Grady.

“I ain’t—”

“Put it on. Horses are waitin’.”

Cole snorted and said the horses would probably be happy to stay in the barn, thank you very much, but he put on the jacket and admired it in the hallway mirror as he buttoned up and fixed the collar.

He wrapped the scarf around his neck, tucking his hair under it, and pulled on the gloves.

Cole wasn’t as tall and broad as Grady’s daddy, but the whole get-up fit him nice anyways, fit him like in a few years he’d fill out and grow into it.

Grady went out, and the weather hit him like a punch in the face.

He felt Cole come up beside him, Lady shoring up his other side.

He glanced back and saw Dog sitting on the other side of the door, looking up at him as if to say, Good luck .

Grady shook his head, turned his collar up, pulled the brim of his hat down, and headed for the barn.

As they saddled up, Chloe smacked her front hoof on the ground and shook her head erratically, her white mane swishing from the movement and the wind whistling through the cavernous space between the stalls.

Grady remembered she had never been out in weather like this, and given he’d bought her for the missus for social riding and not working, he had to wonder how she’d cope.

“You excited, huh?” Cole said and tightened the girth.

“You reckon?” Grady asked and swung himself up onto Red’s back.

“Oh yeah,” Cole said and took his seat. Chloe tap-tap-tapped all four legs in place, and Cole pulled her rein to turn her. “She’s gonna love this.”

And, well, Grady took him at his word.

Sure enough, Chloe belted out into the rain like she’d been waiting her whole life for the opportunity.

Grady and Red came up behind them, Lady on their heels, and they rode into the rain up the driveway to the rear of the front pasture.

Cole made a sharp turn at the tree line and slowed to a canter once they had cover.

Grady surveyed the fences as they rode and noted a few weak spots that would need rechecking once the storms hit.

He and Cole had already made plans to check the cattle with the truck later, and Grady had a bad feeling about some of those fences; he should’ve done the reinforcing in the lull after shearing.

Cole disagreed and said he couldn’t have known it was going to blow in this bad, couldn’t have even known they were going to get a proper winter after last year.

And, well, Cole wasn’t wrong, but Grady still reckoned he should’ve known.

Cole said Grady wasn’t God no matter how much he might wish he was, and that was that.

Cole crested the little hill before Grady and pulled Chloe to a halt under the trees. Grady came up beside him, and Red settled; Grady saw immediately what Cole was looking at. The sheep, huddled in a few flocks under the trees out of the rain, their newborn lambs beside them.

Grady spat and felt the rain patter on his jacket through the trees.

The lambs, some of them still with the black of an umbilical cord attached to their bellies, nestled close to their mamas.

Winter was coming late and spring was barely coming at all with the way summer burned over it, and Grady’s old calculations for breeding season needed to be thrown out; he’d been worrying on it, but hadn’t mentioned as much to Cole.

Cole seemed to know it without Grady having to tell him, his frown somehow expectant.

Cole blew out a breath. Grady nodded an acknowledgment and spat again. He looked up at the dark clouds above them, the heavier ones on the horizon.

“I reckon we’re gonna have a long night,” Cole said.

“Yep.”

“I reckon we better check the cattle earlier.”

“I reckon you might be right.”

Grady turned Red and rode for home. They unsaddled the horses and fed them in their stalls.

They went out and got in the truck, and Grady drove while Cole played with the radio station.

He found some of that dance shit JP liked and smiled over at Grady.

Grady shook his head and shot him a gruff smile.

The cows lifted their heads at their approach, already clustered under their trees, and Grady thanked a God he wasn’t sure he believed in that they were holding out for calving. Cole blew out a relieved breath this time, then pointed out all the spots along the fence that’d need checking tomorrow.

As they drove back to the house, the last of the light was disappearing, and the storm was hitting.

“Might as well go on out now,” Cole said.

“Might as well.” Grady turned and headed for the pasture.

The wind was blowing fierce, the rain pelting sideways, and Cole pointed and sure enough, a lamb was on its own.

Grady stopped and Cole jumped out. He grabbed him and bundled him up.

Once he got in the back of the truck, he smacked the roof, and Grady drove on.

Two more. Three. Four. They were up to seven when they came across one wedged between two trees.

Grady got out as Cole tried to coax the little fella forward.

The rain lashed them, and scared black eyes blinked against the downpour while he bleated for his mama.

Grady came up behind him and lifted gently as he could while Cole took the front.

Wriggling free, he fell forward into Cole’s arms. Cole shrugged his jacket off, bundled him up, and took him to the truck.

Grady took his own jacket off and threw it over Cole’s shoulders as he climbed into the back of the truck, ignoring Cole’s protests.

They were drenched through and had nine lambs in the truck by the time they’d surveyed the whole pasture.

Grady pulled up beside the barn and heard Cole banging the roof over the sound of the pelting rain. He cracked his door and Cole shouted over the rain, “They need the fire!”

Grady normally put them in the barn for the night, but all right. He nodded.

The living room was home to nine lambs, and a saturated Cole brought each one a bottle not an hour later, the lambs going down on their front elbows and wagging their little tails as Cole fed them.

“Reckon we got ’em all?” Cole asked.

“I reckon.”

“I saw the flock huddled under the far trees,” Cole said, his smile beaming at the lamb pushing into his hand and taking the bottle. “Reckon they got some good shelter.”

“I reckon.”

Grady picked his way through the lambs and threw the towel he had in his hands over Cole’s shirt where it was soaked through from his hair.

“You should go on up and shower,” Grady said. He pressed the towel around Cole and felt the water seep through it. Cole shivered.

“I just got one more.”

“I’ll do it.”

Cole looked up at him as the lamb he was currently feeding kept butting the empty bottle for more milk.

“You know how?”

Grady huffed at him.

“All right, all right.” Cole straightened, handed him the bottle, and went to leave the room.

Grady crouched in front of the last lamb, held the bottle up and pressed it to his mouth. The lamb got the message, went to his elbows and started drinking.

“Good,” Cole said from behind him.

Grady looked over his shoulder and raised both eyebrows. “You reckon I ain’t done this before?”

Cole shrugged. “Ain’t no tellin’ with you guys.”

Grady shook his head and turned back to the lamb. He was the smallest one, the one they’d yanked from between the tree.

“Go on and shower, I’ve gotta make these beds up since they beddin’ in here now.”

“Well, they can’t be outside.”

“They’re normally outside,” Grady muttered. He heard Cole mumble something in response but chose not to hear it.

Cole came back in not ten minutes later like he’d rushed through showering to check that Grady had done it all properly. He nodded his approval when he saw all the lambs in little makeshift blanket beds around the fire, the grill put up to protect them from getting too close.

Grady was sitting back against the couch, thinking he needed a warm drink and something to eat, and he was going to need to check the sheep and the fences again at first light.

Cole told him to stay there, and Grady heard him moving about in the kitchen. He came back in and handed Grady a plate of heated-up mashed potatoes and stew and a mug of coffee. Cole sat in the armchair with his own food and drink and Grady thanked him.

“Old Man Willy was right,” Grady said once he’d finished eating.

He heard Cole’s cutlery clatter, and he looked up at him.

“What?” Cole asked.

“Willy reckoned I shoulda got the shearing done earlier.”

Cole nodded curtly. He looked down at his plate. It wasn’t like him not to have something to say on Grady’s opinion on how things were done. His jaw was clenched, and he’d gone a paler shade of white. Grady tried to catch his eye.

“You all right?”

Cole jerked his head.

He stood in a burst of movement and left the room with his unfinished plate.

Grady got up and went after him. It also wasn’t like Cole to not clear the plates, and it wasn’t like Grady gave a flying fuck about good housekeeping, but he’d become attuned to Cole’s moods and he hated it when something was bothering him.

He didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, he just… didn’t want it to be happening.

Cole was at the sink, rinsing his plate with the kind of complete attention that meant he was actually focused on Grady coming in.

Grady put his plate on the sink.

“Coffee?”

Cole shook his head. “I’m gonna turn in.”

Grady couldn’t see his face; it was covered by that curtain of hair. Grady couldn’t have said what made him do it, but he reached over and brushed the strands back from Cole’s face, held the fall of his damp hair against his neck.

“Might need a hair tie,” he said.

Cole nodded quickly. His eyes were down, long lashes blinking fast.

“I reckon I got one upstairs.” Grady tucked the hair on the other side of Cole’s shirt.

Cole glanced up, eyes shining. He averted his face to hide it, nodded again.

Grady stepped back and went over to the kettle. He made himself a coffee and made one for Cole anyways. He knew Cole was going to sleep downstairs on the couch, and he reckoned he’d want another hot drink and was just saying no because that’s what he did when he got like this.

Grady turned to go upstairs and leave him to it but stopped at the door. He didn’t look back but said what he reckoned he ought to have said a while ago.

“I ain’t no expert on what gets a man spooked.”

He could actually hear Cole go still behind him.

“But I reckon if you ever wanna talk on it, well then”—Grady wrapped the doorframe with his knuckles—“I reckon I’m all right at listenin’.”

He went out, and Cole didn’t reply, but Grady knew he took his meaning well enough.