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“Luke likes me weird, so don’t you worry, brother o’ mine. We’re happy as two pigs in slop. Speaking of pigs, did I tell you that Bacon Seed is learning tricks now?” Bacon Seed is her savagely named miniature pig, which was a Christmas gift from Luke, so maybe he does know and appreciate her ‘uniqueness’. That spoiled rotten mini-monster is their pseudo-baby in every way, sleeping in their room and almost always in Shay’s arms with her cooing and singing to the pink squealer. Mama Louise even has to pig-sit when Shay travels with Luke. And apparently, he’s sitting on command, according to the long-winded story with several sidetracks that Shay just completed.
She looks out the window, smiling at the antics of the goats in the penned yard by the house. “Look how cute they are! Maybe we should take a few over to the pens by our house. Ooh, and get a full-sized pig too!” She makes it sound completely reasonable and exciting. It’s absolutely not.
“Shay, for the love of fuck, give your man a break. We got cattle, goats, dogs, cats, a pig, and kids running around now. You don’t need a full-sized pig. Besides, what’re you gonna do when it’s ready to go to market?”
“Shh.” Her hiss is accompanied by her hand slapping over my mouth. “Don’t you say that where the animals can hear you.”
My brow rises, snark in the small movement, and she takes her hand away slowly. “They can’t hear me. We’re in the truck.” Still, she looks out the window like a pissed off cow might knock on her window. They won’t . . . one, because they’re cows, and two, because they’re in the back pasture where we finally got them moved to after some fence repair work that took Mark, James, and me two days to complete.
“Fine.” She pouts, her arms crossing over her chest and her left boot tapping the floorboard. “How is market prep going?”
I give it a fifty-fifty chance of whether we’re adding a pig to our menagerie of animals. Poor Luke, such a sucker for my sister. I only hope she appreciates how lucky she has it while she does.
“We’re making good strides. Mark’s decided on how many he’s gonna sell, which ones he wants to keep, and he’ll probably look for a few more to add to the herd. Prices are looking good now, which means he’ll be selling high but buying high too. He’s got a couple of quality bulls, so the herd should be good for next mating season. Prospects are solid overall.”
Shay nods along with my assessment but ends on a head tilt with her eyes laser-locked on me. “You say ‘he’ like he’s the only one out there working the herd day in and day out.”
I shrug. “They are his—his cattle, his decisions. I’m okay with that.” I don’t tell her that I want our family farm back so much I can taste it and that I still curse Dad every chance I get for causing us to lose it. I’d been able to save us from his stunts for years, but he’d gotten the last laugh when he died and I’d had to sell it to settle his debts. I’m just thankful it was to the Bennetts. If not for them, we’d have likely split up to work ranches and farms wherever we could get hired on. Maybe Bobby would’ve gone on to Nashville, because that’s where he belongs, and Shay was already dating Luke so she would’ve been okay, but Brutal and me would’ve been fucked if the Bennetts hadn’t saved us.
But I don’t tell her that. She doesn’t need my regrets on her shoulders, not when she’s happy. And she is—with Luke, with our new family, with her business, and even with her pig. The miniature one she’s already got, and hopefully not a full-grown sow.
I’m happy too, but there’s a constant gnawing in my gut that something’s wrong. It’s the land, the Tannen farm. I might still live in my childhood home, on the same land I grew up on, but it doesn’t feel the same. Thankful and grateful as I might be for the Bennetts, the sunrises and sunsets over land that I lost are still a daily reminder of my shortcomings.
“They’re yours too, Bro. It’s a good thing to be invested in the herd—it makes you a hard worker, a responsible cowboy, and mostly, a good man.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I scratch at my lip as I try to believe her sweet compliments, and maybe I even do . . . a little. Still, the sound is more one of ‘let it go’ than agreement because even if I’m good, I’m not good enough, obviously.
“Speaking of . . .” Shay pauses, and though I think she intends this to feel like a segue, I can sense the errrk of a change in direction, but Shay always does and says what she wants. We all just try to keep up. “We’ve missed you at dinner here lately. Is it safe to say another one bites the dust?” She doesn’t so much as blink as she scans my face for any small tell, but I can see the excited smile she’s holding back. I force myself to stay still, my hands light on the wheel and eyes on the road.
