“More than a little.”
“Jesse mentioned you. You’re in the pink trailer on the side of the hay barn.”
“That’s me.” I offered him my right hand to shake. His grip was strong, fingers rough. A working hand. “I’m looking for some light work, something a man with only one arm can do, so if you got anything I’m willing to do it. Sitting in that trailer for days on end will make me go mad.”
“I understand that well. Call me Gunner. Gunner Rockhill. I’m the head horse wrangler. Be happy to have you curry the horses, fill water buckets, grain them, shit like that. I’m also behind on paperwork so if you’re good with figures feel free to pull the invoices out of the drawer in the old desk in the barn and make sense of them.”
“I’m fair shakes with numbers,” I replied. That, it seemed, was the end of the interview. Gunnar walked with me into the largest barn and let me do my thing.
I puttered aroundin the horse barn for a few hours before taking my empty plate back to the bunkhouse. Dinner was ready when I arrived, a hearty venison stew with crusty bread, soft butter, and a side salad. Dessert was a cobbler with apples and a crunch topping served with a dollop of whipped cream. Alone at the far table by the window I inhaled the fare, pausing only to sip from a bottle of water while checking out the other cowpokes. A few inclined their heads in greeting so I did the same. Good-looking men, flushed from being out in the cold April winds. Most of them were big guys who wore their masculinity well. A guy who worked this life had to be beefy. Pitching hay bales and wrestling calves for tagging required muscle. And while I appreciated muscle I found myself comparing the cowboys to the bookseller in Chance. Aubrey. Aubrey Lancombe. Such a bright personality with big brown eyes that lit up like a lantern when he talked about books. I liked his lithe frame. I’d always been a toppy bastard who preferred smaller, thinner men in his bed. Aubrey was the perfect build, and his chatty nature made me feel less down.
Thinking of him made the melancholy seem a little less heavy. Maybe I would try that Ginsberg book tonight after I took a shower. In the bunkhouse. It was better if I kept my distance from my family. For Jesse because I’d be pulling out as soon as I was cleared to ride and for me because if I found myself face-to-face with Abel it would end in violence. And this time I would not be cowering on the ground or walking off to save my littlebrother from having to pick a side. This time if he came after me I would clean his fucking clock. The days of Hoyt Knox taking a licking from his pa were done and over. Next time would be the last time and that promise could be taken to the bank.
Chapter 5
Aubrey
“Ireally appreciate you coming out on such short notice,” I said to the handyman Camille had called in from the next town over. He grunted as he eyed the padlock on the shed door. His nose was red from the chill. It was a very large nose. Enormous. My sight kept drifting back to it just like Austin Powers when he met The Mole. “I didn’t want to rush you but I think there’s a cat and a rooster living in there. They’re probably hungry and cold.”
He turned his unhappy round face to me. “Look, kid, I don’t care if Godzilla is living in there. It’s cold and Camille insisted I come out right fucking now. So here I am. Damned ex-wives are going to be the death of me yet.”
“Oh, so you’re Mr. Yates. That’s nice. Camille sold me this place and the shop in town. I’m opening a bookstore today. A large opening.” I pulled my thick cardigan tighter around me as a robin called out somewhere close by. “The shop is already open but it was a soft opening just because I couldn’t wait to have people come in and browse. I still want to set up a reading corner somewhere then start having poetry readings and workshops, maybe a writer group too. Oh, and perhaps a game night!Wouldn’t it be fun to have a Dungeons & Dragons night for the local TTRPG folks?!”
He shook his head as he pulled out a large pair of bolt cutters. With a grunt he cut through the shackle. The lock fell to the ground in two cold pieces.
“There you go.”
“Thank you!” I nudged my glasses up my nose.
“I’ll bill Camille.” With that he picked up his bag then sauntered back to his van and left. Not even a thank you for your business or a see you later. Honestly, some people were not morning people at all. I picked up the lock bits, shoved them into my sweater pocket, and then eased the creaky door open. Spring sun, cold but bright, shone into the shed.
“Oh wow,” I whispered at the mess.
There wasn’t much in here but everything a chicken could sit on was covered with chicken poo. Also, I suspected the orange cat had been using a corner or two as a litter box as the shed reeked of cat pee. “Oh my.”
I pulled my sweater over my nose as I stepped further in. A small workbench littered with mouse droppings, a rototiller, and a box filled with shavings and wooden eggs—that was the extent of the treasures. The rooster, who I had named Roberto, and the cat, who I had decided to call Ruggerio, were nowhere to be seen. I’d heard Roberto earlier but couldn’t place where he’d been crowing from. If he was going to live here he would need a nice coop. Or a shed. The cat, Ruggerio, would need a trip to the vet and judging by the size of his nuggets, an operation to remove said nuggets. But I had to trap them first. The cat would be easy. The rooster on the other hand might prove a bit more difficult. How did one catch a chicken? Something brushed against my leg making me jump. I had a real fear of rats, all rodents really, but especially rats.
“Ack!” I squeaked, jerking my leg up as I looked down to see Ruggerio. Purring. Rather loudly. The rooster, Roberto, came strutting in proud as punch. “Oh, hello, gentlemen. Roberto, the Gentleman Rooster. That sounds like a lovely moniker. And Ruggerio, the Paladin knight. What a chivalrous pair. I have some food in the house. One minute!”
I dashed off. The cat and the chicken followed, Roberto’s fancy gold tail feathers flowing in the wind as he and his friend raced me to the back door.
“You win.” I laughed as I opened the door. “Would you like to come inside? It’s warmer in here.” I held the door open but neither seemed inclined to enter. “Okay, that’s understandable. We’ll work on it. Hold on.” I raced inside, plucked the dry toast I’d not eaten with my over-easy egg from the counter, and went to the back porch. The cat and the chicken were waiting patiently. Someone, obviously the previous owner, had fed these two because as soon as Roberto saw the bread he came over to me. I squatted down to feed him bits of toast. He plucked it from my hand with great care then dropped it on the ground as he made a deep tut-tut-tut sound. “You should eat that.”
He finally gave in and began to eat the bits that he took. When the toast was gone I hurried back inside, found the bags of chicken feed and dry cat food, and toted them, with the water dish I’d bought, to the shed. Both of my new friends followed, Ruggerio meowing loudly while Roberto clucked merrily. They dove into the food when I filled the dishes I found lying around. Kneeling on an old flap of a cardboard box, I watched them eating with a smile. I made a mental note to find a vet and set up a visit for them both. Did veterinarians doctor chickens? I had no clue but I would find out. My watch beeped as they were eating.
“Ah, time to get to work. You two behave today. I’ll be home around five-thirty.” I gave Ruggerio a pat on his head then Iglanced at the rooster preening his wing. I touched his back, the gold feathers smooth under my fingertips. What a gentleman he was! “Guard the house you two. And don’t get into any trouble.”
When I left for the shop my mile-long list was now two miles long but I’d not change a thing. I had two new friends to share my life with. So much for the worry of being alone. What more did a man need than a shop filled with books and a duo of polished gents? A flash of that danged cowboy in the black hat appeared in my mind’s eye as I slid behind the wheel of my blue PT Cruiser. Gosh yes he was handsome. And big, strong, burly. Just the kind of man I liked to plop myself down on their laps for a nice cuddle and pet. He’d had big hands. I bet he could pet with the best of?—
Stop. Stop right now. No cocky cowboys. No smug security officers. No puffed up physical therapist. Nope, no, never more. No overweening men no matter how big and buff they are. We’re living a hermit’s life out here in the woods. Think Radagast the Brown fromThe Hobbit. Just you and the critters.
Yes, but even Radagast had visitors. Gandalf the Gray must have?—
Stop! We are not going down that rabbit hole. Wipe that cowboy from your mind.
“Right. Right, wiping that cowboy from my mind.” There he went. Goodbye Mr. Sexy Britches. A hermit’s life from here on out. Yep. Call me Friar Aubrey.
Okay,I wassogoing to be kicked out of the monastery.
