An hour later I was toting a lonesome gold rooster around in my arms watching the shed slowly becoming a palace for Roberto and his girls. Hoyt was helping Mr. Yates with making a small run for the birds, driving posts, which I was sure was not on his rehab list of things to be doing but there he was doing it. Men. They could be so stubborn.
By noon the coop was ready for more chickens. A small nestbox hung on the wall of the corner of the shed, a door and wall made from chicken wire would keep the chooks in their coop and not pooping on everything else, and a small door had been cut out of the old wood siding that I could open and close to let the chickens into their pen. The pen was done as well. Roberto was in his new corner having lunch.
“Mr. Yates, you are the best handyman ever! As soon as I get eggs I will gift you a dozen on top of your pay for running out here to get Roberto settled,” I told Mr. Yates while he was cleaning up his tools.
Hoyt was lingering about, his lips flat, his brow furrowed.
“Sure, thanks. Your friend is handy,” Mr. Yates stated.
“His friend is his boyfriend,” Hoyt was quick to bark. My eyes rounded.
“Oh, okay, figured that was the case but didn’t want to presume. Here’s my bill. I took off twenty bucks for his help,” Mr. Yates explained then handed the invoice over.
“That’s very kind of you,” I said. Mr. Yates hiked up his pants—thank goodness—his butt crack had been hanging out all morning and was surely windburned by now. Then he rubbed at his nose with a thick finger. Hoyt slid an arm around my shoulder. Mr. Yates gave us a confused look. Perhaps he had never seen a gay couple before. We saw him off with a wave then I turned to gaze up at Hoyt. “Boyfriend?”
“Hmm, yeah, he was looking at your ass. I didn’t like that.”
“Oh posh, he’s straight. The man has several ex-wives. He was probably just trying to figure out where he could find paisley sleep pants. But I don’t mind using the B-word as long as you don’t.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
We kissed for a few lovely moments. “Mmm, I like kissing you and would love to keep doing so but we have hens to pick up and pasta with your family! Let’s go!”
I ran to the house, his hand in mine, tugging him along. He slowed me down a great deal when I was trying to change, but after a yummy hand job that left me speechless, we finally made it out the door with the live trap I’d used to catch Ruggerio in the back of his pickup. The day was bluebird-pretty. The sun warm, the truck bouncy, and the ride out to the countryside west of town filled with old country songs that Hoyt sang along to. He was slightly offkey but I didn’t mind. Nor did I mind the flurry of feathers when we got the girls from an old woman with about fifty chickens, all with peeps running around her yard.
I realized two valuable things on that trip.
One was that Hoyt had my heart in his rough hands.
Two was that wearing a suit to wrangle chickens was foolish. Lessons learned.
Still it was worth some dander on my tie and some poo on my jacket. The girls rode in the back of the truck in a dog crate borrowed from someone named Gunner at Snow Creek Ranch, under a tarp to keep the wind from ruffling their feathers too badly.
“You look happy,” Hoyt commented as we pulled into my drive.
“I am! I am quite happy.” So happy I was close to bouncing. Then I spied Ruggerio in the front window. I never cats knew could scowl so well. “Poor Ruggerio. I wonder if he would walk on a leash and harness? He looks lonely.”
“You could get him another cat to keep him company if you don’t want him to be an outdoor cat,” Hoyt suggested as the old truck dropped into Park with a lurch. “Sorry. Transmission slips once in a while.”
“That sounds uncomfortable.”
“For the truck is it.” He gave me a silly smile so I gave him a kiss. “You ready to tote these ladies to their new home?”
“Yes, very much so.”
And so the introductions were made. Bob was thrilled. He ran over to the girls to introduce himself. Two of the hens were mildly impressed with him but more interested in the scratch grain in a dish. The third, Sylvia, wanted nothing to do with my handsome rooster.
“Give her time,” Hoyt said when I began fretting. “New coop, new surroundings, new rooster giving her the eye. She should come around in a few days. If not then she won’t and he’ll just have to settle for two lovers.”
“I’m happy with one myself,” I cooed, dipping under his arm then rising to my toes for a smooch.
“Mm, me too. You want to go tidy up before we head to the ranch.”
“Goodness yes! I cannot show up for dinner with your brother with feathers in my pocket and poo on my tie.”
“He’ll like you no matter what you come to the table looking like.”
I stole one more smooch then dropped down from my toes. “Not as much as I like you, mind.”
