Page 24 of Jorhee

I smiled. He was okay, simply overwhelmed.

“Okay, then how about this one…”

16

JESSE

I’d thought things would be simple after I’d made my choice to apply for a land claim on New Haven. I should have known better. I’d made that mistake time and time again my entire life. Not knowing the other kids at school well enough to feel comfortable approaching them on the playground or at lunch, so that even in elementary school when the entire class had to sit together in the lunchroom, I hung back so I was at the end of the line and sat off on one end, completely ignored by the kid right next to me and the two across from me. I’d thought joining 4H would fix that problem. It both did and didn’t.

Sure, I made friends there, with a couple of kids who lived all the way on the other end of the county and didn’t even go to the same school as me. The kids I wanted to make friends with did Little League or Junior League football or Scouts, or did a mix of those. When I realized this, it was too late to change without disappointing Dad as he was super proud of me showing off my junior rancher skills with the ribbons I’d started winning from my very first County Fair, and I couldn't do both 4H and one of the other activities, as Dad had said I could do one thing, as that’s all the time they had to take me tomeetings. So, I stayed in 4H, and while I loved it, it didn’t help me make more friends at school.

Basking in Grandpa and Dad’s praise had sure felt good though, and when Grandpa passed when I was 14, Dad had shared how he had told him that my ribbons at the fair were only the beginning, and that he was happy knowing the ranch was in Dad’s hands and someday, it would be in mine, the family legacy continuing on. So when it came time to go to college, when Dad suggested a business degree to add to my already considerable ranching know-how, I’d gone along with it. He was right, too. A smart businessman knew not just his trade, but the numbers so he could track profitability and know how to make important decisions on where to cut back and when to expand and all that jazz.

And when I graduated third in my class, Dad’s praise once more over it along with his invitation to come home and work right under the ranch foreman so I could get a feel for where we were at and get the other hands used to taking orders from me, well, that led me right into the trap that had been set by she whose name I will no longer speak and her snake in the grass husband, Ted.

My solution to that had seemed simple too - with the job offers I’d had straight after college, I’d thought finding a job in an office would be a breeze. Turns out, not so much. The three years between meant three more years of new graduates, all with job offers for what I was looking for. I really began to feel like a pariah when I didn’t get so much as a call back for an interview from fast food and retail places either. I probably could have applied as a hand elsewhere in the state, but those fellas all knew Dad one way or another, and it felt like I’d seem as if I was merely being a pouty brat by taking a regular ranch hand job when I could have stayed on and been assistant to the foreman before moving up to take his place when he retired. I’dended up working for a temp agency, cleaning offices with no guarantee that the next temp job they had would pay well or if they’d even have something I could do. So, I’d decided there was another way to earn the money to get my horses - I’d start my own damned ranch by signing up to be a colonist.

Simple, right? Sign up, get tested, don’t get matched as the odds were greatly against it, use the stipend to import my sweethearts and build them a stable, me a house, and get some cattle. Only my luck struck again, and I did get matched, and not to someone else in agriculture, but a prince. Who seems like a wonderful guy and all. He’s certainly been willing to help me get my horses and all that, but the whole royal thing, ugh.

A light tap on my door had my head swiveling to look at it while Buster raised his head.

“Coramelis,there is food.”

I started to tell him to go away and I’d eat later, but my stomach let out a growl loud enough that Buster looked at me in offense. He looked so disgruntled, I couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Yeah, okay,” I told him, getting up to open the door. Johree stood there, concern written all over his gorgeous face.

“The call has ended, and I thought perhaps some food would be good,” he said, his tone cautious as if I were a skittish colt.

I felt myself blush a little at that.

I certainly bolted like one instead of stayin’ to finish tackling things head on like a rational adult.

I summoned a small smile for him. “Food would be great.”

My stomach let out another loud complaint, and Johree’s lips twitched as he lifted an eyebrow.

“It does sound as if you need to feed the beast within you that lets out such fearsome growls,” he agreed, and I chuckled even as my face and neck got hotter.

“Yeah, well, it has been a long time since breakfast.”

“Perhaps if you’d had more than coffee, it would have sustained you better,” he chided gently.

“Mmm. Maybe if we’d had some danishes.”

“Bob can have the replicator make you these danishes.” He turned to go back to the main living area, and I fell into step beside him. “You merely have to ask for the meal you desire, and if it is not in the pattern buffer, it shall be obtained for the next time.”

I had been shown how to use the replicator, but I hadn’t yet tried it, certain that because it was me, something weird would happen.

Like I’d ask for spaghetti with meatballs, and it would start firing them out at me like one of those ball launcher things.

I knew it was silly to be afraid of it, but I couldn’t help myself.

We reached the table, and I looked down. Two bowls of some kind of stew with two small plates of bread that held a faint blue tinge sitting next to them, awaited us.

Johree gestured towards the replicator. “I have chosen Kilt-ha stew and bread made from local grain, so you should choose our beverage. I will try what you wish to have.”

I swallowed, not feeling as if I could refuse his simple request.

Okay, time to cowboy up.