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“Don’t swing that way, asshole.” Bulldog dismounts and heads for the bull too.
“Something wrong with someone who does?” I cock a brow, warning in my voice.
“I don’t give a shit where anyone sticks their dick. Just sayin’ mine only goes in ladies, and if it ever went somewhere else, it wouldn’t be with an old man like Wade.” He turns to Wade and winks. “You’re not my type, sweetheart.”
“I’ll show you old man.” Wade tackles him, the two of them wrestling around like a couple of idiots. Wade holds his own with the younger man, and I watch them and their easy friendship, wondering how in the hell shit like that is so easy for some people, and why it ain’t for me.
“We doing our fuckin’ jobs or playing around all day?” Big Jimmy asks. Bulldog shoves to his feet, holding his hand out for Wade and pulling him up too.
“I’m gonna help you with the fence and finish the ride with you.” Wade plucks his hat from the ground and shoves it back on his head again.
“Don’t need help. I can do it by myself.”
“Didn’t ask if you needed help,” he replies, leaving no room for argument.
Big Jimmy and Bulldog head back to the ranch with the injured bull, while Wade and I get to work on the fence.
“You and the boss seem to be gettin’ along better,” he says.
“You gossip more than anyone I know.” I pull out new wire and set to getting the fence patched up.
“Just makin’ conversation, cowboy. That’s okay to do, ya know? Make friends. Get along with the boss. The Sullivans are good people.”
My skin prickles with annoyance. “Good for them.” I’m not getting into the past with him. No one believes me anyway. The Dixons are always in the wrong, and the Sullivans are always in the right.
“So are you.”
I stop, turn to look at him…and laugh. Wade rolls his eyes playfully, sun glinting off the gray strands in his beard. “I’m serious, fucker.”
“Don’t need you to tell me shit like that. This isn’t therapy.”
“I used to spend time with your dad sometimes…we’d go out and drink together when I used to drink too much. He wanted more for you in life than what he had. He didn’t want you to be bitter and hate the world like him.”
The ground shifts beneath my feet, like even though I’m bent down, my legs are going to give out.
“Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me about him.”
I know my daddy had a lot of problems. Know he liked beer too much and hated the world. Know he struggled to hold down a job, but I also know he loved me and my momma. Know that he tried like hell, and that trying made his heart give out.
“Okay. I’ll shut my mouth.” Wade holds up his hands in defeat. “Just know you got people in your corner, Porter. You just have to be willing to lean on them.”
I get to work without another word. I don’t need anyone and never have.
Chapter 9
Bishop
Standing outside the paddock, I watch the mustang going buck wild all on his own, after tiring out a groom and another hand. Randy gave it a go, likely trying to impress Pixie, but he doesn’t have a natural ability and nearly ended up in the dirt for a third time. I sent him off to complete a chore in the stables, and though he grumbled under his breath, he did as I asked.
The mustang is a stubborn one, and I hope Dad doesn’t regret bringing him with the new batch of stock horses. He’s hoping to use them in the rodeo for the cutting and roping events, but this one might be better as a bucking bronco.
Dad has always loved the rodeo, attends as a spectator whenever it comes to town. It hails back to his younger days. He was one of the best sheep-riding mutton busters around before moving on to larger animals, and he won’t let us forget it. Soon enough he became too busy running the ranch to pay those events any mind, but the rodeo piqued his interest again in recent years.
“You think we can break him?” I ask Pixie as she hikes herself higher on the wooden slats to get a better look at the horses in the pen.
“I’m not sure. But he sure is funny to watch.”
Pixie also enjoys the rodeo, likely because she’s heard so many stories about her late granddaddy, and even more so after her dad took her to a show last spring. She likes contending in the dressage events, but the rodeo showed her the grittier side of competition. If she ever decided to follow in her grandfather’s footsteps, she’d have the tenacity to fit right in. But for Randy’s sake, and given his recent struggles, I hope not.
