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“Why you always gotta deserve it?” Big Jimmy counters, and the two of them start arguing.
I take that as my cue to get the hell outta there.
It’s not that I’m looking, but it’s impossible not to notice Sully’s truck still isn’t there. What the fuck is he doing? Not that it matters. After all these years, I don’t know why he’s still playing games with my thoughts like this.
The air smells like fall as I climb into my truck. The roads are dark on the way into Laurel Springs. Hardly any vehicles even pass me for most of the drive on the long country road. The stars light up the sky, billions of dots of light so damn pretty, they steal my breath.
“Look, Porter. Right there. It’s a shooting star,” Sully says.
“Missed it,” I lie, holding back my awe at the light darting through the black night.
“Fuck.” I try to shake that thought. This is definitely a good night for going out. I need it, need to fucking clear my head of my and Sully’s past that’s filling it up again.
Buck’s is fairly busy when I walk in. There’s a guy onstage, playing his guitar and a harmonica attached to it. A few people are sitting at the long bar with beers in front of them, some pepper the tables around the edges, with bar foods and drinks, and others are dancing not too far from the stage.
I head straight to the counter, and as I approach, the bartender looks up, his face familiar.
“Holy shit. Porter Dixon? I heard you were back in town. How ya doin’, man?”
Winston went to high school with us. He’s a year or two younger than me and Sully. I wasn’t friends with him, partly because I wasn’t friends with anyone, but he’s looking at me now like we had been.
“Doin’ good. Yeah, I’m back temporarily. Can I get a beer?”
“Of course.”
I sit down and tell him what I want, and a moment later he’s setting a bottle in front of me. “There room for someone else to play tonight?”
“Sure is. Thad is almost finished. No one signed up to go next, so you’re welcome to it. You’re back at the Sullivan Ranch, right?”
I grit my teeth, feel them grind together at his question. “Yep.”
“That’s nice. Well, it sure is nice to see you. Maybe we can get together sometime.”
“I’m real busy, so I can’t make any promises.”
The light in his green eyes dims. “Okay, well, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”
I nod, and he goes about his job, making drinks for a couple who just arrived. Thad, a man I don’t recognize, is playing a few covers.
I sit back and watch him while I nurse my beer. My fingers itch to play, dance along the guitar case as if that’s the same. A few songs later, Thad bids everyone good night, and Winston heads to the stage to introduce me.
Chapter 13
Bishop
I get on the road for the two-hour drive back to the ranch. Christ, I thought the cattle auction would never end. Bargaining is not a part of the job I love, not like Dad does. But I know what he expects of me, and I was able to outbid other ranches for some steer calves. The bull calves aren’t castrated, and we already have our fair share, plus heading into the winter they need to be fed differently. The grasses the stock normally feeds on will grow dormant in the colder months, so we make a concerted effort to provide them the right supplements. It’s all hands on deck during the harvest, which will be here before we know it, and our wheat supply will need to last us through the worst of winter. These are the things ranchers worry about, but it just goes with the territory.
After the steers are placed in the chute and I pay the fee, I help get them into the holding pen for transport tomorrow. I call my parents to tell them about the sale and the plans for transfer to the ranch midmorning.
As I get closer to Laurel Springs, I have that familiar itch under my skin, thinking about what Porter might be up to tonight with the other men. Since that night with Pixie, I’m seeing him in a new light. He comes across as someone who doesn’t care about others, but that can’t be further from the truth. He shields himself from getting hurt, and unfortunately, I’m someone he thinks has done him wrong. Christ, what a mess.
I was nervous about what might happen between him and Randy after that episode, but it seems the other hands are none the wiser. Or if they are, they won’t bring it up for fear of repercussions from Porter or Randy. Randy has been on his best behavior around me, though I have no doubt he doesn’t have any love toward Porter. He keeps his distance when trying his hand in the paddock, choosing times when Porter isn’t working Storm. And it’s the same when steering the cattle and doing other chores from the board. Maybe it’s better this way. It keeps the peace, so the work gets done. But I’m also afraid it may come to a head, and I have a feeling Wade does too because I notice how he keeps a close eye on them when he thinks no one’s looking.
Finally inside the town limits, I breathe out in relief. I’m exhausted but also feel like I need to take a load off.
When I see the sign for Buck’s, I pull into the parking lot, just wanting to chill for a bit with a cold brew in front of me. The place is full, and I park in one of the last spots available behind the building. Once inside, I’m lucky enough to squeeze onto a barstool just as someone’s leaving.
I lift my hand to get the bartender’s attention, surprised to see it’s someone I know. Winston Jones from high school. Shit, I forgot he works here, and now I want to melt into the seat because catching up with Mr. Talkative is the last thing I want after a long day.
