His Fresh Start Cowboy, page 4
“Hugo Turner, sir,” Hugo replied. He shook the man’s gnarled, burn-scarred hand. “I appreciate the place to stay. I promise no late-night parties.”
“Shit, you want to have a party, I better be invited. Threw plenty of ’em back in my day. And if you ever need weed, I got you covered.”
Hugo glanced at Rem, who just grinned. “I’ll keep that in mind, I guess. But I’m here to work.”
“Sure, sure, you youngins. Trailer is hooked up to gas and water, but don’t go crazy using either. But being one man, I can’t see you doing too much of that.”
“No, sir, I won’t. I’m a very basic cook, and I’ve lived with a lot of roommates, so I’m used to quick showers.”
“Good, good.” He looked from Hugo to Rem, then back to Hugo. “You two rascals used to run around and get into trouble when you were teenagers, didn’t you? I don’t recall the name Turner, but I never forget a face.”
“We sure did get around,” Rem replied with a grin. “But Hugo’s family lived out in Daisy. And Turner is his mother’s maiden name. They both changed it back after her divorce.” He snapped his mouth shut, as if realizing he was telling a lot of personal things about Hugo to a near-stranger. Hugo wasn’t mad, though; Rem always did have a motormouth, and that apparently hadn’t changed.
“We definitely got into our fair share of trouble,” Hugo said. “But what teenage boy doesn’t, right? I’m sure you’ve got your own stories to tell, Mr. Pearce.”
Elmer laughed. “Don’t Mr. Pearce me, son, just call me Elmer. And if you ever want to sit on my porch one evening and share a joint, I’ll probably tell you some. Don’t worry, it’s medicinal.” The wink he flashed at Hugo suggested otherwise.
Hugo hadn’t smoked weed in years, but he had a feeling a visit with Elmer would be worth it just for the stories. He was so curious about the various sculptures decorating his yard, and the man’s actual work history. Couldn’t remember anyone ever mentioning what he’d once done for a living. Considering the acreage he seemed to own, he might have been a rancher once upon a time. Hugo actually looked forward to getting to know his landlord.
“Well, I gotta get home,” Rem said. “Need to kiss Susie goodnight before she goes to bed.”
“Of course.” Hugo shook his hand, then gave Rem a friendly bro-style hug. “It was great seeing you, and I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. First day actually working your ranch, instead of just pissing around and getting into trouble.”
“See you in the morning. Hey, you drink coffee? I can bring a thermos from the house.”
He’d grabbed a jar of instant coffee at the store, but that would taste like bitter water compared to what he was used to Patrice making for the staff. “That would be great, actually, until I can buy a coffeepot of my own.” He actually needed to take a quick inventory of the place and see what else he might need, in terms of plates, pots and pans, and such.
At least he’d thought to buy a package of toilet paper.
“I won’t keep you, either,” Elmer said. “I’m sure you want to settle in. Sorry there’s no TV, but there’s a card in that drawer there with the Wi-Fi password, so feel free to use that for your phone or whatever gadget you’ve got.”
“Thank you, sir,” Hugo replied. He hadn’t really thought ahead about how to entertain himself in the evenings, so now he’d be able to stream things on his phone. And use his reading app.
“Sure, sure. You need anything, feel free to knock on my door.”
Once both his guests left, Hugo glanced around his new digs for, well, however long he stayed. It had about as much square footage as the cabin he’d once shared with Winston, but now all this space was his. No roommate for the first time in years, and the rent was really reasonable. Might only have to touch his savings once until his first paycheck from Woods Ranch came through.
He’d actually done this. Made the move back to Texas. Had dinner with his old crush at their family home. Moved into a fifth wheel with a plan to start a brand-new job tomorrow. He wasn’t sure how things would turn out with the ranch or Brand, but he’d abide by his promise to work hard and do his very best to make Woods Ranch a success.
Smiling to himself, Hugo hauled his suitcases into the tiny bedroom area and started to unpack.
* * *
Instead of waiting for her to call him back whenever she got a break, Brand drove into town to the Roost, the bar he preferred drinking at the most, because it was cleaner and had better music. Also, Ramie worked there, and he really needed to talk. Seeing Hugo again was fucking with his head worse than Brand imagined it might in the two weeks since Dad announced Hugo had been hired.
The little shit was under his skin already, and they’d only spent an hour together today. Spending multiple hours with him daily going forward? Not good, which was why he was having Jackson show Hugo around tomorrow.
The Roost was an unassuming building on the outskirts of town with a gravel parking lot and only a handful of neon beer signs in the windows. Less flashy than the other two bars in town, which tended to attract the older, grumpier clientele who loved to down pitchers of beer and loudly complain about liberals ruining the country. He parked his pickup next to half-a-dozen others and climbed out. Despite being close to town, thousands of stars still twinkled brightly overhead, and he took a moment to admire them. To wonder if his big brother, Colt, was seeing similar stars as the sun set over California.
Brand had been sixteen when Colt ran away from home and disappeared from their lives, and it had hurt. A lot. And then sixteen more years passed before Colt drove back home with his boyfriend in tow, and Brand finally began to understand Colt’s reasons for leaving. He’d left to be his true, gay self, while Brand...hid. And worked. And denied himself anything except the most basic physical pleasures.
But Hugo had stirred things back up, and Brand needed to talk to his best friend.
He stepped into a familiar space that was mostly a long, oval bar, with a few tables and chairs off to the left, and a meager dancing area in the back. The place served basic bar food like nachos and potato skins, which allowed them to open at ten on Sunday and appease old liquor laws. It smelled like cigarettes, booze and sweat, and the dim lighting made it look sleazier than it actually was, because the owners were good people. Took care of their guests and made sure single women got to their cars safe at night.
Brand plopped himself on a free stool at the bar and waited for Ramie to notice him. She was pouring something out of a shaker into two martini glasses, which she eventually delivered to a pair of women. When she noticed him, she winked, then took the order of someone who’d been there before Brand.
He took a moment to admire his friend. Ramie was his age, with thick black hair and a very curvy figure she showed off with tight blouses and even tighter jeans. “It helps me get better tips,” was her excuse for the clothes, and he didn’t blame her. Bartending was a hard gig sometimes, and despite her petite frame, she took no bullshit from her customers, snapping right back with on-point sarcasm or dry wit.
Brand didn’t have that same sort of self-confidence; no wonder he liked her so much.
She finally came over with his standard longneck and a bowl of peanuts. “He got in today, didn’t he?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Brand took a long, hard pull on the beer, savoring its yeasty goodness. No one sat on either side of him, so Brand leaned in. “I knew I’d feel something when I saw him again, but this is more confusing than I imagined. And I’m his fucking boss now, so I can’t do anything about it.”
“So what are you going to do? Avoid him at all costs? Spend every night either banging me or Jackson, so you don’t have to think about him?”
Brand grunted and drank more beer, nearly emptying the bottle this time. “Maybe. I don’t know. Can’t see that working anyway, since we’ve always been a once-every-few-weeks sort of thing.”
“Well, you are good enough to scratch the occasional itch. Be back.” She moved off to serve another customer. Eight o’clock on a Sunday didn’t mean booming business, but tips were always better if customers didn’t have to wait for service.
If Brand wasn’t still full from supper, he might have ordered a plate of their spicy wings just for something to do with his hands while Ramie handled customers. She moved fluidly around the bar area, filling drinks and delivering food from the window to the small kitchen. They’d first met here, not long after Brand came home from college, and they’d hit it off right away. A strong connection that didn’t turn into a sexual relationship until a few months later.
The sex had been good, and it still was, but they didn’t have that deeper emotional attraction to make this anything more between them than the need for the occasional one-off. They had, however, become great friends, always there to lean on the other in times of drama or personal crisis. Like now.
He ate a few peanuts, then nursed the second beer Ramie left in front of him. They both knew his drinking limits. By nine, two people were dancing to a Kenny Rogers song, but a lot of the bar had thinned out, so Ramie parked herself near Brand’s spot.
“So do you still have feelings for this kid?” she asked as she wiped a glass dry.
“Fuck if I know.” Brand poked at the paper label on his bottle. “And he’s hardly a kid anymore. He’s very much grown and has gone through stuff, I can tell, and I’m curious but...ugh.”
“You don’t want him to read too much into your curiosity and make a pass that you might not be able to resist?”
He glared at her. “Maybe. It was just so odd the way he left without a damned word after we...you know.” He couldn’t make himself say the word kissed even though he’d admitted it to her years ago. And maybe a year stood between that kiss and Hugo leaving, but it had still hurt in its own way. “Just left the whole state without a word.” More than once, he’d considered asking Rem if he knew what had happened, but Brand had been too scared that Rem would say he knew what Brand and Hugo had done that day in the barn.
Then years passed, Hugo stayed away, and Rem never said a word. Not even after Colt came home and announced he was gay. So Brand had left it alone. But what if his little brother knew more than he was saying?
Tonight was not the night to ask.
Ramie glanced around the almost empty bar, then ducked her head low. “If you still have questions about that night, then ask Hugo. Be an adult and talk to him. At least get it off your chest so working with him won’t be so weird for you. You owe yourself that much, especially with all the other stress you’ve got going on right now.”
“You’re right.” As much as Brand dreaded it, he did need to talk to Hugo. To clear the air between them so they could work together well as boss and employee for the next, well, however long. “Shouldn’t I give it a few days, though? Let Hugo get comfortable at the ranch and his new job?”
“That’s up to you. I’d think about being honest sooner than later, considering you’re his boss now, but that’s just me. I don’t know Hugo at all, but I do know you, Brand. You’re a good guy, and you deserve to find someone who’ll make you happy for a long time. Not just for an hour of fun.”
“Thanks, Ramie. You do, too, you know.”
She grinned. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone long term. I’ll scratch my itch and then go about my life. And I promise if you find someone who’ll keep you for the long run, I won’t be jealous. I’ll be first in line to cheer you on.”
He held up his hand, knuckles out. “You’re a good woman, Rachel Marie.”
“Don’t you tell anybody.” She fist-bumped him, then went off to take a drink order.
Brand watched his friend work her magic, whether expertly snapping a cap off a beer bottle so it flew straight in the trash or pouring a mixed drink for the occasional high-end patron. They got along great, had decent chemistry in bed, and they both listened really well. Until Brand got his Hugo problem figured out, he’d need someone to listen.
Probably for a while.
Ugh. Why couldn’t life have stayed as simple as it had been before Hugo Turner marched back into his family’s ranch?
Chapter Four
It took Hugo a few minutes to figure out the scooter the next morning—mostly because the mug of instant coffee he’d made wasn’t doing him any favors with his slight jet lag—and then he was puttering down the state road toward Woods Ranch. His stomach roiled with nerves like it always did on his first day at a new job, but at least he knew people here and had support. Rem had his back. He had no idea what Brand thought about this whole thing, because he’d been cagey as hell during dinner last night.
Hopefully, he’d get at least one private conversation with his new foreman today.
He admired the wide-open skies on his drive up the dirt lane to the ranch. Ever since he was a kid, he’d loved being outdoors, free to run around and experience nature. Maybe that was why he’d never landed in a big city, preferring small towns and small jobs as he wandered from state to state. Trying to leave his past behind in another small town not too far from here.
A few other vehicles were parked near the barn, so Hugo left the scooter there. Woods Ranch was a small, family-run operation with only a handful of employees, so the hands didn’t live on-site anymore. The structure of the former bunkhouse stood behind the barn and was mostly used for storage, Rem had told him. No one had lived in it in all the years Hugo had known Rem.
A tall, well-muscled, tanned man stepped out from the open doors of the barn, hands on his hips. He wore a typical arrangement of boots, jeans, a light jacket, and Stetson, and his pointed look settled directly on Hugo. “You the new guy?”
Hugo nodded. “Yes, sir. Hugo Turner. I was told to be here by eight.”
The man glanced at his wristwatch—something Hugo wasn’t used to seeing much anymore since most people had cell phones. “You’re two minutes late.”
Oh good grief, really? “I apologize. I’ve never ridden Rem’s scooter before and wasn’t sure how long the drive from Elmer’s place would take me.”
“Do better tomorrow. Name’s Jackson Sumner. Brand told me to show you the ropes today.”
“Nice to meet you.” Hugo shook his hand, unsurprised by the tight, calloused grip. Jackson definitely had “career ranch hand” written all over him. A few of the guys he’d worked with in California had had a similar look and feel to them, and Hugo definitely wanted to stay on Jackson’s good side. “I’m somewhat familiar with the barn and land, since I was here a lot as a teenager.”
“That’s fine, but I imagine a few things have changed, including our gradual switch to organic, grass-fed beef. Today is easing you into our routines, learning where everything is kept, meeting the horses you’ll be riding, and the lay of the land. The grass-fed have a lot larger grazing pasture than the other beef, so we gotta keep a special eye on wanderers.”
“Understood.” Hugo glanced around but didn’t see Brand or Rem anywhere in sight yet. “Is it just us?”
“Nah, Rem and Brand will be out soon enough, I reckon. Other guy we had broke his hand a few weeks ago and is on leave, so things are a little tight with the workload around here. You’re in for long days, kid.”
The “kid” comment irritated him a bit, because Jackson didn’t look that much older than him, but appearances were often deceiving. Especially when you met someone for the first time. “I’m no stranger to hard work. I came here to work and I’ll do my part.”
“Good man. I’ll show you around.”
They went into the barn’s small break room first, which was basically a converted horse stall with a half-sized fridge, microwave, and three-seat table. But it was clean, and Hugo put his sandwich in the fridge to eat later. The barn was mostly what he remembered, from the horse stalls to the tack room full of equipment, to the area where the horses were regularly cleaned and/or tacked for riding.
“We’ve got a fair mix of mares and geldings,” Jackson said as they peeked into various stalls. “Good mounts, and they know how to act around the cattle.”
Hugo didn’t see nameplates on the stalls, and he glanced in at a beautiful palomino. The horse approached and let Hugo stroke her velvety-soft nose. “What’s this one’s name?”
“No name.”
“The horse doesn’t have a name?”
Jackson tilted his head to the side, one eyebrow quirked. “No name.”
“Why haven’t you named the horse yet?”
“I said No Name.”
Then it clicked. “Wait, the horse’s name is No Name?”
“That’s what I just said.”
Hugo felt like he was in the middle of an Abbott and Costello skit, and he very nearly asked “Who’s on first?” but refrained. Jackson didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d take well to the joke. “That’s, um, an interesting name.”
“Mr. Woods chose the name when the horse was born two years ago. Based on the lyrics of a song he loved.”
Unsure if Mr. Woods was Brand or Wayne, Hugo erred on the side of it being Wayne, since Brand had always been fond of more modern rock music. At least as far as Hugo knew, but Brand could have changed. “It’s definitely unique. Hello there, No Name.”
The horse nickered.
Hugo met the other mounts, doing his best to remember everyone’s name. Learned where the feed and hay for the nonorganic herd was stored, and where all the equipment was stored around the large barn. Deeper in the barn were all the cows currently pregnant after the last visit from the local AI technician, and who were scheduled to calf in the near future.
“All the new calves will go into the grass-fed pasture,” Jackson explained. “The plan is to transition over the next year into all organic, grass-fed beef. Brand says it hits an eager niche market, so that’s what we’ll do. Just means a bit more attention on the cattle in the west pasture as the herd grows. He wants the herd to have room to wander, but not to separate too far.”
