Page 19 of Cowboy Dreams

“Whatever my boss needs me to ride. Tango, mostly. He’s a Paint gelding, fifteen-three, lots of cow sense. Dolly, she’s got some Thoroughbred in her, mixed with Quarter, a little high strung but she can cut like a dream. And we got an Appaloosa named Spot.”

“Original,” Sylvester drawled, and I liked that he had his sass back.

“Right? Spot’s a good girl, endurance to beat all the rest. If I need to be on horseback for a long day, I pick Spot.”

“No horse of your own?”

“Not anymore.” I’d had Pepper for eighteen years, which was more than some folks got, but not long enough. I’d only been able to afford her because I bought her off the boss when he thought she’d die of being orphaned. I’d hand reared her. “Had one but she colicked and I lost her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Been a couple years. She was kind of a brat.” But I could feel a fond smile grow, remembering. Two years had taken some of the sting out of my memories, and I could say, “I might’ve spoiled her a bit. I was just twenty when I got her.”Gave the boss every penny I’d saved and never regretted it.“She was an Appy too, white with black leopard spots, a tall girl.”

“Hm.” Sylvester looked like he was mulling something over, but he didn’t share. “Shall we check out the pasture?” He threw a glance at my feet. “You might want boots on.” I was about to say something along the lines of“No shit,”when he added, “Much as I like your feet bare.”

“You what?” I peered down at my toes. “I got three breaks, a dozen calluses, and a lot of miles on these things.”

“I told you, I’m hooked on a working cowboy. Come on, let’s go see what I’ve got.”

We went out the kitchen door together. The grass had grown up knee-high behind the house, but a beaten dirt track still led to the barn and pasture. I checked the corral gate first, then showed Sylvester how to test the fence boards for missing nails and cracks or give. We circled around and met on the far side. “A couple could stand more nails,” I said. “One that’s cracked and should be replaced. Your side?”

“The same. I guess a lumberyard is next.”

“Let me check the barn.” Whatever else you might say about old man Pascal— and apparently that was a lot more bad shit than just antisocial hermit— he wasn’t a fool. He wouldn’t run off to the lumberyard for every broken rail.

Sure enough, we found the stash of boards and rails in a stall in the barn. Hammer, pry bar, and nails in the tool room, and we were good to go. I quickly found I liked working with Sylvester. He took orders well, here where I knew what I was doing and he didn’t. He had some decent muscle, however he’d built it, and did his share. I made him put on gloves and was glad of it when the second board splintered to hell, coming off.

Half an hour was enough to make that corral good and solid. There was a lean-to in the corner that would give enough shelter till the snows came, and the tap for the water trough worked. The back gate opened into a pasture with good grazing, although I’d need to check the wire fence. “This’ll do for now, but the barn’s not in as bad shape as I expected. We can probably pick out a stall and use it. We’ll need to check the home pasture fence and no doubt string some wire and then you’ll have grazing space.”

Sylvester turned in a slow scan, taking in his ranch from the big fancy house to the weathered barn to the tall-grass pasture that led off to scraggly trees with the mountains behind. “Thanks.”

“I don’t mind nailing a few boards.”

“Not for that.” He turned back to me, his expression earnest. He’d got a bit of sun and the bridge of his nose was red. “For making me believe this can happen the way I envisioned it. For not being scornful like the so-called expert on Zoom. The dream from when I was ten doesn’t look so foolish when a guy like you breaks it down and keeps it real.”

I kicked a bit of dirt because I liked that a lot. I said, “Speaking of real, you better buy yourself a hat too, Rudolph.”

He touched his nose and laughed. “We’ll put it on the list. Want to go look at horses?”

I was never gonna say no to that. “What’s your budget?”

“If I say ‘Whatever I need to spend’ will you laugh?”

“Only if you say it around Browning when I’m trying to get you a deal. We should be able to stay under ten grand. You don’t need a horse with too much handle for someone starting out. You’ll want a pleasure ride, not a cutting horse.”

“We talked about having cows.”

“Yeah, eventually. We also talked about you hiring some hands who know what the hell they’re doing. You’re the boss, you need to be able to get around the ranch and supervise, but you’re not going to be ropin’ and cuttin’ for a year or two. Your horse can learn alongside you.”

“That makes sense.” Sylvester dusted his hands on his jeans. In his flannel over a T-shirt, with his hair wind-blown and his nose pink, he looked like a different guy from the city slicker who’d picked me up at Max’s. That guy was hot, but I liked this one a lot.

I said, “We should take my truck. Browning’s got a long drive up to his house. Not sure your Mustang would like the ruts. Besides, he sees that car and he’s going to tack an extra grand on the price of the horse.”

“I have the Highlander SUV.”

“You heard the ‘tack on extra’ bit?”

“Sure, your truck is fine. Let’s wash up and we can go.”

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