Page 18 of Drunk Dialing

“That would be because there’s no hay where we are. We live in the desert.” Jake stopped himself, cheeks going pink. “I mean you, you live in the desert.”

“Yeah, but it’s the high desert, and I got money, and I want horses.”

They started walking again, skipping the food court and heading into the animal barns. Treat loved that, how Jake was a cowboy like him, how the livestock eased their pain, the scent of hay and critters familiar as breathing.

“You still running mustangs?”

“You know it. I have two separate herds, two good, strong stallions. They’ve got about ten mares each, and I’m fixin’ to cull the herds and bring them into a third. I think I got me a young stallion that can do his job and do it well. I’m leasing some BLM land just for that purpose.” Treat believed in wild mustangs. He believed in what they meant to this country, to this space, to New Mexico. He believed that the world was a better place with wild horses in it, so he tried to mess with them as little as possible. He just went in to make sure everybody had their shots and to make sure that everybody had enough food. It had started out with one herd and now he was going to have three. Beautiful, wild, magical creatures. He could watch them for days.

Jake smiled at him, nodded. “There you go. I like it. I think you’d be happy as hell, building a team of driving horses. You could show them off at fairs and such.”

“That’s my thought. Start with a stud, a gelding, and two mares, see what it brings me. It’s an investment, sure, but?—”

“It’s your money, Treat. You ought to enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I guess so. At any rate, I need a few more calves, just to open up the bloodlines.” He chuckled. “I feel like a rich bitch, you know? But it’s what I want.” He glanced around. “And I love looking at the weird cows too. You know?”

“Well, I will trail along behind and watch.”

“Have you ever thought about investing in a calf or two?”

“Of course I have.” Jake kind of hid in his shoulders for a second, then held one hand out. “But I mean, what am I going to do with them? It’s not like I can take them home to my folks’ place. I burned that bridge pretty severely.”

“Yeah.” He’d been there, actually, for that. He’d sort of been the match to that particular flame. Or if not the match, he was the gasoline. “I’m still sorry about that.”

“I’m not. I needed a reason. I needed out, and I was going to escape one way or the other.” Jake just shook his head. “I mean, seriously, how much time can you spend trying to love somebody who doesn’t love you back.”

“Well. I guess I’d spend a lot of time on you. But that’s just me.”

“You know I’m not talking about you.”

He nodded his head. He knew.

He knew, and he was sorry about Jake’s parents.

He had been lucky. His parents hadn’t even so much as flinched when he came out. They hadn’t been surprised. They hadn’t asked him to become anybody he wasn’t. They hadn’t told him he was going to hell or asked him where their grandbabies were going to come from.

Nothing.

The only thing they’d ever asked him was if he was going to bring home his boyfriend.

“So, weird cows. Are you talking weird like miniature, weird like Highland, weird like Longhorn? Or weird like Beefalo?”

He chuckled soft. “I’ve been thinking about running buffalo.” They were dangerous as shit, and not domesticable, but he could sell the sons of bitches for some good money, and they looked cool as hell. “The question is could we get them loaded.”

“No shit. Well, that’s your choice. I mean, I’m assuming you’re talking American bison and not water buffalo.”

Look at Jake acting like a grown-up cattleman. What the hell?

“What do you know about buffalo versus bison?”

“Believe it or not. I met this girl, in…oh shit. I think eastern Colorado up near the Wyoming line. I was riding a rodeo there, and she was working in sports medicine. She and her husband had a ranch, and they ran water buffalo. I shit you not. We were laughing because American bison are like super, super big herds up there, and everyone calls them buffalo, and she ran damn water buffaloes.”

“Did she make cheese or something?” He’d heard about buffalo mozzarella…

“Yes! They made cheese and this thing called kefir. It was…there was an odor.”

“I bet. There’s a stank to it.” Treat had to grin. “I mean bison. Like mustangs, I think they need to be able to roam.”

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