Page 19 of Baker
My brothers—half-brothers—smiled awkwardly. Both still looked a touch green around the gills for their social faux paus.
“Lost it checking fence,” I lied, which Ollie picked up instantly. He was too good at reading people not to know I was hiding something. The man was stupidly perceptive, which was why he was such a good lawman.
“You run into a row of hot mufflers out there on the back forty as well?” He jerked his chin at my neck, which broughtmy silent siblings’ attention to the marks left by a passionate photographer. I would have to make sure Hanley only sucked on places that no one could see while having casual conversation.
“Bees.” That one was a doozy of a lie, and Ollie was already giving me a dark arched brow.
“Thought you said you ran into a redbud clump after your horse saw a coyote?” Dodge tossed out to be a dick. Ford bobbed his head. Ollie smirked.
“There were bees in the redbud clump. We better get inside and get our order placed. Tell Hank I said hello.”
“Yep, will do. See you around town,” Ollie said to Dodge and looked at the other two men standing there. I rolled my eyes as I shunted my feed hauling help into the whitewashed brick office. Penny Long, the pleasant and plump wife of Bill Long, the mill manager, was working the desk.
“Morning, Baker, you showing your brothers around?” she asked while bringing up my account on her desktop. Dodge stood by the glass door, his attention on something—Ollie Ahoka probably—while Ford went to his knee to call over Daisy, a red merle Hanging Tree Cowdog that liked to visit the mill when she wasn’t herding cattle. She was now sidelined due to how pregnant she was. Rumor was Daisy had gotten knocked up by some passing gigolo and not by a purebred Hanging Tree stud, much to her owner’s chagrin. Amazing how fast a dog can dig a hole under a fence…the dog shuffled over to Ford, and the two of them shared all kinds of scratches and kisses. It was obvious that Ford liked dogs.
“Sure am, Penny. We need a few dozen bags of goat feed.” I leaned on the counter to smile around the door at Bill as he sipped his coffee in the back office. He raised a hand. I nodded hello, then brought my sight back to Penny and my feed bill that was printing out. “Can you put that on my account?”
“I have it,” Dodge said, yanking his attention from outside to step up bold as a bull to slap cash on the counter. “We’re partners now,” he reminded me softly as he pocketed the invoice.
I wanted to say something snide but bit it back. Much as it ate at me to say it, Dodge was right. We were partners now. With a shrug, I said goodbye and went back outside.
“That was a nice dog,” Ford said as we piled in and pulled to the loading dock where Penny and Bill’s son John would toss the bags of feed into the back of the truck. He was already back in the massive storage area gathering our order, the sound of the small handheld walkie-talkie on his hip carrying out on the soft dusty wind.
“She’s going to whelp in a few weeks,” I mentioned offhandedly, although it was quite obvious the dog was due soon, as we waited for John to arrive on the skid steer with a pallet of goat grain. Goats. How the hell had I let them talk me into goats? Guess some of the other shit going on at home wasn’t any odder than goats. Cabins being made into posh little getaway spots, and a dress shop in the springhouse. I shuddered to think what else this band of big city dreamers would come up with next. “Pretty costly, though.”
Ford sighed. Out of all of us, he and Bella had the least ready cash. I’d wanted to ask why they’d left New York on a bus with only the clothes on their backs, but neither of them seemed inclined to talk about their pasts much. Unlike the other two who jabbered nonstop about Chicago and Sacramento and the people they knew back there. Bella and Ford were closed-mouthed, and that made me a little suspect. I’d run the idea of having background checks done on them with Granny the other night. She nearly tore me in two. Still, I could talk to Ollie. On the sly, of course.
“I wonder if Dahn would like a puppy?” Dodge asked no one in particular.
The roar of the skid steer starting filled the loading dock.
“I got nothing against dogs, but they got to earn their keep. So if you bring in some poofy poodle dog…” I left it hanging as John rounded a corner with a pallet of yellow bags with goats on the front.
Dodge nodded in understanding. We climbed up to help John load our order into the back, then set out for town, where Dodge did some banking while Ford and I bought fencing supplies and three cold cans of pop for the ride home. A text reminder buzzed in as we waited for Dodge to exit the Bastian Grange Savings & Loan.
Dodge was beaming when he climbed into the truck ten minutes later. “So, all of my money is now in this bank, and I can write checks to workmen.” He waved his little booklet of starter checks in the air. “Also, I had a text from Dahn, and he’s going to come visit over the Easter holiday. Chris is okay with it because he was signed up to do a cruise with other college alumni, which he failed to mention.” The fine lines around his mouth tightened. “But, whatever. So Dahn will be flying out in a week. I’ll let him bunk with me.”
I nodded. Whatever. What was one more person when the house was already packed to the rim? Granny would be in seventh heaven when she heard that news. I made a mental note to lock up her ammo and gun before Dahn arrived. We pulled away from the curb and headed home, Dodge chatting excitedly about the day they found out that the tiny baby they’d been trying to adopt from South Korea had finally arrived. The love and joy when he spoke of his son radiated out of him. For a second, I was a bit envious, but I shoved that down to replace it with happiness for my brother. Half-brother. And it gave me a little hope. Dodge was proof that even if your father was a rottenbastard who skipped out on all his responsibilities, it did not mean you would be the same kind of shithead. Dodge was the opposite of Cash, and that was a really good thing.
The chit-chat on the long ride home bounced around just like we did in the cab. The dirt roads were rough after a hard winter and the spring thaws. Also, the old truck needed new shocks and struts, but they cost money we didn’t have. Still didn’t, to be honest. All the cash pouring into the ranch was from Linc and Dodge. Ford and I were just the grunts, but hey, if being the strong backs saved my home and legacy, then I’d tote feed and dig ditches for eternity.
We pulled into the drive to find that our one and only large animal vet, Aiden Hennessee, was waiting for us inside his big white pickup. I’d been lucky to catch him before he left on his rounds of local farms this morning. I’d wanted him here when the goats arrived to give them a good look over. Cattle I knew. Goats? Not a fucking clue. Which was why Aiden was here in his standard overalls and waterproof boots.
Aiden was a tall drink of water with dark hair and even darker brown eyes. He reminded me of Colin Farrell a good deal with those broody good looks.
“Morning,” the vet called between sips from a thermos that had funny little vet stickers plastered over the sides. He eyed my siblings with obvious curiosity. “Must be some of the new Bastian boys I’ve heard about. Aiden, local vet and poker hotshot.” He shook Dodge and Ford’s hands, then mine.
“If hotshot means losing every time we play, then sure, you’re a hotshot. Thanks for stopping by on such short notice. Like I said on the phone, I don’t know a damn thing about goat conformity and all that. I did contact other folks who have bought goats from this breeder, and they all speak well of him and his animals.”
“Happy to swing by,” Aiden replied as he settled his backside against the fender of his truck. “I know the breeder well. Kids have won lots of blue ribbons on those meat goats. You should do well if you read up on how to tend to goats.”
“I read a lot online,” Ford piped up as a soft blush pinked his cheeks. “I mean, not as much as you know, being a vet and all, but I did read a lot.”
“Good. That’ll be one person here who knows about the new goats,” Aiden replied with a soft smile for my incredibly shy half-brother. Ford nodded, pulled his borrowed cowboy hat down to shield his eyes, and made a beeline to the springhouse.
“He’s a little awkward,” Dodge explained before heading inside to try to make some sense of the bookkeeping mess he had inherited. I was happy to pass that off to him. Hell, I’d have handed that clutter to anyone who could add and subtract better than me, which was…well, probably any ten-year-old. Dahn was probably better at math than me. My skills were more agriculturally based. Not that one didn’t need mathematical knowledge for farming because one certainly did. I guess it wasn’t that I sucked at numbers. I could calculate how much seed would be needed for this acreage or that plot, application rates of fertilizer, when to breed cows and when they were due to calf. Lots of things required mathematics. I just hated sitting at a desk pouring over receipts. Maybe what I loathed the most was watching our ranch lose money every quarter. Probably so.
“He’s cute,” Aiden commented into his thermos.
