Page 27 of The Cowboy's Bullfighter
“Making yourself downright familiar with my house.”
“I am.” He wasn’t going to get all pissy. “I’m pretty good at adapting these days. Australia was a big shift.”
“What’s the cowboy culture like there?” Coop asked him.
“You never been?”
“Nah. I went down to Brazil once. Up to Canada a lot. But not over there.”
He found all the stuff to make the pizza rolls, then hunted frosting and sprinkles. “It’s wild. The stations are vast. You take the King ranch and multiply it like, ten times. But you think someplace like the Four Sixes ranch is barren out in West Texas? The stations are dry as fuck and there can be miles of nothing.”
“Good rodeoing?”
“They got some damn big ones. And bullriding events too. But I was in cutting horse and reining. It’s emerging there just like it is here as a big money sport. You know how folks are about horses.”
“Yeah.” Coop shook his head, getting out cookie cutters. A big heart. A star. Stuff that would be great for the bread. “I had a friend who decided to raise polo ponies. Bought up horses at auction and trained them up, then sold them for a shitload of cash.”
“Nice.” That idea had some merit, actually. It would save a good many horses…
“I can see the wheels turning.”
“Nah. I’m just a delicate Whitehead, remember?”
“Don’t worry about Coop.” Benji grinned, and Brooks had to blink. Whoa. It totally changed his sullen face, and he looked so much like Andy that it hurt. “He thinks he’s invincible.”
Coop arched one eyebrow. “One day, grasshopper. If you’re very lucky, and you get hit by enough bulls, you will also be invincible, assuming your fragile Whitehead bones don’t just crumble under the sheer weight of a bull stare.”
“Shut up.” Benji rolled his eyes. “I’m going to be a good bullfighter. I’m not going to get hit all the time like you do.”
“Please. That is how you build strong bones. You know how they tell you walking builds strong bones? Or falling does? Well, getting hit by bulls means I’ve got amazing bones. They probably have enough little bitty breaks that they are just massive.”
Brooks looked at them both. Bullfighters. Jesus Christ.
He started pottering around in the kitchen.
“I got all this stuff for grape jelly meatballs,” Coop offered. “We can make those up. Little girls won’t eat them, but the boys will.”
“You have to make queso, Coop.” Benji managed to look right at Brooks, and that shocked the hell out of him. “I don’t suppose you know how to make Daddy’s queso?”
Brooks nodded, feeling like the answer to this question was wickedly important. “Yeah, our mom taught us how to make it. You want some?”
Benji’s lips tightened, his eyes shining for a second, but he nodded. “Yes, please. I didn’t know how to make it.”
“Well, I do, and when you’re feeling like you can stand and help, then next time I make it, you can do it. You got bulk sausage in here somewhere?” He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t. Not that cowboys didn’t, contrary to what people thought, but now was not the time.
Coop nodded to him. “Yeah, I got a deep freezer with everything known to man in there. It’s all labeled and stuff. It was one of the things the Chiaras brought me when the kids came, a freezer full of food.”
“I can’t wait to meet these folks. Can you show me where the freezer is?” He knew Kase, but not the rest of the crew.
“Sure.” Coop nodded to Benji. “Be right back. You sit, son.”
“Yessir, boss.”
Coop took him around through the courtyard and out back to this amazing kitchen area—complete with grills, pizza oven, a flattop. Oh, he was going to use the hell out of this…
“This is nice.”
“Thanks. I like it a lot. The big deep freeze is over here in the outbuilding. Four-wheelers are in there too. Tools, all sorts of stuff.” Coop pointed to a pair of storage containers that had been converted. So cool.
