Page 13 of Dirty Cowboys
Someone yells out shark week and Josie loses her cool. I turn to see who is a dead man walking and see it’s the young Stevens boy, who only started this week. He’s a good kid, works hard, but he and Josie seem to clash. She catches him easily. Girl has been working here since she was ten years old and has more muscle on her than he does. She takes him to the ground, bends his arm behind his back as the other boys cheer her on, and the poor kid taps out.
Walker steps up onto the fence rail. “Alright, ladies, boys, and pups, listen up,” he yells, cuttingthrough the early morning shuffle. “We’re running freeze brands today, so I don’t want any sloppy work. These calves carry the Callahan mark now, and that means they leave here clean.” He points at a couple of the crew. “You two are draggers. I want calves brought to the pad. This is no damn rodeo.” He glares at Wyatt, whose smile is ear to fucking ear.
“Wrestlers,” he continues, nodding at a few more. “Two per calf. Lock them down. We’ve only got a few seconds once that iron’s cold enough, so hold tight and don’t let them twist.” He scans his gaze across the gathered workers, chin lifting slightly. “I’m on brand today. Right hip only. You screw up the handoff, you answer to me. Oh, and Sarah Beth is the vaccinator for today.”
Walker’s eyes land on the two ranch pups, fresh-faced and trying not to look nervous.
“And now, the glamorous work,” he drawls. “You.” He points to the taller one. “You’re our iron runner. And you,” Walker says, turning to the smaller one, “you’re on tagging. Left ear gets tagged, welcome to ranch life.”
A couple of groans and muffled laughs follow.
“Any questions?” Walker asks, hands on his hips, and Indie raises her hand. Walker’s eyes cut to hers.
“City slicker, what can I do for you?”
“Can I take pictures?”
“As long as you stay out of the way. You get hurt—that’s on you.”
She beams at him. He doesn’t notice as he gets back to addressing everyone.
“We have a lot to do today, and I don’t want to be out all night. Now get to work.”
As Walker finishes his briefing and everyone moves to their stations, I hang back, watching as Indie pulls out her phone and captures the organized chaos. She’s wearing those same damn boots, but today she’s paired them with well-fitted jeans and a flannel that actually looks like it belongs on a ranch.
“Hey, city girl,” I call out, jogging over before I lose my mind wondering.
She turns, and for a split second, I search her face for any sign of what happened between us. Yet all I see is genuine excitement and maybe a hint of nervousness about being around all the cattle.
“Nash, right?” she says with a smile that doesn’t screamthis man fucked me into the dirt and made me cry. “This is incredible. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
The relief that hits me is almost embarrassing. “Yeah, well, stick around. It gets more interesting.” I gesture toward the holding pens. “Want me to show you around? Walker wasn’t kidding about staying outof the way—these animals are bigger than they look, and they don’t give a shit where you’re from.”
“That would be amazing,” she says, already raising her phone. “My followers are going to eat this up. They are loving the cowboy vibes.”
We walk toward the branding area, and I fall into step beside her, close enough I can smell whatever cherry-scented stuff she uses in her hair.
I explain what is happening and why. I know it’s a lot to take in when you have never been to the country before, let alone a ranch. She snaps a few pictures as I explain everything, and I guide her to a spot where the morning sun hits the side of the pens, my hand briefly touching her lower back. She doesn’t flinch away, which helps calm my nerves about taking things too far, even if she doesn’t know it was me. Sarah Beth spots her and waves.
“You seem to know a lot about photography angles for a cowboy,” she teases, adjusting her position to take more pictures.
“I know a lot about a lot of things,” I reply, immediately regretting how that sounds.
But she just laughs. “I bet you do, cowboy.”
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward where Walker’s setting up the branding station. “Walker’s about to start freeze branding.”
We walk over to where he has everything set up,steam rising from the metal brands as he dips them. Duke’s positioned nearby, arms crossed, watching with his usual intensity. Acting all boss-like.
“What exactly is freeze branding?” Indie asks, raising her phone but hesitating to film before she knows exactly what’s happening.
“A more humane way of branding,” I explain.
Walker looks up from his prep work, catching Indie’s wide-eyed stare. “It’s less painful than hot branding,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Does it hurt them?” Indie asks with genuine concern in her voice.
“For a few seconds,” Walker answers. “Then it’s just cold. They forget about it faster than you’d forget a bee sting.”
