Page 55 of Brett and Rowdy
“Yes, sir.”
“I thought so. I was there the day of your last ride. We were all praying hard for you that day.”
“Thank you.” Rowdy smiled, kind of in the man’s direction, and the expression seemed to be… honest. “That’s awful kind of you. I needed them.”
“My name’s Charles Houma. I’m a big fan of the roughstock guys. Well, I just wanted to say it was always good to see you ride, and I’m glad you’re all right and doing well.”
“I am, thank you.”
Charles glanced at him. “Are you a roughstock rider, too?”
“Me?” Brett blinked at him. “God, no. I’m just?—”
“He’s a metal artist,” Rowdy broke in. “He’s got pieces all over, amazing stuff.”
Charles blinked, then he smiled. “Metal art? Really?”
“Yes, sir,” Rowdy said. “It’s the most amazing stuff I’ve ever felt. He does furniture, he does big installations, he does all sorts of stuff.”
“No shit? Well, I got me a store here. I deal in high-end furnishings, and I’m always looking for a new artist. You’ve got pictures or something like a portfolio online.”
“Well, I mean, yeah, but?—”
“You got a card, Brett, a business card?”
He hoped so. He hadn’t expected to do any work or sales out here. He grabbed his wallet and dug through it, finding one. “Yeah, here please. My website’s on there, and it’s up-to-date. And if you find things that you like or would like to talk, just give me a call.”
“Oh, excellent.” The guy smiled and took the card and handed him one of his own. “Well, this has been my lucky day. Got to meet one of my heroes and meet a new artist. I just couldn’t ask for anything better.”
The guy wandered off, and Brett blinked. “Did you just get me commissions?”
“Possibly. That’s what you do for a living, right?”
“Yeah, it is. I just. Thank you, man.”
“Of course.”
Just, of course. Brett shook his head, because he knew his lover couldn’t see it. He had a feeling this was what Rowdy did for people. He’d seen it with Ashley now, both back in the day and with taking out that damn teacher and just accepting he might get arrested. He’d done it with Madison. Of course, they would take her back to New Mexico. Of course, they would get her new boots. Of course, he would find Brett a possible gallery situation.
“You okay, darlin’?” Rowdy asked.
“I am. Just admiring you. Should we head for the restaurant and have Madison meet us there?” The shops area of the Stockyards seemed safe enough.
“That’s a grand idea. They have the best bread. We can carb load a little.”
“Good deal.” He did love some bread and butter, and they’d had hotel breakfast this morning, which had been a wee bit sad, so he was starving himself.
And it would be a while before they got supper.
“Well, let me take your arm. Barney is good, but you’re better at figuring out what crowds of humans might do, and you can verbalize it to me.”
“You know it.” He’d learned that what a seeing eye dog actually did was help the person they were helping make the best choices they could. People thought these dogs were like, superdogs. And they were. But all they could do was cue the handler into an obstacle, not tell them how to work around it.
Brett found the whole process eye-opening and fascinating. Like in a crowd like this, Barney might be just as likely to lead Rowdy into a weird alley or off onto the side of the street if the sidewalk was too crowded.
And considering that they had cattle drives in the street here a few times a day, that could be downright dangerous.
They walked down toward the Cattleman’s, which he learned had been around since the late 1940s. How cool was that? There were all these famous bulls on the walls, all sorts of cowboy stuff, and he thought it was a hoot. He’d been to his share of East Coast rodeos growing up with his gramps, but this was hardcore cowboy culture.
