Page 67 of Brett and Rowdy
“Yeah, El Jefe said. They’re gonna butt heads.”
He couldn’t fight his smile. “Yep, and I’m not gonna have anything to do with that. I’m just gonna nod and smile.”
He and his dad had fought about things when he was a young man. And Dad could fight with Maddie now, because everybody knew Rowdy was the boss.
“What you want for dinner tonight?”
“Uh, we had burgers last night.”
She snorted. “Blake’s. I saw the trash.”
Lord, he could hear her wrinkle her nose. “Yes. How about enchiladas? I haven’t had good Mexican food in weeks.”
“That’s because there’s no good Mexican food there.”
“No. They got nice fish though. Way better, way better seafood than we can get.”
Rose started laughing at him. “Well, Mr. Rowdy, there’s no sea here.”
“No, there’s not. We can get some good trout, though.” Another cup of coffee appeared at his wrist about the time he finished his first, and Frank came wandering in at that second with a hello.
“Howdy, Boss. How goes it?”
“Glad to be home. Tickled shitless, in fact. How’s it going here?”
“Well, we’ve moved all the cattle up to the high range. Mustangs are looking good. We went in and gave immunizations. We’re moving the sheep and the goat pastures around. You know, because they just?—”
“They’re sheep. I know.” He yawned and let the business of the ranch just kind of pour over and through him, feeding his soul. This is what he was here for, after all.
Slow, but sure, everybody started wandering in—the camp cook. The drovers. Nicole, their office manager who booked all the cabins throughout the year. Their evil shithead forestry specialist who had been a park ranger for ten years before he’d gotten in between a mountain lion and a kid who thought that was a big kitty.
Now Rick was drawing on his disability and working for the ranch.
“Man, I thought this time they’d just keep you up there.”
“I keep telling you, Rick, it’s over, not up. You’re not real bright, man, are you?”
“Now if I was real bright, I’d go get a real job with somebody who paid money.”
“Well, aren’t you triple dipping or some shit?”
Rick hooted. “Something like that.”
Mr. Mann gave a soft woof and got up, nails clicking, and he would bet Brett was up and moving around. He’d go check if the man didn’t appear here soon.
“That’s some new dog you got,” Rick murmured.
“That’s Brett’s dog. He’s here to visit a bit. You should have heard how he reacted to the llama last night.”
“Lord. I bet. Those things look like aliens.”
They chatted while the burritos started to appear on the table with a clatter, the scent making his mouth water.
“Morning.” Brett said it from the doorway, and he lifted his head, turning to hear him better.
“Hey, you. Come on in and sit down. Rose is making burritos.”
“It smells amazing.”
