Page 11 of Rough Cowboy
My arm snaps out, and I grab my brother. “Did you hear that?”
Dean groans. “I swear, if you’re just gonna fuck monologue instead of offering up some actual details, I’m not interested.”
“No. Damn it, Dean. Listen. It sounds like cattle.”
“There’s a pen across the driveway.” He takes a step, but I hail him back.
“It sounds like this side of the driveway.” I turn to face my parent’s winding laneway.
There are damn cattle everywhere. They are squeezing between vehicles, grazing on the grass, and heading down the damn gravel path toward the road.
“The cows are loose!” Mayor Thomas is the first to notice, leaping to his feet. He points at the escapees, and his arm knocks his straw hat off his head. “Fiddlesticks!”
He bends down to retrieve it, and Rita uses his back to push off the lawn chair and onto her rocking legs.
“They want a slice of cake!” she shouts. “Can cows eat cake? Do we have enough cake for the cows?”
“Good lord, woman, we aren’t feeding the cows cake!” The Mayor stands, and Rita falls back onto the lawn chair. The folding legs wobble and bend, sending her flying backward.
“Who the hell left the gate open?” My father’s booming growl pierces the yard as his stocky body bounds toward the cattle. “Stay calm, for fuck sake!”
All my older brothers are on his heels.
“Form in the rear,” Hart orders, always the bossiest brother.
“We’re gonna apply pressure from the rear to initiate movement,” Wheeler clarifies, the one who sits back, observes, and gives the best instructions.
“Move slowly and calmly,” Ford barks out in his usual run first and asks questions later form.
“We don’t want the cattle to feel threatened and begin to run.” Beck’s tone is softer but still strict. His love for animals radiates softness in his personality, much like Sammy.
Considering most of the town has herded cattle at some point, everyone is quick to abandon the designated party area to lend a hand. And those not offering wobble over to stick their noses where they don’t belong.
Damn local dillydallies.
Dean has taken a page out of their book as he wanders in the direction slow as molasses, not offering a helping hand, but his smile indicates he’s enjoying the show.
Even the Quylt sisters meander from their baby-daddy betting station. The poor suckers who choose me are in for a big surprise. My lack of swimmers gives me a free pass from daddyhood. Realistically not a free pass, but I wrap it before I tap it ‘cause there ain’t no way I’m knocking up no woman.
“Fugitive cows!” Rita is flat on her back, trying to bend the straw to sip her drink.
“Ah, hell.” I amble over to the older woman whose red hair splays around her head like the burning sun.
She peeks at me through thin slits. “There’s my golden ticket to easy money. If anyone’s irresponsible enough to knock up a gal, it’s you.” She lifts her arm and salutes her drink to me. In the process, a liquid stream shoots out of the straw and sprays her face.
“Come on, now.” I curl my hands under the batwing sleeves of her red dress and hoist her to her feet. “Keep ‘er steady.”
My boot kicks up her chair, and I swing it around, straightening the leg before I plop Rita down toward the cattle commotion. That’s when I notice Sammy creeping under the baby-daddy reveal tent instead of rushing to assist with the cattle situation.
He’s a do-gooder. His first instinct would be to help. He can’t help himself. He’s just wired that way. As Rita pointed out, I’m the irresponsible one. People expect me to duck out, but not my brother.
What the fuck is he up to?
I don’t get a chance to inquire. Three significant steps in his direction, and I hear Elsie’s painful groan before I see her drop to her knees by the house.
My heart stops in a way I don’t associate with women. It’s the way my heart clenches when my brother lands wrong after he’s bucked off a bull.
Only, this is different. This feels like slivers of pain piercing my whole damn body.
