“Did you notice I swapped out your sandwich filling for a can of Dog’s food?”
Michael nodded around his mouthful. “Uh-huh.”
“Big fan of liver giblets and gravy?”
“Sure.” He swallowed and reached for his can of cola, gaze fixed on the break room wall without seeing it, mind still full of his weekend with Dad and Josiah. Especially with Josiah.
“Michael, buddy, are you here?” Jackson snapped his fingers in front of Michael’s face, and that shook him out of it.
“What?” He looked at his sandwich. Still roast beef from last night’s Sunday supper. “What did you say about my liver?”
“You were a million miles away just now. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, things are great.” And they were, not counting being turned down by Josiah on Saturday night. Michael hadn’t been completely surprised by it, given Josiah’s employment status and his prior relationship (such as it was) with McBride, but it still hurt his pride a little.
He hadn’t shown it yesterday, though, when he and Josiah teamed up to get Dad’s new bedroom ready. Michael had picked up the twin bed right when the thrift store opened at eleven. He and Josiah had assembled it with no hint of awkwardness between them, only a familiar camaraderie, and Dad hadn’t seemed to sense anything had changed. Dad had been thrilled to see his new room, decorated with some of the framed photos and personal items from his upstairs bedroom.
A photo of Mom sat on the small table they’d used as a nightstand. One of the windows faced out over the front yard and so many of Dad’s favorite sculptures. He’d get some morning sunlight now that they were moving into the winter months. After existing in the living room for almost seven weeks, Dad finally had a space of his own again, and Michael had been proud to give him that.
“You sure things are great?” Jackson asked. “Tell me to butt out, because you know I will, but you’ve been really distant today.”
“I’ve just got stuff on my mind, that’s all. But things really are great. It was a good weekend.” He told Jackson more about the picnic and then assembling Dad’s room, leaving out his stargazing with Josiah, because that was private. As much as he wanted to confide in someone, he wasn’t sure Jackson was a close enough friend yet to tell about his feelings for Josiah.
Brand came into the break room just as Michael was tossing away his sandwich wrapper. “Hey, Michael, do you have an hour to go over the new website?”
“Sure, no problem.” His afternoon schedule included mucking three horse stalls, so he didn’t mind pushing that off for a little while. He grabbed his mostly empty cola and followed Brand out of the barn, across the yard to the bunkhouse/office. Brutus was spread out on the small porch, and his tail thumped against the wood floorboards when he spotted his human. Brand reached down to rub the top of his head as he passed.
The simple sight made Michael’s heart pang him for his own dog. He’d finally found out via a mutual acquaintance that Kenny had given Rosco to a neighbor Michael knew and trusted to care for Rosco, but the separation was still raw. It probably always would be. Right now, Michael found a bit of solace in spending time with Brutus and Dog.
Michael had uploaded the new Woods Ranch website a few days ago as a beta, giving Brand and his family time to explore and test the new features, one of which was an interactive blog where customers and vendors could post feedback and recipes for their beef. Brand had loved that idea, because it hit a demographic of younger foodies who leaned toward natural and organic eating, and he hoped it would help get their beef into more grocery stores and other sales outlets around the state.
Slow expansion was key, Brand often said. “Give the customer a product to believe in and no reason to doubt you.”
So far, so good.
They fussed with the site for a while. Some of the changes Michael could make right there, but others he wrote down to fix when he got home. Hopefully, the new site would go live by the weekend.
“This is really great work,” Brand said from his spot behind the desk. Michael circled around to sit in one of the wooden chairs opposite. “I knew hiring you was a good idea.”
Michael laughed. “Glad it’s all working out, boss. And I wanted to tell you that I can be more flexible with my hours now that Dad’s getting more independent. Doesn’t just have to be nine-to-five, weekdays anymore.”
“Yeah? Josiah okay with that?”
“Sure.” They’d briefly discussed it last week as a trio. Dad still needed help getting in and out of the wheelchair and with preparing his meals, but he didn’t need a babysitter (his word) all the time anymore. “The set hours worked for Josiah when he was living with McBride, but now that he’s away from that and close to the house, he says he can work odd hours and weekends if I need him to.”
“That’s good for him, getting that flexibility back.” Brand picked up a coffee mug, stared into it, then put it back down. “He seemed really happy and relaxed at the picnic Saturday.”
“He was.” Michael didn’t want to lie to his boss/friend, but he also didn’t want to spread Josiah’s personal business all over the place. Not that Brand couldn’t have made his own conclusions about Josiah and McBride’s prior relationship based on the night they’d rescued Josiah’s stuff. “Josiah’s happy living on our property. He can breathe there.”
“Good. He deserves that.”
“Yeah, he does.”
“Can you breathe?”
“What?”
“Just an observation from a friend.” Brand leaned back in his chair, hands resting over his stomach. “You seem happier, too, since Josiah came to live with you.”
“He doesn’t live with me, he’s renting our trailer.”
“Uh-huh. You can tell me to mind my own business, but I think Hugo is rubbing off on me, so I’ll just say this—if something makes you happy, hang on to it. It’s usually worth fighting for.”
Michael quirked an eyebrow. “Hugo’s rubbing off, huh?”
“You know what I mean, and way to deflect my point. I tried to push Hugo away because I was scared of what loving him meant for me and for this business, and we almost lost this amazing thing we have.”
“I’m not pushing Josiah away. He’s doing that.” Michael grunted, not liking the hint of bitterness in his voice. “But I understand why. He’s not ready, and we agreed to be friends. I’ll be his friend.”
“He’s lucky to have you.”
“Well, I am a pretty terrific friend.”
Brand burst out laughing. “And so modest.”
“Of course.” He picked at a tiny rip in his faded, work-roughened jeans. “It’s not fair to Josiah to pursue anything, anyway, not when I don’t know my future plans. I don’t know if I’ll still be here in six months, or if life and opportunity will take me someplace else. I couldn’t start something, and then ask him to come with me.”
“Why not? Couples move for employment all the time. It’s not like Weston is his home, or as if he’s got an office here. In-home nursing is in demand pretty much everywhere.”
“True.” Michael hadn’t even considered the idea of Josiah going with him if Michael left Weston for another big city. Probably not Austin again. Too many negative memories now. “Everything is hypothetical anyway. I could stay. I could go. Nothing will happen until I sell that damned house.”
“You do realize that if I got a vote, I’d vote for you to stay put. You’re not only an asset here at the ranch, but I consider you a friend, Michael. And maybe you took this job because it was the best paying one you could find around here, but you’re good at it. Any ranch in the state would be lucky to have you.”
“Thank you.” For all he’d been a reluctant cowboy, Michael did enjoy his job. “Thank you for taking a chance on a rusty city boy. I do love this job, and part of me wants to stick around Weston, but I am the first to admit I love being my own boss. A lot more than I like being someone else’s employee.”
Brand snorted. “I hear you. For all I grumbled about inheriting the ranch after Colt left, I do love being in charge. It’s stressful, sure, because if something fails, it’s on me. But when something goes right? It’s a special kind of pride over the accomplishment. So, you got any ideas on being your own boss again?”
“Less ideas and more like nebulous musings. Dad obviously doesn’t have the acreage he used to, but we still have a decent bit of land. He had a lot of fun talking to kids about his art this weekend, and I can see him teaching a whole new generation about turning rusty junk into something special. Giving kids a place to get out into the open country and just be kids.”
“I didn’t know you liked kids that much.”
Michael shrugged. “I don’t dislike them. Never imagined being a dad myself. There’s just something real about life out here in our small towns. Austin always felt like an illusion to me. Glass and pavement don’t have anything on dirt and manure.”
“You’d rather have manure than a coffee shop on every other corner?”
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation. The more time Michael spent here in his old hometown, the more comfortable he was. The more distanced he felt from the city life he’d once valued and fought for. He wanted to stay. But stay and do what?
“I’d love to hear more about this,” Brand said, “but we’re both on the clock. How about I take you out to the Roost for a beer or two after work? I want to pick your brain.”
“Yeah, sure, let me text Josiah and make sure he’s okay to chill with Dad for a while longer tonight.”
“Do that. If he isn’t, let me know and we can reschedule.”
Josiah would be fine with it. He’d yet to balk at any request Michael made, and he often suspected it was less about the extra pay and more about spending time in the Pearce house. Being part of their family. “I will. Thanks, Brand.”
“Anytime. Now go. Those stalls won’t muck themselves.”
With a mock salute to his boss, Michael stood and left the office, buoyed by the conversation and curious what ideas of his own Brand might bring to the table tonight.
“No, no, maybe over there?”
Josiah bit back a weary sigh as he began to shift the heavy tool chest for the fourth time in about fifteen minutes. He and Elmer had been in the workshop since supper concluded, completing a task they’d begun that afternoon. Elmer was still determined to clean up the space and get rid of excess garbage, but his donate pile had turned into a “save for next year’s picnic” pile. More than just talking about welding and his art, Elmer wanted to demonstrate what he did, and he’d “need spare parts for the kids to waste.”
The wood floor had scratch lines all over from him dragging the tool chest around, and he could kind of track his path around the space. Josiah didn’t mind the work. Despite the dust that made him sneeze every ten minutes or so, he liked the workshop, and he loved listening to Elmer talk about it. Anything that kept his patient active and engaged, rather than sitting on his butt watching TV, was a win in his book.
“How about here?” Josiah smacked the top of the metal toolbox.
Elmer squinted. “That’ll do for now.”
“Oh good. What next?”
“I think I need that bookcase.”
“What bookcase?”
“The one in the horse stall over there.” He waved vaguely down the long corridor that led to the front of the barn. “If we bring it out, I can organize some of that scrap copper and aluminum on it. Can’t use it if I can’t see it.”
And by “we,” he meant Josiah would bring it out. Josiah had no idea which stall had a bookcase in it, so he went searching while Elmer fiddled around with a bucket of random, rusty tool parts. It took a bit of searching to uncover the four-shelf bookcase—how on earth had Elmer remembered the thing was there when it was buried under grain sacks and horse blankets?—and then a lot of huffing and puffing to get the damned thing out of the stall. By the time he wrangled it back into the workshop, Elmer’s face was pinched.
“Hey, are you doing okay?” Josiah asked.
“Yeah, just, uh...” He scowled. “I need to go inside and use the can.”
“Oh, no problem. It’s getting late and a little cold, so why don’t we call it a night? I’ll take you in.”
“Fine, fine.”
Elmer was getting better at handling the wheelchair around the living room, despite still having some grip weakness in his right hand, so Josiah pushed him out of the barn and toward the house.
“You forgot to turn off the damn lights,” Elmer said just as Josiah began to push him up the porch ramp.
“It’s okay. Let’s get you settled first, and then I’ll go back and turn them off.”
Elmer grunted, and Josiah did just that. Once Elmer was situated in the bathroom, Josiah mostly shut the door to give him privacy, then went back outside. The cold night air nipped at his cheeks as he strode across the yard to the big, open barn doors. It never stopped surprising him that Elmer didn’t want the barn doors shut at night, but the property had two bright outdoor lights that probably dissuaded potential thieves from sneaking around.
He stepped inside the barn and reached to the right where four switches controlled the lights from the front all the way to the rear workshop. He slipped the farthest two switches down, casting the back of the barn in darkness. On the dirt floor ahead, a splotch of green caught his attention and Josiah paused. Probably a rag or something that they dropped—only he hadn’t messed with any cleaning rags tonight. He took four long strides toward the fabric and picked it up, curious.
His curiosity shifted into surprise as he shook out a T-shirt with white block lettering that said Kiss Me I’m Irish. Andy had given him a shirt like that a long time ago as a joke, something he’d picked up at a swap meet for cheap. One of the only meaningful things Josiah had kept from that period of his life, and he’d left it behind at Seamus’s house. Well, technically Michael and his friends had left it behind, but Josiah had never bothered to ask anyone to fetch it, assuming Seamus had tossed out anything that his five saviors hadn’t claimed.
With shaking fingers, Josiah checked the left side seam for a familiar—there. The small tear the shirt had come with and Josiah had never bothered stitching back up. Fear turned his stomach to ice. Had Seamus brought this shirt here and left it as...what? A warning? To rattle him? What the hell?
Someone had been inside the barn in the last few minutes, because he knew in his bones the shirt hadn’t been on the ground when he took Elmer into the house. Shirt clutched in his left hand, Josiah slid his right into his back pocket. Fingers brushed his cell phone. He turned. Something dark zoomed at him.
Pain exploded in his face, and he fell.