“D addy!” Quartz’s voice rang out as Stoney stomped the mud off his boots. He’d been out with that early hunting party for the last three days, and he was filthy, exhausted, and cold down to the bone. When had early October gotten so cold?
Still, he could no more resist that happy cry now than he ever could. “Hey, buddy boy. How goes it?”
“Good! I made my roller coaster! Wanna see?”
“Of course I do. Let me get my jacket off. Did it snow here at the house? It sprinkled on me up on the mountain.”
“No.” Quartz wrinkled his nose. “It just rained, and I couldn’t ride.”
“That’s no fun, man. Tell me about your roller coaster.” He could listen and get clean at the same time.
“It has three loop-de-loops!” Quartz chattered at him, bouncing.
“Three? Man, that’s intense.” He turned on the shower and got the steam billowing out.
“It is! Then you go up a hill and twist coming down like a helix thingee.”
“What did you fabricate it out of?” Oh. Hot water. Thank God. Soap.
“I used some of your old Erector Set and some pieces of scrap stuff Geoff gave me from the garden fencing and—he’s making meatloaf tonight. Can you stop him?”
“I can’t, but I bet that Geoff remembers that meatloaf is your least favorite ever and has an alternative.” He’d bet Geoff would, in fact, never forget the reaction six-year old Quartz had.
“Oh. Okay.” Quartz brightened. “Maybe a sloppy joe!”
“Maybe. Maybe a peanut butter sandwich, though, because he cooked already, right?”
Quartz handled disappointment less than well.
“Okay. Maybe with his strawberry jam.”
“He always has that.” Geoff canned. A lot. Like, as in him and Ty had built on a pantry room. A room.
The jam and jelly room with a shelf for pickles and one for tomatoes. There were two upright freezers for corn and green chiles and more.
“We eat pretty good, huh?” Stoney said, ruffling Quartz’s hair.
“Yeah. Except for meatloaf.”
“Right. Except for meatloaf.” The kid was obsessed. Stoney got it. He loathed liver and onions. Too bad Geoff was obsessed with finding a meatloaf Quartz would eat.
A guy had to live with a kid 24-7 before he understood that some battles weren’t worth fighting. “Hand me my shirt, bud.”
“Yes, sir. I’m glad you’re home, Daddy.”
“Lord, son. Me too. My ass is getting too old for this shit.”
“Is the rest of you old too?”
“Some parts are more used up than others, that’s for sure.” No shit on that. He hadn’t gotten laid in eight years. Those parts were still under fucking warranty.
“I think you’re cool, Daddy.”
Oh. Well, that was good to hear. “Thank you. I think you’re pretty damn spiffy yourself. Come on. I need to see this roller coaster.”
“Yes!” Quartz led him to their sitting room. “Ta-da!”
The thing was stunning—a Frankensteiny mishmash of a zillion scrapped parts, half a dozen motorized gizmos and a metric fuckton of old Christmas lights that took up the front room floor.
Stoney was in love. He clapped. “Oh, man. Look at this!”
Quartz beamed, then glanced at the clock. “I can show you how it works after supper. I bet you’re hungry.”
“Uh-huh. Still. Just once, huh? One quick run?”
“Woo!” Quartz grabbed a train set remote and flicked a switch. The tiny train cars started up the hill, climbing with rattles and shudders, but climbing nonetheless.
Stoney made all kinds of mental notes for later, but he always kept his mouth shut on the first run.
The first runs of one of his brilliant boy’s inventions were to enjoy and just go with the shock and awe. The practical parts would come later.
Stoney cheered when the car made all the loops and ended on the helix. “High five!”
Quartz squealed and slapped his hand, pride just glowing from his boy. “It worked!”
“Totally. It totally works. You rock, son. Swear to God.”
“Thanks, Daddy!” Quartz hugged him, the move spontaneous enough to make Stoney’s eyes burn. “Do you think Geoff made pie?”
“Maybe meatloaf pie!”
Quartz made gagging noises, but that was it. No fits, no panic—just kid reactions. Excellent. Maybe it was like the doctors had said and it would start to get easier now that he was getting older. Stoney had never worked so hard at not losing his temper as he had when he became a daddy. Most of the time he managed. Most of the time.
He stood, stretching. Okay, supper. Then collapsing on the couch with a nice NCIS marathon.
They headed to the main kitchen, the smell of meatloaf filling the air and making Stoney’s belly rumble. He’d never tell Quartz, but Geoff’s meatloaf made him super happy.
“Boss!” Geoff winked. “Didn’t expect you back. Looks like you’ll have to eat Quartz’s meatloaf and he can have something else.”
“I am so totally in.” He moved in to give Geoff a man hug, but Geoff wouldn’t have it, hugging him like they were best friends who hadn’t seen each other in a coon’s age.
Quartz poked him.
“Ow. So, what does Quartz eat, then, buddy?”
“I made him sloppy joes. Is that cool?”
Quartz’s crow proved that someone was off the kid’s shit list.
“I think he approves.” Stoney chuckled. “What can we do?”
“Quartz, can you pull out the salad dressings? You get you a cup of coffee, boss. You look like you could use it.”
“Thanks.” He desperately needed a boost if he was going to make it through supper. The hunting party hadn’t been bad, but the heavy clouds and the mud and the constant snoring from three guys who hadn’t bathed in days wore at him.
“Hey, guys.” Angie wandered in, her hat in hand. “Man, it’s wet.”
“Gonna snow tonight, I can feel it in my bones.”
“Yeah?” She snorted. “Your old-old bones.”
“Hush, you old broad. Who else is coming for supper?”
“My wife. Leon. Abner.”
“The farrier?” Stoney chuckled. The meatloaf brought folks out of the woodwork.
“There’s German chocolate cake for dessert, man.”
“Oh God. No wonder everyone is coming.” Geoff’s cake kept him going in the darkest of times.
“The more the merrier.” Geoff grinned. The man just loved to feed people, even if he wouldn’t eat his own meatloaf.
Could you make a tofu loaf?
Oh, God. That sounded like ketchup-covered hell. He tried not to gag, because Geoff would get all offended.
Angie got out the cutlery, he grabbed plates, and Geoff started bringing food to the big old table.
The kitchen door banged open just about the time he was about to say grace, Ford blowing in like a stiff arctic wind. “God, it smells good in here.”
“It’s time for grace, Uncle Ford. Sit down.” Ah, his direct boy.
“Gotcha.” Ford seemed like he was in a fine mood, grinning at one and all, even Stoney.
“Dear Lord, bless the food, the ranch, and all the cowboys, big and small.” He glanced at Quartz, who always had a special request.
“And all the horses, especially Mousey who has a hurt hoof.”
“And all the horses, especially Mousey. In Jesus’ name we pray.”
They all nodded. “Amen.”
They dug in, everyone humming at the mushroom gravy flavor of the meatloaf. No sad ketchup shit here. The sloppy joes were a hit with Quartz, and no one pointed out that Geoff was eating them too, so they must be vegan crumbles. Sloppy falafels?
Whatever. He wasn’t going to be all “you must eat all the meat” and shit on his boy, because, well, he guessed because that was his dad in a nutshell, and also he didn’t run cattle, so it wasn’t like that was the food in abundance.
That would be venison and elk, both of which Quartz ate fairly easily.
“You look as tickled as a man with a feather up his butt,” Geoff told Ford.
“I am. I renewed the BLM lease today.”
Everyone went quiet for a long second, then the cheering started, the congratulations. Man, this crew could make some noise.
“Oh man, you’re our hero!” Angie gushed, slapping Ford on the back, and Stoney bit back the urge to snarl.
Fact was, he hadn’t managed it. If he had, Ty wouldn’t have brought Ford in, so it was only fair to give the man his due.
Would have been nice to know before the rest of the staff, maybe, but whatever.
Ford glanced at him, smile fading a bit. “Thanks. That last meeting today did it, but they grilled me like a sirloin.”
“Well, that’s why Ty brought you in, right? You’re the man for the job.” Geoff beamed. “You get to pick supper tomorrow night, man, for saving all our bacon.”
“Daddy?” Quartz looked up at him. “Is everything okay?”
“Huh? Sure it is. That’s just what we wanted to happen. Now we can get back to working.”
“Oh, good.” Quartz nodded, and Stoney forced a wide grin. His kid was so frickin’ good at gauging his mood.
“If you have time tomorrow, Stoney, we can meet, and I can fill you in.”
“Sure, man. Just tell me when you want me. I’ll be around.” There was no way on earth he was going to be within earshot of Ford Nixel tomorrow. No fucking way. He was going to go find something impossible and physical that would keep him busy and out of trouble.
Right now he was so mad—mostly at himself, if he was going to be honest, and he tended toward that—that he could smack Ford right in the face.
Ford stared him down, as if the man knew exactly what he was thinking. “We’ll make it seven so I can catch you before you head out.”
Fucker.
“Sure, boss. No sweat.” Maybe Ford could give him a list of duties too. Muck out the stables. Haul the dirties to the laundry room. Oh, maybe even worm the horses. That would be a good job for him. Something nice and easy.
Geoff and Angie watched them like a tennis match, and the others tucked in to their food, heads down.
Ford just shook his head, grabbing his plate. “Well, I just wanted to tell everyone. I’ve got a bunch of reports to finish up in the office. Thanks for supper, Geoff.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, man. This is your motherfucking ranch; quit acting like it’s not and sit down and eat your goddamn food with the staff like a decent human being.”
“Daddy!”
He shot Quartz a look, and to his son’s credit, he knew to shut up and eat his supper.
“Half mine,” Ford said, putting on what Stoney always thought of as his lawyer face. He’d had it in college too. “I’m well aware that you wish it were otherwise, but I’m doing the best I can, given the circumstances.”
He didn’t respond with anything more than a stare. He knew that nothing pissed Ford off more than silence. The man could argue his way out of anything, but if Stoney didn’t give him ammunition, Ford was firing blanks.
That meant the bastard had to be a lot closer to do damage.
“Guys. Guys, wow. Intense. That’s rough on digestion.” Geoff, the eternal peacekeeper, offered Ford a grin. “Come sit. I have the world’s best cake dialed up.”
Ford sat, nibbling at his supper, head held high. Stoney wasn’t backing down, though. This was his place too, and Quartz needed to see he was willing to work for it.
God, he was so fucking wore that he didn’t have his own head on straight. The nights of sitting up against a pine tree with a knife and a piece of wood that was either going to be a Christmas tree or a rocket ship were catching up with him.
Geoff patted his leg under the table, and he had to smile. Their Geoff did hate strife.
Quartz ate quickly, shoveling the food in. “Can I have cake soon, Daddy? The roller coaster is waiting.”
“When Geoff serves it, yep.” He managed to eat about a quarter of his meatloaf, but that was it. He’d warm it up for breakfast. Maybe even a late-night snack.
“Cake it is.” Geoff took a huge load of dishes away with him, then came back with a cake stand. “Quartz, buddy, can you get the dessert plates?”
“Yes, sir.” Quartz hopped up and Stoney tried to see if he could find his future in the dregs of a cup of coffee.
Angie kicked him. Hard. When his head snapped up, she winked at him. Evil woman.
He made sure Quartz couldn’t see him, and then he flipped her off, making the motion slow and deliberate.
She hooted with laughter, drawing a stare from Ford. Who she stuck her tongue out at. “Christ. You boys are thick.”
“I will take you to the woodshed, woman,” Stoney said.
“I’d be the one that left, though, Skeletor.” Angie didn’t even pretend to look sad.
Ford surprised him by chuckling, the sound rusty as all get-out. “No one told me ranch life was like high school as an adult.”
“Shit, man. Everything is like high school. Didn’t they teach you that in law school?” Hetty’s voice was dry as dust and twice as raspy.
“Nope. Unless I fell asleep between torts and contract law and it was there.”
“What the ever loving fuck is a tort? Isn’t that a cake?” Angie was totally willing to be the voice of redneckedness.
“No, dork. It’s a civil legal wrongdoing that doesn’t cover contracts.” When everyone stared, Geoff shrugged. “What? I read things.”
“Liar. You saw it on Law and Order .” God knew he and Geoff had had more than their fair share of Netflix-a-thons.
“TV, reading, six of one,” Geoff said, grinning over at him.
Ford rolled his eyes. “So useful, those law shows.”
Stoney could get that. Some of the “cowboy” shit he saw made him want to spit nails. Angie read these crazy cowboy books by some chick from New York City. Aloud. At staff meetings.
Like any cowboy worth his salt had time to wax poetic about shit. Fuck that. Romance was cleaning the manure off your boots before you came inside, paying the electric bill on time, and making sure your kid brushed his goddamn teeth.
Ford was laughing at something Doc said, and Stoney took the chance to look a little. He didn’t think Ford cracked up like that much. Of course, Doc had been here way longer than he had. Possibly longer than the mountains had been.
Shame. It was a good look on the man.
Ford caught his eye, the smile staying in place this time, and Stoney found himself grinning a bit in return. Huh .
That was probably a bad fucking idea. The last thing Stoney needed was Ford knowing there was a torch that might still burn some. It did, late at night when it was just him and his hand, but Ford could butt right out on that.
The cake went down easier than supper, though, didn’t it? Geoff was a king among men.
He grabbed another huge cup of coffee and his leftovers for the morning. The conversation sounded like road noise. “You ready, son?”
“Yessir.” Quartz hopped up and took his plate to the sink.
“Y’all have a good one.”
“Night.” The chorus of good nights sounded, echoed by Ford, who watched him closely.
“Night. Come on, Quartz.”
The hallway seemed longer than ever.