STETSON GOT up at four, bundled up, and headed out to feed. There was snow on the air, and the wind felt like an old enemy, slapping at his face. This time of year in Taos could be bleak when a man wasn’t already down.
It was okay, though. Curtis could stay sleeping for a few hours, then come down to Santa Fe and see Momma. Then maybe Stetson would just suck it up and drive back out here again tonight.
A little voice in the back of his head said, And then what? Sleep next to him for another night before he goes back to a life that doesn’t have a broke-dick cowboy in it?
And yeah, that was it. That was sorta it, balls to bones.
There was nothing left. He was gonna lose the horses, the menagerie, the land, the house. His truck was paid off, the trailer, so he was gonna hold out ’til spring, then take the horse trailer up deep into the mountains and stay there until….
Hell, he didn’t have an until.
He had right now, tomorrow, when Curtis left to go back to real life, and then until Momma passed.
That was it.
“So if I want to lay next to Curtis for another night, you can go fuck yourself.” He didn’t know if his little voice was listening, but he reckoned it didn’t have a choice.
He got himself into the barn, latched the door, and slapped his hands together to warm them. “Hey, y’all.”
Smokey nosed over the top of the stall, the gelding not liking being trapped in there. He was laid up, though, one hoof cracked all to hell. Had to keep the old boy contained. “Hey, buddy. Who the hell am I going to get to take you on, huh?”
He gave scritches, then sighed and opened the stall door, pushing Smokey back. “I need to give you a look, now. Be nice.”
Smokey would stand for him but hated to have his feet touched on a good day. The farrier always had to duck around this old man. He turned to press his butt against Smokey’s side, then slid his hands down that long leg, giving plenty of warning.
“You kick me and I’m gonna be pissed, old man, you hear me? I need to make sure your hoof is better.” That and make sure there wasn’t any stench coming from it. He’d been babying Smokey along.
Head bobbing up and down, Smokey let him have a look. Not bad. Better than he’d feared, but he really needed to get out there every day. The guys he had feeding were great, but Smokey was a fricking challenge.
“You’re healing. I approve. And for not stomping my brains into oatmeal? You get sweet feed.” He hummed, letting everything else slide away for a while. The animals didn’t care nothin’ about money or ex-lovers or anything else. They needed what they needed, which was food, water, and care.
Simple shit.
Good shit.
He stopped by Barney’s stall, the poor old guy too old to be out in the cold now, and damn near blind, to boot. Stetson scratched his nose, watching those fuzzy ears swivel back and forth. “Hey, shortie. How you doing today? Maybe I should clip you to a lead and take you for a walk, huh?”
Barney whinnied at him, coming right to him, head pushing into his hands. His hands knew just where to scratch, just how to soothe. What was he going to do? Send Barney to be dog food? Shoot him and let him rot? He rested his forehead on Barney’s. “I don’t know how to fix this. I’m so fucking scared, guys.”
Barney lipped at his hand, demanding his treat. Spoiled rotten beast. He gave Barney a scant handful of feed. “There you go, huh? I swear, if I could find you another home, I would, but no one around here is any better off.”
And no one would thank him for an old pony that hadn’t been any good for anything since Daddy had brought him home for his fifth birthday.
Well, that wasn’t true. That ornery pie-eyed paint had taught Stetson what being thrown felt like. Every single time he’d tried to get Barney to cross the cattle guard out on their ranch road, Barney tossed his ass to the dirt and trotted back to the barn.
Still, every time it had happened, Momma and Daddy had shaken their collective heads and told him to cowboy up and get back on.
Every single time he’d saddled up again, ridden, then brushed and fed and watered and checked hooves, because that was the cowboy way. God gave them critters; they took care of them.
“You want that walk, Barney?” He grabbed a lead to clip to Barney’s halter. Sure enough, that tail swished and Barney backed up, waiting for him to open the stall door. “I got you, buddy. I won’t steer you wrong.”
One way or the other, he would figure this out. He would. He had to.
They headed out to the pasture. “Cowboy up or get in the truck, right, Barn?”
Barney’s whinny cut through the morning like an air horn. Stetson actually smiled. Right. Ponies didn’t give a shit about taxes or losing the land your mom’s family had owned for four generations and your daddy expanded to something amazing.
They cared about fresh air and carrots and sweet feed. And other horses.
They sure as shit didn’t care about the old cowboy that showed up with said sweet feed, who was losing his momma and his mind. Oh, that was funny, except not.
They took two turns around the fenced-off pasture, Barney eager, not even stumbling once. What a good boy. Stetson turned him back toward the barn, but he didn’t balk, just followed Stetson right on back to where it was warm.
Good, Stetson wasn’t sure he was up to a fight this morning.
What he was in the mood for now was going to check in on Curtis…. Yeah. He stabled Barney and rubbed him down before checking in on a few more of the older horses. Then he wanted home.
By the time he headed back to the house, he was feeling like himself, and he held on to the thought, knowing it wouldn’t last farther than his driveway. The moment he went inside and saw his mom’s empty kitchen and Curtis’s go bag on the floor… well, he’d be pissing off those voices again.
That was okay. He’d take what he could get.
Stetson laughed, a low, raw sound, when he saw Curtis still in his bed, wrapped around his pillow. Christ, the man was beautiful. Dark brown hair curled a little long over forehead and nape, and those bright blue eyes were closed, hidden by dark lashes most women called unfair.
He was going to go to his grave loving this man.
Okay. He needed to get headed down to Santa Fe. Shower. Cereal. Driving. That was his life, after all. These days.
He took one more long look, and then he got moving and got out of there. Momma was waiting on him.