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"Are you my muscle for the day?" Michael Whittaker called, striding out of the barn and heading toward him leisurely. He was a large, no-nonsense man of middling years who looked like he'd walked out of an old-timey Marlboro ad. Whit hadn't moved to Sweetwater until after the accident, so they'd never had much reason to interact, but something about him reminded Seth of his father.
"That's me," Seth said, adjusting his gloves before clasping Whit's hand in a firm shake. "Aiden's tied up, so I offered to pitch in however I can."
"Appreciate it," Whit said, his grip firm and steady. "Let's get to it, then. We've got a lot of ground to cover before this storm hits."
Seth hadn't been exaggerating when he'd told Aiden the backhoe would be like a vacation compared to his usual backbreaking days. The machine was a beast, but nothing he hadn't tamed dozens of times before. He maneuvered the equipment with practiced ease, breaking through the frozen ground precisely where Whit instructed and relishing the satisfying crunch. He thrived on this kind of work: straightforward, challenging, and necessary. Every now and then, Seth cast a glance toward the approaching storm. If they were lucky, it wouldn't hit until the pit was filled. Otherwise, more pipes were likely to burst from exposure.
A few ranch hands lingered nearby, leaning against the corral and conversing in low voices while they watched him work.
"I'm not paying y'all to gape," Whit barked. "Unless you want to be the one I send into the pit with the soldering iron, get back to work!"
"Strangers are the best entertainment for a cowboy," Seth called down from the Cat once he killed the engine. "I'm used to it."
"You're not much of a stranger," Whit said, offering him a hand as he climbed down.
Seth shrugged. "Might as well be. I've been persona non grata for a long time. Doesn't matter if I went to school with half of 'em."
Whit grunted thoughtfully and passed him a thermos.
"Thanks," Seth said, cracking the lid and taking a grateful sip. A curl of steam and the rich scent of dark roast filled his nose.
"I wasn't around back when that nasty business hit your place," Whit said idly, staring down into the icy, muddy slush of the pit. "But I know how people like to work themselves into a tizzy. It always calms down once something new catches their attention. I don't think any of them think poorly of you now."
Seth didn't reply. He merely sipped his coffee and squinted at the black specks of cattle in the distance. "You've got a nice-looking herd," he complimented. "All Angus?"
"That's right," Whit said, gazing out at the snow-covered pastures. The wind picked up, carrying a hint of ice, and he narrowed his eyes against the lash. "Three hundred head, but I want to double my breeding program in the spring. Aiden says you've got some handsome bulls at the Double Jay."
"A couple Charalois and Hereford crosses," Seth acknowledged, unable to keep the pride out of his voice. "Cost me an arm and a leg to fetch 'em from Colorado, but they'll be worth it someday."
"Strong genetics," Whit said, giving a low whistle between his teeth. "You ever consider a breeding arrangement?"
Seth couldn't hold back his laughter. "Not with anyone west of Boise. No one around here would trust the health of my stock."
"That's what a vet inspection is for," Whit scoffed. "Besides, I've driven by the Double Jay enough times. Any fool with eyes can see those cattle are healthy and happy. You run a tight operation, and that ain't easy when you're doing it all solo."
"My dad always taught me not to rely on others."
"Wise man," Whit said, smiling grimly, "but no man's an island. Especially in these parts. Farming communities are close for a reason—so we've got folks to turn to when we need a hand."
"Maybe," Seth acknowledged. It felt like a message he'd been hearing a lot these days; Aiden and Tessa were blue in the face from repeating the same thing. Maybe it was time he started listening, for their sake, if nothing else. If Aiden planned on moving into the Double Jay, Seth would need to make peace with being sociable again. He added, "If you're really interested in renting out my bulls, I'm open to it."
"Good." Whit clapped him roughly on the shoulder, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "We'll discuss the details later once these bozos are finished fixing the leak. Why don't you climb back up on the Cat and get ready to fill?"
"How's the saddle working for you, Seth?" West called, strolling up to them with Calvin Craig at his side. His grin was good-natured and welcoming. "It sure was a beauty."
"Best ride I've had in years," Seth replied, wiping his brow with the back of one wrist. He was sweating despite the heavy air and plunging temperature.
"That's not what I hear," Cal interjected, tipping his hat back on his head and grinning hugely. "You should've known better than to mess around with a loudmouth like Aiden."
"I don't blame him," Celia said with a cheerful laugh that reminded Seth of a warbler’s trill. "Aiden Doyle blows so much hot air, it's probably the only thing keeping them warm up on that godforsaken mountain."
"You're not wrong," Seth said with a chuckle, unbothered by the teasing. He was a private man, but if Aiden wanted to share their relationship with his friends, he wouldn't complain. Earning the love of a big-hearted man like Aiden was something that would always make him proud.
Once, he'd thought keeping the Double Jay alive was his greatest accomplishment, but not anymore. Picking Aiden up on the side of the road when he was seventeen years old would always be the best decision he'd ever made. "He makes it worth my while," he said fondly.
Cal lifted one skeptical eyebrow and drawled, "If you say so. Just make sure to stock up on tranquilizers and a good lasso."
"Sounds like a normal Friday night with my ex," Celia quipped.
