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Michael’s first full week working at Woods Ranch improved by miles after his first two days. A lot of old riding and roping skills came back to him, and while he still struggled a bit with driving the herd from one pasture to another without the help of Brutus and Dog, he found himself enjoying the work. He was outside in the brilliant autumn sunshine, he liked all his coworkers, and he no longer went home sore and achy and in need of a soak.
All wins in his book.
His favorite, and most unexpected, thing was how easy and open Brand and Hugo were about their relationship, considering how conservative their county was in general. It gave Michael the courage to talk more openly about his own sexuality and some of the years of his misspent youth. The only thing he didn’t expand on ever was his reasons for leaving Austin. Kenny and Rosco were still too raw.
Especially Rosco. But Dog reminded Michael a bit of Rosco in her temperament, and Jackson didn’t seem to mind sharing his pet’s attention with the other hands.
Dad’s recovery seemed to be going well. He had nothing but praise for Josiah when the young nurse left for the night, and Michael began to anticipate their brief interactions twice a day, five days a week. Simple good mornings and heartier goodbyes. Hearing about Dad’s exercises. Dad still had some issues with swallowing, and that was something that would either improve or carry on for the rest of his life.
Only time would tell about pretty much everything, and Michael had time to kill. His Realtor in Austin had no real bites on the house yet, but Michael refused to lower the asking price this soon. If he simply wanted to off-load it, he could drop it by a few hundred grand, but it was all Michael had. No trademarked app, no contracts, no royalties, nothing but that damned house. If this was his only legacy for fifteen years of work, Michael wanted to squeeze out every penny he could, so he could figure out what came next. Beyond working the ranch and caring for his dad.
What was his next big dream?
No idea, and since he didn’t have the money to dream right now, Michael worked his ass off and stuck to the real world.
On his second Thursday in town, to celebrate one full week of Michael being a Woods Ranch employee, Brand and Hugo insisted on taking Michael out for a drink. After a quick call to Josiah, who insisted he could stay an extra hour, Michael agreed to the drink. He met the pair at the Roost. Ramie called out a greeting to their trio from behind the bar. Brand led them to a table in the back and a perky young waitress with frizzy red hair came over to take their order.
“Pitcher of Bud,” Brand said, “and how about a platter of nachos, too?”
“Sounds good,” Michael replied. He’d worked his ass off this past week and deserved to splurge some of his hard-earned money on beer and junk food.
Their waitress brought three cold glasses and a pitcher of beer to the table with a promise that the nachos would be out shortly. Brand poured them all beer and they toasted Michael’s first week. Michael was more of a cocktail guy nowadays, but he appreciated the simplicity of a cold, yeasty beer with coworkers. So different from the fancy, expensive drinks he and his old friends would order at the best hotel restaurants or clubs, simply to seem sophisticated and show off their money.
It all seemed so stupid now. None of those friends had called in the last few weeks. None of those relationships had been real. Not even his partnership with Kenny. That had been the biggest lie of all.
No more relationships. Not for a long while.
Maybe once he got his shit together, got Dad on his feet, and figured out where he wanted to land, he’d adopt a new dog.
Maybe.
A few townies gave their trio odd looks, but Michael was used to them, and he had a gut feeling Brand and Hugo had gotten used to them, too, as—he assumed—the only openly gay couple in Weston. But Michael had been in more than one brawl as a teen, and he wasn’t about to take any disrespect from closed-minded idiots.
“So you don’t talk about yourself much at work,” Hugo said, once they’d each sipped their beers. “All I know about you is you live in Austin and develop apps. And you seem to really like PB&J sandwiches for lunch.”
Michael chuckled. “They’re easy lunch food. I’m not much of a cook and never have been, so my kitchen motto is KISS.”
“Kiss?”
“Keep it simple, stupid.”
“Oh.” Hugo laughed. “Makes sense. I’m not much of a cook, either. I mostly survive on sandwiches, leftovers from Rose’s kitchen, or whatever Brand manages to whip up at our place.” Rose was Brand’s mother, and Michael vaguely recalled the woman entering a lot of baking competitions at both the county fair and Founder’s Day Picnic. And winning ribbons.
“Sounds like my basic diet right now,” Michael replied. “Protein bar for breakfast, sandwich for lunch, and whatever Josiah throws in the oven for dinner. Except for my days off, but we usually have leftovers to get by on.”
“Is Josiah a good cook? We text a bit here and there, but I don’t really know him all that well.”
“Sure, he’s a simple cook but the food is always great. Dad really enjoys it, too. I’m sure after living alone for so long, he’s probably grateful to have someone else cooking for him for a change.”
“No doubt,” Brand said, adding to the conversation for the first time. “Your old man’s good people but I bet he gets lonely puttering around on that property alone. I’m a little surprised he hasn’t rented out his fifth wheel again yet, just for the company.”
Michael wiped a bit of condensation off the side of his glass. “He’s probably still a little gun-shy after the whole robbery incident this summer.” Before Hugo could bristle, Michael added, “And he knows you didn’t do it, and that Buck is back in prison, but things like that can spook a person.” He couldn’t believe he was defending his dad to other people but there they were.
A few months ago, Dad had come home to find a collection of vintage coins missing, and he’d called the sheriff. McBride had found the coins in the trailer Hugo had been renting from Dad, which was situated on his property. While Hugo insisted he hadn’t taken them—who would be stupid enough to steal and keep the goods on the same property as the theft?—Dad had asked Hugo to move out. In a surprising plot twist, Hugo’s crazy stepbrother had stolen the coins and put them in Hugo’s trailer to frame Hugo and destroy his life. And it had almost worked.
But the Woods clan had rallied behind Hugo, Buck Archer eventually confessed to planting the coins, and Hugo was officially exonerated. It hadn’t completely fixed Hugo’s tarnished reputation, but it had been a start. All gossip courtesy of one night when Dad couldn’t sleep or stop yakking.
“It’s understandable,” Hugo said. “Elmer being spooked about renting again. Plus, it isn’t as if there’s a plethora of folks moving to Weston looking for a place to stay.”
