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“Yeah. Thanks.” Michael ran his hand down Dog’s back. “Things have been going down for a couple of weeks. A lot of it is why I was able to pick up and move here after Dad’s stroke. All I really left behind was an empty house I’m trying to sell.”
“So you aren’t going back to Austin when your dad gets better?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the god’s honest truth. Austin’s got a lot of bad memories now. The one thing I knew when I packed up and drove here was that I needed a change. Can’t say as being a cowboy again was what I dreamed for my life, but this is where I am. I’m grateful for this job and that my dad is alive and getting better.” Dog licked his fingers and Michael rubbed behind her soft ears. “I don’t know if I want to go back or not, just that I need something else right now. Something more real than the life I used to have.”
“Totally get that,” Jackson said. “We’re all here for a reason, man, and they’re our own reasons.” That particular comment raised Michael’s curiosity about his coworker but now wasn’t the time or place to ask. Maybe one night he’d ask Jackson out for a beer so they could chat. Get to know each other. God knew Michael needed friends up here.
“Well, being out here on the land is about as real as things get,” Hugo said. “I moved back here for a fresh start and I got it. Rustling cattle probably isn’t your dream job after working in tech for so long, but it’s honest, hard work. Raising beef so folks can feed their families. Wind power so we can be a little bit kinder to the environment.”
“I do appreciate the work,” Michael replied, still absently stroking Dog’s head and neck. “And the chance to start over. Have my midlife crisis in a safe place.”
Hugo laughed. “Great, you’re already having one? Does that mean Brand is only a few years from his own midlife crisis? Yay, me. What about you, Jackson?”
Jackson smiled and rolled his shoulders. “Had mine a while ago. Why do you think I ended up here?”
“No idea, because you won’t tell me.”
“Nope.”
The exchange only amped up Michael’s curiosity about Jackson, but if the guy was this tight-lipped over his past, Michael was unlikely to ever get that story. Sometimes the past needed to stay in the past. Like Kenny. He really ought to block the asshole’s number, but right now Kenny was his only lead to Rosco. And if Kenny couldn’t be damned to keep him because of a new lover, then Michael very much wanted his dog back.
“There are definitely worse places to have a crisis,” Michael said. “But we’re probably all inching close to starting our days late and should get to work.”
“Good point,” Hugo replied. “Work now, gossip later.”
“Dating the boss doesn’t have extra perks?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t like to press my luck. I get a paycheck just like the rest of you guys.”
“And you love your boyfriend too much to take advantage?”
“Exactly.”
Today’s schedule had Michael and Jackson out riding the fence line, watching the herd, and checking for any repairs or lost cattle. Dog followed along at a steady gait, and Michael enjoyed the chance to be out in the open lands of the ranch, distanced from the things that still niggled at the back of his mind, like Josiah that morning. Something was off and a small part of Michael worried it had something to do with last night.
They returned to the barn around lunchtime. Brand surprised them all by bringing half a pan of hot lasagna out from the main house, leftovers from last night’s supper. Apparently, Rose had planned the meal before she realized Brand and Hugo wouldn’t be home to help eat it, so they got the treat today. The spicy scent appealed to Michael way more than his simple sandwich, even though a gut full of pasta would make him want to take a nap right afterward.
Brand served up big slabs on paper plates. Michael had just fetched his soda from the fridge when his cell began blaring the theme forThe Munsters, which he’d programmed for Dad’s house line years ago. Weird. The phone was in reach of Dad’s hospital bed, but there was no reason for Dad to be calling him. The one time Josiah had called during work hours with a question, he’d done so on his own cell phone.
Curious and slightly alarmed, Michael answered, “Hello?”
“Good, you picked up,” Dad said, sounding somewhat out of breath. “Something ain’t right with Josiah. I think you need to come home.”
“What?” He put his soda can on the table a little too hard, only vaguely aware of the other three men in the small break room staring at him. “What’s wrong?”
“Not quite sure. He went into the kitchen to get lunch started and then I heard heavy breathing. Pretty sure he’s sitting on the floor now, ’cuz I can kinda see his feet from here, but he won’t answer when I yell.”
“Okay, I’m coming home. Just... I don’t know, keep trying to talk to him.”
“I can do that.”
Michael ended the call. “Brand—”
“Go,” Brand said. “You can tell me later.”
“Thanks.” He bolted outside to his car, glad he’d gotten in the habit of leaving his keys on the driver’s seat, because it was one less thing to worry about finding. He tried not to speed too fast down the lane from the ranch to the state road. Dad had sounded safe enough, but something was definitely wrong with Josiah, and Michael needed to get there so he could fix it.
He couldn’t fix a problem over the phone. It needed to be right in front of him. The great thing about computers and programming was his innate understanding of numbers. Michael didn’t have that same understanding when it came to people. His people skills often boiled down to “talk them into it even if they aren’t interested” and “don’t let them cry in front of me—I can’t handle tears.”
