Chapter Seven #2
Hanley nodded. He was tired too. They ambled off to the goat barn. I never thought to ask who had done chores today, but I hoped Dahn had pitched in to help. I turned to look at Ollie staring up at the night sky as more and more stars appeared as the lingering rain clouds left.
“Do you need a sleeping bag?”
“I’m not staying. I have a lot of work yet.”
“Ollie, you look done in. Can’t you grab a few hours? I’ll let you use one of Baker’s old scout sleeping bags.” I held out said green checkered bag.
“That’s very kind, but my work isn’t done until everyone in my county is safe.
Thank you for worrying about me. It’s been ages since I had someone who wasn’t family concerned about me.
” He placed his lips on mine. I leaned into the kiss, wanting more, needing more, but knowing that he had no more to give at the moment.
Also, there was a sleeping bag keeping us apart.
“Go get some sleep. And thank you for the help today. You Bastians aren’t too bad. ”
“We’re growing on you.”
“A certain Bastian is.” He rubbed his nose over mine, sighed, and straightened. “Lunch on Monday?”
“You bet.”
“Here’s hoping.” He stole another kiss, turned, and shook each man’s hand, thanking them for their help before tipping his hat to me still on the porch.
The lawman walked down to the yard, the lawn squelching under his shoes.
I padded out to join my brothers standing under a now clear sky.
We watched the Jeep with the shiny star pull away.
“So, you kissed Ollie,” Baker commented as he stared skyward, a sleeping roll under his left arm. I looked at the rest of the men. Each one was enraptured with the heavens, it seemed, but wearing small smirks. Assholes.
“Yep, and I plan to do it again.” I walked off, and they fell in behind me, taking up a rendition of Eric Clapton’s “I Shot the Sheriff” but substituting shot with kissed.
My siblings and their sig others were assholes, but I did have to give them credit. It was kind of funny. They followed me to the goat barn to bunk down. The goats were happy to see us and blatted for some treats. Sadly, we’d not brought any animal crackers.
I’d thought I would toss and turn with no soft mattress under me but slogging through a torrential rain for umpteen hundred hours wore a man out. I was asleep before my head hit my hay-stuffed feedbag.
***
Perhaps out of respect for her guests, Granny did not get her gun today.
Sure, the rooster crowed a few feet from my head, and the goat buck snuffled at my ass trying to eat my sleeping bag, but there were no gunshots.
Blinking to consciousness with a stiff back and a ferocious need to piss, I slowly sat up.
And came eyeball to funky eyeball with Willy, our big red-and-white buck.
He made floppy lip noises at me. His breath was atrocious.
“I think he wants a kiss,” Lincoln commented at my right, his big body stuffed into a sleeping bag that seemed about a foot too small for him.
The man looked like one of those hot dogs wrapped in a crescent roll, but all of the wiener was sticking out of one end.
I flipped him off. He laughed long and boisterously as he always did.
The other two comedians stirred to life, blinking awake as they tried to sort things out mentally before recognition settled on their faces.
The only one who seemed not to be out of place was Hanley, who was softly snoring, curled around Baker or curled as well as a man in a bag could curl.
“Willy probably saw you sucking face with Ollie and felt left out,” Baker commented while his boyfriend snorted awake momentarily.
Baker, in a move incredibly unlike him, brushed the back of his fingers along Hanley’s scruffy cheek.
It was a simple yet beautiful gesture of utter devotion.
I so longed for something strong like they had.
I sat up, gave the entire barn two middle fingers, and freed myself from the sleeping bag. The others snickered like the trio of idiots that they were. I knelt down to tidy up my bed, which was really just soft hay and a sleeping bag that smelled of mothballs and mouse urine.
“Titter all you want, but at least I’m kissing a handsome man,” I huffed, rolling my bag into a tight little bundle. I threw a look at Ford and Linc. “Who are you two kissing, other than goats and that tree you talk to when you’re meditating behind the boutique?”
Baker snorted in amusement. Ford and Linc scowled. “I only kiss the goats on the head,” Ford replied quietly. Baker laughed even louder.
“Just for your information,” Linc snapped in that slightly whiny—to my California-raised ears—Chicago accent of his.
“I don’t kiss the tree. What I do is say a couple, two, three mantras seeking peace from Mother Nature, then I place my brow to the bark of the tree so its aura flows into me, so you can kindly fuck all the way off. ”
That one broke Baker. Hanley sniffled a bit, rolled onto his back, and yawned. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing, babe, just my brothers talking about having erotic moments with trees and goats,” Baker managed to cough out between guffaws.
“Oh, nothing wrong with being one with nature. Or the cops. Bet you never get a speeding ticket in Bastian Grange,” Hanley said with a wink at me.
“You too, huh?” I asked and got a snigger of amusement from the foursome of twits.
“Fine. I’m going to step outside to urinate and then go eat.
You four snickering dolts can lie here amid the nanny berries and chicken shit.
” Brewster crowed in my face from his perch atop a heavy pen panel.
I pointed a finger at the large rooster.
“Don’t get too cocky. I do know how to make chicken soup. ”
With that, I exited with a stiff back and a lot of grace for a man with hay in his hair.
Sneaking behind the barn, I juggled my sleeping bag and somehow managed to fish my cock out to pee as I watched the sun peeking over the horizon.
The cattle were out and about, bored by the looks, and four hens of differing colors trotted by, doing their best to avoid the large puddles.
Brewster arrived with a few more hens, tutting at them when he found a worm.
Seeing that the chickens were out meant that at least Granny was awake and tended to her flock.
She’d be wanting to go to church today, if there were even services.
I kind of hoped not. I’d be happy to spend the day just cleaning up around here and relaxing.
Even though I slept, it felt as if it wasn’t a deep sleep, which it probably wasn’t when you shared your sleeping space with beings that belched, farted, and snored. And I wasn’t talking about the goats.
Wandering into the house, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and bacon met me at the door.
I placed the sleeping bag on the floor and peeked into the bedroom I shared with my son.
His bed was empty, the covers in a tangled knot as they usually were.
Trying to get the boy to make his bed after he got out of it was futile.
Much like Baker and Ford, who subscribed to the “Why make it when I’m just going to get into it tonight and mess it up again” group.
Sighing, I left the bed a mess so as not to wake the old gent slumbering peacefully.
The living room was busy. Most of our guests, save the man in my bed, were up and dressed, sipping on coffee and watching a talk show of some sort.
They all nodded and waved as I walked through to the kitchen.
Dahn looked up from a bowl of fruity rings when I entered.
He said nothing, just gave me that angry look he’d been wearing more and more the past week or two.
“Morning,” I said as Bella pressed a cup of coffee into my hand.
She and Granny were both coiffed and dressed in casual clothes, telling me that church attendance was not on the menu today.
Probably the good pastor was out tending to his sodden flock in need of guidance and a dry place to sleep. “Nice to see the sun shining.”
“That it is,” Granny said, passing over two plates with scrambled eggs and crispy bacon to Bella to deliver to the elderly in the living room. “We’re about out of eggs. I went out to check this morning but none of the girls had laid any.”
“Maybe if you tickle them, they’ll drop an egg for you,” I teased, giving Dahn a wink that he did not return.
I sat down beside him, slightly curious and a little peeved to be treated so rudely.
Bella scuttled out of the kitchen. Granny returned to scrambling more eggs.
“Have I done something to you to make you so grumpy with me?” I asked my son.
“No,” his reply was curt and sharp as a knife. “What do you care anyway?”
That one took me aback. I glanced over his head at Granny, who shrugged. My attention went back to my glowering boy.
“I care because I love you,” I replied, placing my forearms and my cup of coffee on the table.
“Dahn, I know things have been topsy-turvy the past few days. Flooding is always scary, but the worst of it is past, and the waters are starting to recede. I’m sure the fair will take place, perhaps with a small delay, but—”
His head snapped up. “I’m not mad about the stupid fair! I’m not mad about anything. I don’t care if you kiss the sheriff! Go do it. I don’t care. You’re stupid, and he’s stupid! Go run away with him just like Dad did!”
“Dahn, son, I’m not going anywhere.” His hurt and fear made me want to weep.
“What. Ever.” He flung his spoon to the table, shoved back and out of his chair, and stormed out the back door with a slam that made me wince.
“Holy hell,” I murmured as I got to my feet. “I wasn’t expecting the whatever reply in that tone until he was at least thirteen.”
“They grow up fast nowadays. Go easy on the boy. He’s scared of losing you like he did his other father,” Granny said while flipping bacon in a cast-iron skillet.
“I wasn’t going to yell at him, I was—”
Baker and Ford came in the back door just as a knock on the front took place. “Manfred Owens is here to get his mother,” Baker informed us.
“Well shit,” Granny muttered, turned off the heat under the skillet, and wiped her hands on her apron. “Where’s Lincoln?”
“Coming in the front,” Ford replied.
“Nothing like a nice peaceful country morning,” I huffed.
We all entered the living room just as Linc placed himself inside the front door, arms folded, sight never leaving Manfred as the older rancher walked through the front door.
We took up places in all four corners, same stances as Lincoln, while Granny pattered up to Manfred.
Winnie Owens was smiling at her son. Bella was seated beside Winnie, her hands folded in her lap, tense as a bird in a room filled with cats.
“Morning, Manfred,” Granny said, glancing at his head. “I ask that you remove your hat in my home.”
“Yes, sorry.” The large man did as asked. “I’m here to take Mama to our place until they get Lilac Hills up to specs.” His gaze darted to his mother sitting beside Bella, Winnie’s age-spotted hand resting on Bella’s arm. “How you feeling, Mama?”
“I feel good, son. It’s been so nice being here with my friends. This is my new friend, Bella Dee Britta. She’s been a godsend!” Winnie patted Bella’s arm gently. “Isn’t that just the prettiest name for the prettiest girl in the county?”
Manfred visibly grimaced but did not comment. “Mama, we’ve got the guest room all set up for you. Why don’t we gather your stuff and head over?”
“I do like the guest room. It looks out over the horses,” Winnie told Bella. “You’ll come visit, won’t you? And bring the book that you’ve been reading in the evenings? I need to find out how that clever Miss Marple solves that murder.”
Bella looked at Manfred, who was turning a fine shade of purple, then smiled at Winnie. “I’d be happy to come visit as long as your son approves of the visit.”
We all stared at Manfred, his cheeks now a deep plum, his hat in his hand.
“Seems a fine idea to me, Manfred,” Granny chimed up as a low, sort of worrisome sound rumbled out of Linc. “After all, it was Bella who carried your mama from a flooded building. She also has been reading to her and making sure she’s sleeping comfortably in Linc’s bed before turning in herself.”
Winnie was nodding along. I had my eye on Linc, who looked like a grizzly with one frayed nerve left.
“And she fixed my hair and did a glamor makeup yesterday afternoon! I looked just like Jean Harlow,” Winnie announced and got nods and agreements from the few other ladies seated nearby.
Everyone now waited for Manfred to reply. He seemed to be having some difficulty with it for some reason.
“We’d love to have Bella come visit to read a book,” he forced out. That reply cost him dearly. It was obvious.
Winnie and Bella hugged. Granny smiled sweetly up at Manfred before offering him some coffee and eggs. He declined with fractured civility.
“I’ll see you soon, Winnie,” Bella called out to her after Manfred had helped her out and into his truck. The old woman waved and smiled through the window before the truck sped off, kicking up mud as Manfred tried his hardest to get the most distance from us in the fastest time possible.
Linc rounded on Bella. “You’re not really going to that ranch to read a book, are you? I’m not happy about that decision at all.”
She tossed her chin up. A sure sign my brother was about to be told a thing or two.
“I most certainly am. I told her I would. I do not go back on my word to good, decent people, Lincoln Bastian. Also, I don’t like that possessive tone of yours.
I will go where I wish when I wish. Now, I suggest you wash your beard as it’s littered with hay flakes and go eat before I decide to dump your eggs over your head. ”
I held the door open for her as Bella stormed back inside. Granny snickered and followed her bestie. I let the screen door glide closed.
“Nicely played,” Baker said, heading into the house.
“Dude, I could have told you that was a bad move.” Ford sighed as he ambled along after Baker.
Linc looked at me. I lifted a shoulder. “For what it’s worth, my kid thundered off as well this morning, so we’re kind of in similar boats, only not.
” I rubbed my whiskery chin as he shook his head.
I gave him a pat on the shoulder. No one ever said romance and parenthood were easy. If they did, they were lying.