6. Clint
6
CLINT
C lint propped his hands on his hips and stared at the bane of his existence. The bull decided to start attacking people about a month ago after a run-in with a pack of wild dogs, and the leader of the herd was more trouble than he was worth.
“Okay, small fry. Have it your way, but I’m hauling you off to the next auction,” Clint said, pointing a finger at the bull.
Yeah, talking to livestock never got him anywhere. Instead of listening, the bull trotted in a semi-circle until he had Clint in his line of sight again.
“Come on. I’m tired and hungry,” Clint grumbled.
The bull charged, and Clint waited until the last second before diving to the right. He ducked into a roll and popped back up onto his feet. “Missed again.”
Clint didn’t give the bull another chance to run him down. Sprinting for the tractor, he climbed up the side in one quick step and closed the cab.
“Enjoy your breakfast!” Clint hollered as he directed the tractor back toward the hay barn. He pulled his phone out of his chest pocket. No calls or messages.
He had to stop thinking about Nora. Well, there was a lot of thinking going on, but worry accounted for most of it. Whatever Hank had to say yesterday had put up all her walls.
Thankfully, Clint was a master at waiting it out. Nora had lots of moods, but the best way to get her to talk was to sit back and wait it out. He’d tried to force her into talking before, and it hadn’t worked out well for him.
Too bad he failed patience in school. The waiting made him itchy. Running from the bull had helped a little, but he still had the urge to run to her place and squeeze her until the truth spilled out.
She’d be fine. Nora could take care of herself. Still, he wanted to be her rock–her shoulder to cry on.
As if he’d ever seen Nora cry.
Clint parked the tractor and jumped down. His stomach growled as he jogged to his truck. One of the perks of working on the family ranch was his mom’s home-cooked meals. If he was lucky, it would be his mom’s famous meatloaf.
Well, it wasn’t famous famous. It was small-town famous. Like, the dish everyone asked her to bring to potlucks, church get-togethers, and any other time someone needed a meal delivered to their door.
He parked in front of his parents’ house and sprinted up the porch steps. The smell of cooking meat greeted him at the door.
“It’s meatloaf!” his mom announced from the kitchen.
Clint grinned as he hung his hat and coat on the rack and toed off his boots by the door. Mom knew all about his impatience. He couldn’t even wait to find out about lunch until he walked to the kitchen.
His mom stirred a large bowl of mashed potatoes as he walked in. His dad stepped into the kitchen from the door leading into the side yard. He opened his coat, revealing a dark sweat ring on his shirt.
Clint grabbed a potholder and flopped it on the table just before his mom rested the bowl of hot potatoes on it. “Anyone else coming?”
“It’s just us,” his mom said. “Jordan and Alicia are shopping for paint in town. Did you ask Nora to join us?”
Clint filled three glasses with cold water and put them on the table. “I guess not. She didn’t text me back. ”
“How’s our girl?” his mom asked. “I haven’t seen her since she got back.”
“It’s only been a day. Give her time.”
At least, that’s what Clint kept telling himself. Moving from one state to another had to be kind of stressful, even for a woman like Nora who planned out every step.
Clint’s phone dinged, and he fumbled with the opening on his chest pocket in a rush to get it out.
Nora: Sorry. I’ve been slammed today. Call you later.
“She said she’s busy.” Clint put the phone down, but a nagging in the back of his mind said she was pulling away. He just wanted to be there for her. Whatever she was going through was just as much his problem as it was hers. They did everything together.
Or maybe they had done everything together before. Eight months was a long time to miss someone. She could have changed.
He wasn’t an overthinker. Why was he trying to read so much into everything? She’d fill him in later, like she said.
Clint’s dad propped his elbows on the wooden tabletop and clasped his hands. “Father, thank You for this food. Please bless the hands that prepared it. I pray that You would forgive us for our sins and failures. I pray You will guide us in all that we do. We also make a special request for Nora as she settles back in at home. May her stress be eased by Your nearness. Thank You, Jesus. Amen.”
Clint talked about the morning work while they ate. His dad filled him in on some other tasks that needed attention, and they headed out for the Feed and Seed right after lunch.
They stepped out of Clint’s truck and walked side-by-side into the store.
“You get Cobalt and Steele. I’ll get Hazel and Frosty,” his dad said.
“Got it.” Things always went quicker when they split up the feeds by horses. Cobalt and Steele were older and needed similar feeds, while Hazel and Frosty were Caroline’s and not quarter horses.
Inside, Clint grabbed a trolley and wheeled it to the horse feed section while his dad followed. They passed Chaz Buchanan, and Clint’s dad stopped to talk.
Clint parked the trolley by the pallets of feed and started loading fifty-pound bags. His dad and Chaz strolled over after a minute, and Chaz jumped in to help with the feed.
“I heard a rumor, and I think one of you might be able to tell me if it’s true. I don’t like to gossip, but this is a situation when someone might need a hand,” Chaz said.
Chaz wasn’t the kind to spread words he heard through the grapevine. If he was bringing it up, it was probably a bad deal .
“It’s Hank St. James. I heard he’s losing the ranch.”
The bag of feed Clint had just lifted slid out of his hands, falling and tumbling off the side of the stack of bags. “Come again?”
Chaz rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. I don’t want to bring it up if it’s not true. I really don’t want to bring it up at all, but Hank’s a good guy. If there’s anything we can do…”
“You’re right. We should see if he needs help,” Clint’s dad said.
Losing the ranch. No way. Hank and Nora had lived there forever. Nora hadn’t said anything.
Clint froze. Nora hadn’t said anything.
Was that what her dad told her yesterday? It would explain the trailer full of furniture. If they lost the ranch, they lost their home and their jobs.
No. It couldn’t happen. Nora was his neighbor and friend. He’d worked just as many hours for Hank this year as he had his own ranch. Hank would have mentioned it.
Except, he hadn’t. And there had clearly been a problem when Clint dropped Nora off at her dad’s house a little over twenty-four hours ago.
“How do we do that without overstepping our bounds?” Chaz asked.
Clint’s paralysis broke, and he hefted the bag back onto the stack. “I’ll take care of it. Let’s get this loaded so I can talk to Nora. ”
“You sure, son? What if she doesn’t even know. This isn’t necessarily our business,” his dad said.
“Anything that’s Nora’s business is my business.”
Chaz shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s got a backbone like a lightning rod. She might not take too kindly to an intrusion.”
Clint blinked and straightened. Chaz was right, but that didn’t make the realization any easier to swallow. “Okay. I’ll just meet up with her tonight and see if she decides to tell me. When I dropped her off yesterday, it looked like Hank wanted to talk to her about something.”
“She may be processing,” his dad said. “If Hank needs help, I’d like to think he’d have approached me by now.”
Chaz sighed. “Pride is a wicked beast.”
Wasn’t that the truth? Would Nora tell him if something like this was happening, or had they grown too far apart in the last eight months?
He slipped his phone out and sent her a text.
Clint: Can I come over tonight after work?
She messaged back almost immediately.
Nora: Let’s meet at your place. Bring me leftovers if your mom cooks dinner.
Clint shoved the phone back into his pocket and loaded the last of the feed. He’d keep his mind off Nora by working until he could see her.
If her dad was in danger of losing the ranch, hopefully he’d find out tonight.