Chapter 10 #2
Brooks watched out the window, and Coop knew it was damn impressive—from the solid fence delineating the land to the main house to the rodeo company wintering there to the smattering of top-of-the-line barns.
The Chiara place was like its own living entity.
His place was big, sure, but not fancy. Just big.
Kase and Ryder were both a force of nature.
“So I hear that everybody who lives on the Chiara ranch has to take some sort of foster kid training? Even the rodeo guys.”
Coop nodded. “Yep. I didn’t have to take it, because I don’t live there, and I’m not a full-time employee or nothing like that.
But the guys all take it, and they’re all into it.
I mean, the Chiaras pay their bills and they’re good people, good people to work for.
But everybody’s gotta kind of know what to do with the foster kids. ”
“Are they all fucked-up?”
“Some of them.” Coop shrugged, feeling weirdly like he was being unfair, but it was the truth.
“Some of them are, yeah. Some of them are just fine. It can be anything from an emergency situation where there’s abuse, or some poor kid’s parents have gotten into a little bit of trouble and they need somewhere to go for a hot minute.
Uh, they do a lot of care where other foster homes just need a break.
Or the kids just need to get out. This is a good place to have a different viewpoint, right?
I mean, they come in from Albuquerque. Downtown and all.
They come out here and they get a week or two of country.
Then they can breathe. Kase and Ryder host a whole bunch of queer kids too. ”
“Why?”
Coop glanced over at Brooks. “What?”
“Why do they do it? Have all these foster kids and stuff? It seems like a hard life,” Brooks said.
Oh, that was easy. “Ryder says it’s his calling.
He has a lot—money, love, stability—and it would make him less of a man if he didn’t help.
I like that about him. We’re of a mind on that.
When you got more than you need, you give it and help people who have less than they need.
The simple fact is we’re all just dirt at the end whether you go out in a golden casket or a pine one.
At that point, you’re just dust. And all that’s left behind is what people remember you for.
” Coop shrugged. “I just want to be remembered as a good man.”
“You are a good man, Coop. Trust me.” Brooks grinned at him, winked. “I’m a good judge of character.”
“Ha! A good judge of horseflesh, maybe.”
“That too.” Brooks just shrugged. “I have no idea what I’ll be remembered as.”
Coop pulled in at the trailer sales place. Hell, in a town this small, they sold trailers, cars, boats, and RVs. But everyone knew Leo Hernandez gave a good deal for a solid product.
“I think you’ll be remembered as a good man, Brooks. The rest is up to you. You want to do horses? You do it and be the best you can be at it.”
Brooks nodded at him, looking a little uncomfortable, but his chin had a determined jut to it. “I will. I just have to get hooked up with my first couple of pairs of breeding stock.”
“So how do you go about that?” Coop asked as they walked into the little storefront at the trailer place. “Hey, Leo.”
“Hey, Coop!” Leo bustled over. “What can I do you for?”
“I’m here to pay for and pick up a trailer.” Brooks gave Leo a small smile.
“Ah, you must be Mr. Whitehead. Pleased.” Leo shook hands.
“Brooks is going to be staying out at my place with the kids. He’s getting the barns all tricked out for horses,” Coop explained.
Leo looked back and forth between them. “What kind of horses?”
Brooks glanced at Coop, and Coop worked to keep his face pleasantly expressionless.
“A couple of pleasure riding horses for me and the kids. And I raise and train cutting and reining horses.”
“Well, now, there’s some money there.”
“Yessir.” Brooks waited for Leo to bring up his order, not getting antsy at all. He guessed life in the middle of nowhere moved as slow in Australia as it did around here…
They got it all locked up and hooked the trailer to the truck. Then they worked loose from Leo and headed out.
“How do you feel about Mexican?” he asked.
“I could kill me some,” Brooks shot right back.
“Cool.” He grinned. “So how do you go about picking horses?” He circled back to the question Brooks hadn’t had a chance to answer.
“Oh! Yeah, well, that depends. I need to call a few folks. But I can also take a chance on some auctions in Santa Fe and maybe in Denver…” Brooks warmed to the subject, talking about straws, which were semen specimens from proven producers, and about the kinds of horses he wanted to run for him and the kids to ride and soon enough, they were at Tequilas, which smelled so good.
Most of the kids were young to be wasting money on a Mexican place. They would just ask for chicken fingers or a burger. He’d brought Benji and Ricky a few times, though, when the others went to Kase and Ryder’s.
They sat over chips and salsa, and he had a Coke, so Brooks did too.
He had to admit, he was damn interested in what Brooks had to say. Of course, he also found himself watching the way Brooks’s mouth moved, the way his eyebrows rose and fell as he spoke.
Brooks had gotten exponentially hotter the longer Coop had known him. That was probably weird and maybe bad. They had to spend a lot of time together after all.
“And then I thought I would get a unicorn or maybe a tankful of sharks.”
“Huh?” Coop frowned. “What about sharks?”
“You were woolgathering, Coop. Was I boring?” A touch of red traced across Brooks’s high cheekbones.
“Not one bit. I just got to thinking, and that’s always a terrible thing.”
Brooks snorted. “Well, we can’t have that. Let’s drink to my new trailer.”
“Done.” He clinked plastic cups with Brooks, and he dug into the chips and salsa.
He could get used to this adult time thing.
Especially with Brooks.