Chapter 2 #2
I didn’t joke that he had a pretty limited idea of what half that horse’s hair looked like. No jokes. No more smiles. “Mr. Bowen is a pretty hands-on owner, but sure. Come on.”
This time of day, I figured we’d find Kendrick in his study.
He used the mornings for paperwork and some accounting work he did for local businesses.
He had a degree and all, said he liked nice clean numbers first thing in the morning.
The extra income didn’t hurt, either. If cattle ranching had ever been easy money, those days were long gone.
Austin shouldered his pack and followed me across the yard into the main house. He hesitated inside the door, asking, “Boots?”
“Scrub on the mat. Mr. Bowen’s not fussy that way, unless they’re bad.” Lori, his wife, had been more particular, but she was gone seven years now.
I led Austin down the hall and knocked on the study door. Kendrick had a strict knock-and-wait policy, since he worked with other people’s money. Austin took off his hat and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, looking worried, his eyes wide.
“Just a moment,” came through the door. Then after a dozen heartbeats, “Okay. Come.” Kendrick sat behind the desk, and he looked us over as I led the way in. “Seth. What’s up?”
“Uh, this is Austin. He’s looking for work.”
Kendrick’s raised eyebrows said he didn’t know why I hadn’t just sent the kid on his way and not bothered my boss. Honestly, neither did I. So I just added, “Mr. Bowen owns the Star & Bar. He’s the one who’d know if there’s any jobs.”
“I’ve worked with beefs and horses before, and odd jobs too,” Austin said, before Kendrick could open his mouth.
“I’ll work real hard. Any jobs you want, any hours.
Cleaning out the chicken coop. Scrubbing floors.
I’ll work for room and board, if that’s okay.
You don’t have to pay me a cent till I prove myself. ”
“That’s a good offer, son, but we really don’t need the help.
” Kendrick kept his tone calm and gentle, like he could see how much this mattered to Austin.
“This time of year, I’m giving the regular hands extra time off, because things are slow.
Now, come early spring, we do hire on a bunch of seasonal hands.
If you come around then, we’ll give you a try, especially if you have references. ”
“My old boss would tell you I did a good job, I’m sure.”
“Right. Stop by then, beginning of March, and we’ll see.” Kendrick stood and held out his hand.
Austin opened his mouth as if to protest, but the firm note in Kendrick’s voice hadn’t left him an opening. He shook hands, his smaller fingers engulfed in Kendrick’s big mitt, and mumbled, “Thank you.”
Kendrick sat. “See Austin out, will you, Seth?”
“Sure.” I couldn’t do anything except wave Austin through the door and close it behind us.
I should’ve kept on hustling Austin off the property.
That was what Kendrick had probably meant— don’t let this guy hang around.
But it was cold out, and the kid had walked a ways.
“Hey,” I said. “You want a cup of coffee before you head out? There’s always a pot brewing in the kitchen. ”
“I should probably go.” Austin stared down at the toes of his boots.
“You got time for a cuppa joe. Come on.” I led him down the hall to the big farmhouse kitchen.
During the season, when the bunkhouse was full of summer hands, we all ate over there in the dining hall.
In winter, now that Kendrick’s wife had passed, and their kids were grown and gone, this kitchen was where we hung out.
I poured us each a cup of hot black coffee. “Milk or sugar?”
“No.” Then Austin changed his mind. “I mean, yes. Some of each.”
“Coming up.” I doctored his mug and passed it to him.
For a moment, Austin closed his eyes and breathed in the aroma. Then he took a sip and sighed.
“Nothing like a good cup of joe.” I tasted mine and coughed a little. “Although this is a mediocre cup. Kenrick must’ve not made fresh since early morning.”
“Tastes fine to me. I’m not fussy.” Austin drank his down steadily.
“You want a lift back to your car?” I asked when he was done. “You could call the tow truck from here and meet them.”
“Nah. I don’t mind the walk.” He took his mug to the sink, washed it out, and set it in the rack to dry. Cleaning up after himself. I liked that in a man.
“Well…” I couldn’t think of a reason to delay him any longer. Heck, I shouldn’t want to. “Come on, I’ll show you out. You could leave your number and references and such for Mr. Bowen, if you wanted.”
“Don’t know where I’ll be by spring.”
“Sure.” When we stepped out into the yard, a gust of chill wind went right down my spine. I shivered, but Austin didn’t flinch, just jammed his Stetson down over his hair and hefted his pack higher on his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want that ride?” I asked.
“No, thanks. Though if you can think of anywhere around here that might be hiring?”
I really wanted to have an idea, but didn’t. “Try down in Tolberg. They’re bigger than Selbyville. There’s probably something. Christmas is barely a month away. There might be retail jobs.”
“Sure. I’ll do that.”
“How broke are you? I could loan you a bit.” I felt stupid offering money to a stranger, but I couldn’t help myself.
Austin met my gaze, and for a moment he looked younger than ever, wide-eyed and lost. I thought he might say yes, but he straightened his shoulders. “I’ll get by. But thank you.”
Kid had his pride, clearly. I wouldn’t push past that.
Patch, the older of our two cattle dogs, came bounding across the yard toward us. Austin bent to offer his hand, and when Patch sniffed and then leaned into Austin’s legs, he petted the dog’s ears and scratched his chest the way dogs love.
“Hey, boy,” he murmured. “Not much of a guard dog, are you?”
“That’s Patch. With all the dudes coming through in the summers, he needs to be good with strangers.”
“Cattle too, I bet.” Patch offered his furry butt, and Austin scratched him obligingly.
I said, “Yeah, he’s good at his job. Getting older, so the hands mostly take Ramble, his younger brother, along with them when we’re not moving a bunch of cattle.”
Austin knelt, his face shielded from me by the brim of his hat. “Bet you’d say age is just a number, huh, Patch? Judge a man or a dog by what he can do.” Patch rolled over for a belly rub and Austin provided one, then stood. “Well, I’m off. Good luck with your, uh, winter.”
“And with yours.” I held out my hand, and after a second, he gripped it firmly.
“Thanks. See you.” He whirled and strode out toward the drive. Patch trotted alongside him for a hundred feet before turning and coming back. Austin walked on, his head high, his back straight.
I had plenty of chores I could be doing, but I stood there at the bottom of the steps and watched the kid go.
He’d be fine, of course. He’d get his car fixed and drive off to Tolberg and find a job in some store, selling holiday crap. I might see him if I went into town to pick up a gift.
He’d be fine. He’d turned down a lift. Turned down money.
There was no reason that, as his slim frame got smaller and smaller down that road, I had the impression Austin was vanishing not just from my sight, but from the world.