Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,19

sandwiches.”

“How many do you have? What do they do here?” Trace asked.

“I hire on guys to come in at calving and branding, that sort of thing. Right now, we’re moving herds and doing some culling. The calves.”

“Wow. That sounds cool. Fascinating and hard, but cool.”

“You’ll have to come out and see some of it. Jakob is getting old enough to come out without me worrying, but maybe you could bring all the girls out for lunch one day.” He loved the idea of Trace coming to see him work, not being stuck at the house all day.

“Oh, that would rock. Seriously. This is… I’m trying real hard to believe this is a new adventure for us, and I intend to learn everything I can.”

“I like that attitude.” In fact, his initial impression of Trace improved every five minutes or so.

“I watched Taneshia go from busy and happy to gone in no time. I’m not wasting anything.”

The sorrow in Trace’s voice made Brent swallow hard.

“Oh God, that sounds awful.” Even if it was a turkey-baster situation, they had to be good friends, right? And that poor baby girl, losing her momma.

“Yes. But you get it. Suddenly everything’s changed.”

“I do. It’s like life took a left turn and I’m kinda lost.”

His dad would say all shit rolled downhill and piled up at the fence. And he had the ranch, the homestead. This kid had a baby and a piece-of-shit hatchback. He could imagine his folks after seeing Trace—shee-it. Mom would have clutched her sparkly belt, and his dad would have spit on the ground.

Not that it mattered. They were both in the ground, and his dad had died before he was even in school. Most of his memories were stories that had been told on the man.

“Well, I want to help—both of us. All of us. Do you make your living selling cows?”

“I do a lot of money in horses, actually. Breeding and training. I work cattle to train them and, well, for the taxes.” He chuckled. That was what cowboys did too. Right? He had a herd from all the years Grandpa had run the ranch, so he maintained it.

“That’s cool. I used to know how to ride, a long time ago. My grandfather had a little ranch near Salado.”

“That’s a neat area.” He’d been up there to Belton for the rodeo more than once. It was a beautiful area.

“It is. He sold it a long time ago, so I have these distant memories.” Trace shifted in the chair, and the kid’s back cracked.

“You sure you’re okay on the couch? I can probably find a rollaway.”

“The couch will be fine, I promise.” Trace yawned. “Sorry, it’s been a crazy day.” He popped the last bite of muffin into his mouth. “I keep thinking I’ll wake up.”

Brent got that. He really did. “You want me to help get y’all’s bags from up above the garage?” he offered.

“Oh, they’re all in the car still. I only managed to take up my laptop and phone cord and Susannah’s travel toys.” Trace chuckled softly. “Seriously. I’ll run up and get the phone cord and grab our one emergency clothes bag. Then tomorrow I’ll do the rest.”

“Well, let’s get you headed for bed, huh? Anything I need to do in the kitchen?” He stood, the cobbler gobbled up without him even really knowing it. All he had was an empty bowl.

“I think we’re okay. I’m not sure how y’all do the settings on the dishwasher.” Trace stood and gathered the little pile of barbecue tools and paper plates.

“Oh, I can show you.” That was easy-peasy. The dishwasher was new and looked fancier than advertised.

They hung up coats and the dishes were started, and Brent went to dig out sheets and a blanket, grinning when he came in with pillows. “Here you go. I know you found the remote earlier.”

“Curly left it on the coffee table. I saw Daisy had a baby monitor. Should I take the other half?”

Brent blinked. “It’s in my bedroom, but there’s an extra if you want it. You totally don’t have to.”

“I bet you could use an uninterrupted night’s sleep.”

“I—sure. You don’t have to be on twenty-four seven, though. I swear.” God, Trace was amazing. Generous.

Please God. Don’t send me this perfect man and have him be a serial killer. Thank you. Amen.

“Oh good. Eventually I’d have a stroke. I’m used to it, though. Listening, and if Susannah so much as peeps, I’ll be up. I know me. New place, new sounds.”

“New

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