Ranch Manny - B.A. Tortuga Page 0,6
need a place to catch up and have a safe home for my girl for a little while.
“We all need second chances,” Brent said wryly. “Sometimes third and fourth.”
“Yeah. I’m not above taking chances. She’s worth it.”
“Sounds like it. You’ll have to tell me your story over a beer.”
That worked for him. He was curious to hear Brent’s story too, if the kids weren’t his biologically.
“Fair enough.”
Susannah came out of the bathroom, hugging Jan hard before running to him. “Dad-O! I’m ready.”
“Good girl. Washed and all?”
“Yessir.” Her hand was wet when he took it.
“Excellent. Let’s follow Mr. Brent. We have a job!”
“Yay job!”
They headed outside into the bright Texas sun, and for the first time in…well, in too long, he felt like things might be looking up.
Trace hoped he hadn’t just jinxed himself.
Chapter 2
“What in Sam Hell are you doing?” Brent Mowry asked himself when he got into his truck. Hell, he’d never even asked the kid with rainbow dreadlocks and a smoking piece of shit his name. The little girl was Susannah, and she was cute as a button, but he’d just hired the guy out of desperation and the need to keep that baby out of the campground where the goddamn sheriff had made a huge drug bust two weeks ago.
What if the kid had no idea how to take care of Curly or goats or anything else?
He glanced in the rearview to make sure they were still behind him, yanking out his phone to call Bald Harold.
“Yo, boss.” The man’s voice was just as calm as can be. He could hardly remember a time Bald Harold hadn’t been at the ranch, and Curly’d lived there for at least a couple decades before Brent was born. The old man had been a constant presence forever.
“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?” He’d felt bad for leaving Harold in the lurch, but at least he’d fully intended to post that ad all over town.
“It’s going. Curly’s taking a nap. I’m pondering lunch.”
“Jan sent y’all sammiches. And, well, okay, I met a guy at the diner. I hired him to—”
“Oh shit, boss. I heard.”
“What?” Already?
“Yep. Jan done called down. You know how she loves to get the drop on you.”
Dammit. “Well, he’s our new hand.”
“Does he really have rainbow-colored hair? And a kid? Is he a musician or an artist or something?” Harold didn’t wait for him to answer. “Tell me he’s in charge of the kids, the house, and Curly. Can he cook?”
“He says he can, yeah. He was a schoolteacher. His little girl looks maybe three, could be four. He was gonna end up at the campground.”
“So he’s divorced?”
“Says his baby mama died.” And that sucked, no matter what. That little girl deserved to have a momma.
“That sucks. And he’s a schoolteacher that wants to babysit old men. Go him. Still, tell me he’s a cowboy someway, huh?”
“He knows animals, he says. Can take care of the chickens and goats and all.” He hoped that was true. God knew they had enough to do. If not, he’d send the kid on. Brent knew this was stupid, but he couldn’t let that little girl sleep in a tent with a chemical toilet and all the weird folks campgrounds drew.
Plus, the man himself had just looked so tired. Brent got that.
Tired and desperate was a place he’d been too often. He wasn’t hurting these days, as far as money. A couple of million-dollar buckles bought a cowboy a lot of cattle, but he knew wore out. Taking on his kids had damn near taken him out at first.
Losing his best friend, Shane, and Shane’s wife, Hayley, who happened to be Brent’s only first cousin, hadn’t helped. He was going to do right by their children if it killed him.
“Good. Take care of food, kids, goats, chickens, rabbits, and Curly. I’m in.”
“He’s only one guy,” Brent warned. “We still have to help.”
“I’ll help, boss. You know that. We just need a break.”
“We do, buddy. Anyway, I swear, we’ll do something special for supper.” Bald Harold deserved some time and good food too.
“You want me to run get brisket to cook when I go to town?”
Oh, that would be a blessing. “You don’t mind?”
“Nope. I’ll fire up the smoker if you keep Curly off it.”
“That’s the new guy’s job, right?” Assuming Curly didn’t take one look at the man and totally freak right the fuck out.
“It is.” Harold chuckled evilly. “Oh, I like this guy already.”
“He’s a hippie from Austin. Just FYI.”
“Good. That will