Page 1 of Holiday Hire

1

Alexander Cartwright

"Wilder! Ace! Go get cleaned up!" I shout across the ranch, wiping the beads of sweat off my forehead.

It's abnormally hot for the start of November. My sons have been riding horses all morning while my three brothers, Sebastian, Mason, and Jagger, break in six new racehorses we purchased.

Wilder and Ace run their horses harder away from the barn.

Sebastian chuckles. "Doesn't look like they heard you, Alexander."

"Like hell they didn't," I mutter, then put my fingers to my lips and whistle.

Ace, my youngest son, shoots me a mischievous smirk, then refocuses on Wilder and kicks his horse to catch up.

I cross my arms over my chest. "I swear Wilder is teaching him bad habits."

"No different from when we were boys," Sebastian claims.

I ignore his comment, whistle again, then shout, "Don't make me get on a horse to come get you two!"

My other brothers step next to Sebastian and me. They all find humor in my sons not listening to my orders, but I'm not amused.

I snap, "You're happy your nephews are turning into disrespectful boys?"

Mason grunts. "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"Yeah, they just want to keep riding. We were the same when we were kids," Jagger insists.

"We didn't ignore Dad when he called us in," I state.

"Your memory is fading," Dad bellows.

I turn my head. "Did Mom keep you in town all morning?"

"No. We've been back for a bit."

"You've been sitting inside?"

"Yep." A look passes over his expression. I can't tell what it is, and he whistles before I can question him. It's as shrill as mine.

My boys circle a tree and race toward us.

"Little shits," I mutter.

Sebastian chuckles again and pats me on the back.

It irritates me even more. My boys are good kids and have always listened to me. Yet Wilder's been pushing boundaries lately, and Ace is too happy to try anything his older brother does.

A cloud of dust trails them, and they stop several feet in front of us and then jump off their horses.

Mason opens the gate, and the horses trot past the fence.

"You need to lean into those turns," Dad instructs Ace.

"I told him," Wilder interjects.

I warn, "The next time you two want to ignore me, you'll skip lunch and spend the rest of the day doing chores. Understand?"

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