Page 3 of Tommy

“Everyone pulls the same face when they mention Hardin,” I said, as she filled a small bag with apples.

“I like to think they call him Hardin for a reason, other than it being his last name, he’s got a bit of a hard face. Impossible to read. So, yeah, everyone wants to know what will happen. I didn’t want to say it, but you’re treading on his time, the holiday season is usually when he’s alone, and he likes it that way.”

“Alone? As in, no family?”

She shrugged, filling another clear bag, this time with oranges. “As long as I’ve known him, I haven’t really got to know him,” she said. “He’s never mentioned his family. But those animals on the ranch are the closest thing for him, so whatever you do, be nice to them.”

I liked animals, I wouldn’t call myself an animal person, or even a nature person, but I could see how being around both could change me. “Should I take him something?” I asked. “I don’t want him to think he has to treat me like I’m there as a guest requesting turn down service every evening.”

“Turn down service,” she howled. “You might just be what he needs. You might even get him to crack a smile.”

I decided I should get him something, but it was very last minute. It took me until we got to the cash register where I saw a small stand with funky animal magnets. “Oh, maybe I’ll get him a chicken one.”

“You don’t have to get him anything,” she said before striking up a conversation with the man behind the counter, and the moment she mentioned it was for Hardin, he laughed.

I stuck to my plan, and even if he hated it, I had a clear conscience that I’d thought about a gift. So, I bought the largest magnet with a chicken surrounded by beveled eggs and a phrase embossed along the bottom edge. It read. ‘Have an eggcellent day.’I loved a good pun, even if it was overplayed.

All I had to do now, was meet the man behind all the gossip, and hope he didn’t bite my head off.

2. HARDIN

There was never a single moment of peace on the ranch, which is why I looked forward to December so much. The snow picked up, the roads to the ranch were impassable, cell service was spotty, and I was able to go undisturbed for a good chunk of time until the owners were checking in for updates. All of that changed when I got a call, out of the blue, a very old friend, Mick Easton, he needed somewhere to send his client on a self-imposed retreat. I might’ve saidno, but I owed him one after he rescued me way back from catching a near-certain death one winter on the road when I’d caught a flat on my spare tire.

It was safe to say, agreeing to helping Mick out now with his city-boy was payback and a half for the life he’d saved. And who knows, maybe I’d have gotten a little frostbite and lost a couple toes, it might’ve been worth it to spend the holidays alone, like I’d looked forward to, and had planned for the longest time.

Lone Pine Ranch had been my home for a number of years now. Before this, I’d lived on larger ranches where there were more workers. I’d found that I thrived when I could do things my way without several other cowboys competing for the same work.

Under my care, there were three horses, two dogs, two goats, two barn cats, and a small flock of chickens, always managing to be under my feet whenever I went out to see how they were doing. They were all the interaction I needed, even if June and Sully, the part-time workers here said I needed to be more integrated with the town. They really didn’t understand me at all if they thought I wanted to become that cowboy who came to town and was surprisingly unlike all the other cowboys they’d met.

I needed a good book, a hot tea, and the crackle of a nearby fire. I was a fresh forty, and while I might only now be looking my age, I’ve always felt like I had an old soul trapped in me. I didn’t care much for technology or all the new-fangled appliances city slickers needed to get through their day. I hated dealing with people from the city, trying to come here with preconceived notions of how the ranch was going to be. Whoever this kid was, he was going to be in for a rude awakening.

As the teakettle whistled, a crackle came over the walkie-talkie. It was June, she was close and that meant I had to get out there and shovel out the snowbank that had built up around the road. Since June only came over a couple days a week, when I was left alone, I allowed the snow to build up like small fort—nothing you couldn’t step through or acorss. I pulled the teakettle from the stove and poured the water into my tea flask. I was expected to spring into action like a good host.

“Junebug to Big Eagle,”her voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Our guest doesn’t have appropriate footwear.” She followed it up with a slight whisper to the passenger in her car. “But we did grab groceries and I got you some of that tea you like.”

It was the least she could do. I pressed my thumb into the side of the walkie-talkie.”Thank you, Junebug,” I said. “There are spare boots. I can bring a pair to the car when you get here.”

Armed with a shovel, I tucked the walkie-talkie into the holster on my belt. I fixed my Stetson on my head, and zipped my cozy lined jacket to the neck. I knew I’d have to force myself to smile and greet him, which I quickly practiced in the reflection of the mirror by the front door. I was still coming to terms with my alone time being invaded.

The road to the ranch was visible, forcing me to watch as they approached for five minutes before actually arriving. I’d shoveled the snow equally between the side of each road. Andwhile waiting, I sat on the wrap-around porch of the main house. My tea finished steeping in the flask. I tugged the string and wrung it out before inhaling the red berry scent. The two dogs were resting by me. Rusty and Pip, Rusty was an old blue heeler. He followed me around everywhere and rarely made a sound. Then there was Pip, a hyperactive border collie pup that yapped far too much, especially when he was near the goats, cats, or chickens, not like he stood a chance against them, especially those chickens.

Pip jumped to his paws and skidded down the slick snowy porch steps. He barked at the incoming car as it approached, as if he hadn’t just been trying to get under my feet or fight with the shovel just moments ago.

“Quit it,” I snapped, pouring a tea into the lid of my cup. “You’ll have plenty of time to annoy our guest, and I hope you do.” I wasn’t exactly hoping the animals would annoy him, but it would be one way they might be used to get him to cut his trip short.

Rusty stared at me, waiting for me to stand before he spent any energy on it.

“Yeah, you stay there,” I told him. “But you’re gonna have to put some effort in to annoying him when he gets settled. Make sure the settling doesn’t happen.”

This place wasn’t the right place for a city boy to come in the middle of winter. The snow alone should’ve been enough to scare him off. And with threats of snowstorms on the horizon, I’d prefer it if he left before that happened.

The car got stuck in a section of snow, the wheel grinding and spinning as it couldn’t get any grip.

June’s voice came through the walkie-talkie. “Looks like we hit the snowbank.”

I could see the bank of snow at the side of the car she’d driven up. My eye twitched. June was competent, but snowblindness hit us all sometimes, especially when we were driving. “I’ve got eyes on you. Reverse out of it.”

“The tire is lodged, I think, wait, I’ll see if I can—” the sound of her car growling was heard through both the walkie-talkie and as close to me as it was. “Both front and back tires are lodged.”

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