Page 48 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
Elmer laughed. “Yeah, well, you be careful out there camping, you hear? Can’t have my best tenant getting hurt and not able to pay his rent on time.”
“Gee, thanks.”
The quiet camaraderie boosted Hugo’s confidence a bit, though, and he coaxed Elmer through another hour of playing chess before calling it a night. In his trailer, Hugo packed a few things in a gym bag he could attach to his saddle: clean underwear, toothbrush and paste, sunscreen, bug spray, an extra pair of jeans, some beef jerky snacks, and socks. He took an extra-long shower the next morning, making sure he was as clean as he’d be for the next couple of days. Washing his face in the creek was fine, but he doubted he’d strip down for a full-on bath.
His scooter puttered down the road to the Woods Ranch, Hugo kind of looking forward to this trip. A few days away to clear his head sounded like pure heaven. Three horses were tethered to the rail outside the barn when Hugo parked, one burdened with most of their equipment, the other two saddled like normal. He didn’t see Jackson’s pickup yet, and Jackson usually beat him to work.
A figure emerged from the mouth of the open barn doors, and Hugo half expected Alan. Instead, Brand strode toward him, shoulders back and expression clear. Him around the barn this early in the day wasn’t all that unusual, but something didn’t sit right with Hugo. “Where’s Jackson?” Hugo asked.
“Called out,” Brand replied. He pointed to Mercutio, who had a pack attached to his saddle horn. “I’m going out camping with you instead.”
Hugo’s stomach twisted up tight. “You’re what?”
“Taking Jackson’s place for the three-day camp.” He whistled and Brutus loped to his side. “We’re running the herd together.”
Well, shit.
Chapter Fifteen
Hugo’s brain momentarily fuzzed out, because no way in hell had Brand just said they were going on a three-day camp together. Overnight. Just the two of them. No. Fucking. Way.
Except he had. “Jackson wouldn’t call out unless he was in full-body traction in the ER,” Hugo said. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I didn’t ask,” Brand replied, way too calm and neutral. “But you’re right, he rarely ever calls off or takes a personal day, so I’m giving him time off. Dad, Alan, and Rem can handle things while we’re away. The more those steer eat, the more pounds we’ve got to sell. And we’re gonna move them slow, so the muscles don’t get too tight. I talked the whole thing over with Dad yesterday.”
Hugo did his very best not to glare at Brand, unsure if he believed Jackson was truly sick, or if the entire thing was some elaborate ruse to get Hugo alone. Not that he thought Brand would do anything beyond verbally hound him to talk—which was bad enough in its own way. No, he’d be perfectly safe with Brand and Brutus, and he’d never been all the way out to the far north pasture. It was supposed to be good land with a lot of grass for the herd to graze on, and bringing them back each night was more exercise than the cattle needed. Meat was muscle, after all. Too-lean meat lacked fat and flavor.
“Fine,” Hugo said, not happy with his plan at all, but he was a team player and this job meant everything to him. Maybe he’d failed in reconciling with his mother, and he’d failed at really connecting with Brand, but he’d be damned if he would fail at this job. “Are we ready to go?”
“I am. Mercutio is all packed up with the gear we’ll need. We can start moving the herd at any time.”
“Then let’s get going.”
Moving a herd of forty heads of cattle was a slow process, even with two men on horseback and a dog to nip at their heels. Cattle only ran when startled or in serious danger, and their slow plodding across the vast Woods land took most of the morning. They didn’t stop for lunch, just ate jerky and sandwiches from their saddlebags and washed it down with water from their canteens. Brand took a short break to give Brutus some food and water in a collapsible silicone bowl, while Hugo kept driving the herd forward.
They didn’t reach their destination until late afternoon, dipping close to evening. A good seven hours of riding and Hugo’s ass felt every one of them. Once the herd seemed to settle into a group and begin grazing, Hugo and Brand only had halters on their horses, versus a full bridle and bit, so they could graze easily, too. They’d get oats later, but for now they were free to wander a bit. Brutus kept watch while his human companions began to set up camp near a burbling creek. A few weeks ago, it had probably been dry as a stone, but now it ran with clear water that Brand purified first thing so they each had something cold to drink.
Hugo took a moment to admire this particular bit of wild land. Vast green grass covered hilly terrain, marked here and there by clusters of bushes and scrub trees. Green as far as he could see, with some rockier hills to the west. It reminded him a bit of the ranch he’d grown up on and a sense of melancholy settled in his chest.
“Come on, man,” Brand said. “Let’s collect firewood before it gets too dark. Plus, I’m starving for a real dinner.”
“Yeah, sure.”
They split into different directions to gather wood and had a good fire going in no time. While Brand heated up two cans of beef stew, Hugo hunted through their equipment—and only found one tent. “What the fuck, dude?” Hugo asked.
“What the fuck what?” Brand didn’t even look up, just kept stirring the skillet set on a rack over the fire.
“One tent?”
He shrugged. “Less weight. Plus, if it dips cold we can share body heat.”
Yeah, that was not happening in any scenario. Frustrated and still melancholy, Hugo began to set up the tent. He was about halfway done when Brand presented him with a tin cup full of steaming stew, a spoon, and a piece of toasted bread. Brand’s expression was...well, amused wasn’t right but he was proud of himself for something. Probably the tent more than the stew. Any damned fool could heat up stew, but only a sneaky damned fool set them up to sleep in one tent for three nights.
Since they were out here now and making a fuss wouldn’t help matters, Hugo took his food and settled on the ground near the fire. The evening air was still warm as the sun began to dip low, so he didn’t sit too close. But the scent of grass and burning wood helped relax him as he ate. He loved campfires and bonfires and the way snapping wood created little embers that floated up into the air like fireflies.
Brutus sat nearby gnawing on a rawhide, perfectly content to be back out in the wilds again. The cattle grazed nearby, as did their horses. Hugo didn’t speak and neither did Brand. There really wasn’t much to talk about right then, and Hugo was not in the mood to bring up their roll in the hayloft (so to speak).
Brand finished eating first, washed his cup and the frying pan in the nearby creek, then went about finishing the tent. After Hugo cleaned up and added another log to the fire, he brought the pair of sleeping bags over. They probably wouldn’t need them unless the wind kicked up and it got too chilly—as the wind was prone to do in this area in June.
