Page 17 of His Fresh Start Cowboy
Maybe he had a true ally in this push-pull he was playing with Brand.
Time would tell.
Chapter Six
The next two weeks passed, easing February into March, and Brand couldn’t figure out what game Hugo was playing. After being pushy and challenging during his first week at the ranch, now he was keeping his distance. Being as professional as possible at all times. He turned down Mom’s invitations to Sunday dinners, avoided Brand whenever he came out to the barn, and kept his answers to questions clipped and unemotional.
What the fuck is he playing at?
Brand didn’t know but the little shit was irritating the hell out of him. After lunch on Monday, he found Hugo alone in the barn, mucking Mercutio’s stall—Rem had apparently been in a big Shakespeare kick when they bought and named him. It was Rem’s day off, and Jackson was out in the pastures checking the herds. They really needed to hire another temporary employee until Alan’s hand healed, which wouldn’t be for another few weeks. But calving season was coming up, and they already had three temps lined up to help with that work. They could stick it out for a few more weeks.
He watched the way Hugo’s entire body got into the motions of shoveling through the shit and hay, and then twisted at the waist to dump it into the wheelbarrow. The way his ass filled out his jeans—nope. “Ahem.”
Hugo yelped in an adorable way and spun around, shovel half-raised as if ready to strike. “Christ, Brand, you scared the shit out of me.”
“Sorry.” Not sorry. “You about done?”
“Yes, sir.” He turned back to the stall.
“Really? Then why have you been avoiding me?”
“You made it very clear this is a boss-employee relationship,sir. That’s how I’m treating it, too. Can I finish my work?”
Brand flinched as his own attitude was tossed back in his face. First, all Hugo wanted to do was talk, and now nothing? “Fine. Have you seen Brutus around? He’s usually at the house for lunch, begging for scraps.” It didn’t worry him none. Brutus might have followed Jackson and Dog out into the fields, but it continued his conversation with Hugo.
“Not since early this morning.” Hugo glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll keep an eye out for him, though. Probably out there chasing steer with Dog.”
“That’s what I figure, too. Um, see you later, then.”
“Yeah.”
Unused to being so bluntly dismissed by his own employee, Brand turned and headed out the main barn doors. He debated going back to his office, versus maybe taking a long walk to clear his head and think, when the sound of galloping hoofbeats turned his head to the west. Jackson was riding in like a bat out of hell, Dog not far behind with her tongue lolling out.
The closer Jackson got, the higher Brand’s heartbeat rose. Something furry was draped across the saddle in front of Jackson.
“No,” Brand said. “Brutus!” He started running. Behind him, Hugo shouted, asking what was wrong. But Brand only had eyes for his dog, who shouldn’t be weak enough to be carried like that. Not unless something was very wrong.
“Get a truck!” Jackson shouted. “He needs to see Dr. Joe stat!”
Brand glanced over his shoulder, grateful to see Hugo changing direction and heading for one of the ranch’s work trucks. They kept keys on top of the sun visor so anyone could use one who needed to. Jackson pulled his horse to an ungraceful stop, and Brand saw the blood all over Brutus’s coat. “Fucking hell, what happened?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Jackson replied. “He followed us out first thing, but then I lost track of him. Figured he was off scenting a missing steer and he’d be back to lead us to him. Then Dog took off, and I followed her. Brutus must have gotten into a fight with a coyote or something, because we found him like this. He’s alive, man, but he’s weak.”
Brand fought back furious tears as he eased his dog out of Jackson’s saddle and into his own arms. Brutus was heavy, but Brand had raised him from a pup, and he wasn’t letting go now. “I’ve got you, boy, I’ve got you.”
Brutus whined, and the sound nearly broke Brand’s heart.
Hugo sped over with the pickup, the back wheels kicking up dirt and dust. He leaned across the bench seat and shoved the passenger door open. With some help from Jackson, Brand got inside with his dog in his lap. One of Brutus’s brown eyes blinked at him, seeming to ask what was going to happen. And also ask if he was a good boy.
“You’ll be fine, buddy, just fine,” Brand said. “Hugo, take the road to town. I’ll give you directions to the vet’s office.”
“Okay.” Hugo sped off, face set and determined. “He’ll be all right, Brand. Believe that.”
“Yeah.” He petted Brutus’s smooth muzzle, hating all the cuts on his beautiful coat. All the blood soaking into Brand’s own clothes. “Fuck.”
A strong hand squeezed his shoulder. “Come on, pal, keep it together.”
Since Brand wasn’t sure if he could speak without crying—this was his dog, damn it!—he only nodded and kept his focus on Brutus. When Hugo reached the end of the ranch road and the state road to town, he found the strength to say, “There’s a blanket under the front seat. Can you give it to me?”
