Page 14 of Brim Over Boot
I grumble and grab my nippers. “I’m notobsessedwith him. I just…can’t escape him, you know? He’s everywhere I look. In town. At the store. In the damnnewspaper.”
“It’s a small town,” Remi points out. “You’ve met his uncle before, haven’t you? Walter King?”
I think back. “Did he used to work at the post office?”
“Yep.”
I nod idly, using the rasp to even out Clementine’s hoof now that I’ve trimmed and tidied it. Heel to toe diagonally in one direction, toe to heel in the other.
I do remember Walter. He was a nice man, and it’s only now I realize I haven’t seen him in what—years? Why is that?
And why does Noah live with his uncle? Can he not afford his own place?
Guilt momentarily rears before I shake it off. I live at home, too. It’s probably no big deal.
“Wanna go to The Barrel tonight?” I ask my brother. When he looks over, I can tell he missed part of that, so I add a signed,‘Drinks in town?’
“Why not here?” he asks, cutting the strings off a fresh bale of hay. He uses a pitchfork to fling portions of it into the empty stalls he cleaned. I watch for a moment, impressed with his aim.
When Remi meets my eye, I shrug as best as I can from my position. “Dunno. Just wanna get out.”
Truth be told, I’m feeling antsy. I like hanging out here, sitting around the bonfire behind Jackson’s place, drinking whiskey and catching up with my brothers. But sometimes, like now, there’s this restless urge beneath my skin that has me itching to move. To do something reckless. Maybe find a girl for the night and chase the high that seems so elusive and fleeting, gone by the time the morning sun comes up. It’d feel less meaningless, I’m sure, if I could find a woman I want to settle down with.
But Darling, Montana—like Remi said—is not a big place. And, with the exception of the occasional new townsperson like Ash, most of the fresh faces we get here are only passing through.
So a night is likely all I’ll get.
I know I have Remi on board when he shakes his head with a look of fond exasperation on his face. “Yeah, all right. We’ll head into town.”
I hiss a “Yes,” and Remi chuckles softly.
My brother leaves the barn before I’m done shoeing Clementine, likely to head over to the petting farm or take a break back at the house. I use my rasp to smooth down the outside of Clementine’s hooves, having already hammered in and crimped the nails that keep her shoes on tight. I make sure each hoof is pristine and then hem the bottom edges with the rasp, creating a small groove against the metal that’ll make the shoe easier to remove next time.
Done, I reward Clementine with a good brushing and some dates from Jackson’s stash in the tack room.
“We’ll go riding tomorrow,” I promise her, since I still have a few of the other ranch horses on my schedule for today. She kicks her head up in acknowledgement. “In or out?”
In answer, Clementine whinnies and trots toward the barn door. With a chuckle, I follow her, double-checking that all the gates on the perimeter fence are shut before letting her loose and getting back to work.
Yeah. I have a good feeling about tonight.
TheBarrelisn’taparticularly large establishment. Wooden casks flank both sides of the front door, each filled with bright yellow flowers now that winter has sloughed off. Inside, conversation flows and glasses clink, the noise loud to even my ears. Remi pulls out his phone, adjusting the volume settings on his processor.
Luckily, two stools open up at the bar as soon as we arrive. We snag them before anyone else can.
“Hello, gentlemen,” Virginia says, setting a couple napkins down on the bar top in front of us. “Just you two tonight?”
Virginia, in addition to being The Barrel’s primary bartender, is Ash’s closest friend from way back when. I have a feeling I know who she’s really asking after.
“Considering your friend was eyefucking my brother all dinner long, I didn’t bother asking them to tag along,” I tell her, signing the words as I speak for Remi’s benefit.
He snorts softly, and Virginia’s lips twitch.
“Sounds about right,” she allows. “And Lawson?”
“Declined,” I reply.
Truth is Lawson has been pretty down lately, ever since his wife Laura asked for a divorce. I hate seeing him so upset, but he doesn’t seem to want me—or anyone—to cheer him up right now.
