Page 56 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
Detaching the mixer’s bowl, I dumped it into the sink and filled it with soapy water. Maybe I’d just go into town and pick something up from the bakery. A couple dozen bear claws might do the trick.
Tossing both rags into the bucket, I walked out of the kitchen. I loved cooking, but I was no professional. Long time ago, I figured out that if cooking wasn’t cooperating on any givenday, I needed to just call it quits. That’s why I kept premade casseroles in the freezer as backup.
After tossing on a shirt and boots, I walked slowly to the living room, grabbed the truck keys, and pushed outside. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going; we were all so buried in our own brains lately that I’d be back before my absence was noticed anyways.
Come on, Eros. Live up to your damn name. Live up to your damn promises.
Don’t make my choice the earthquake that tears my pack apart.
When I was inside the older of our trucks, I cranked it up and settled against the springy bench seat. The Ford vibrated heavily, bad engine mounts we couldn’t be bothered with because it had too many other issues at its age. I shifted into gear and headed out.
I’d really seen the Institute’s name as a sign. Eros, God of Love. Cupid. Amor.
Couldn’t go wrong with branding like that, right?
Joke was on me.
This situation wasn't like my other impulse purchases. The drone that lasted three days before Wade shot it out of the sky, thinking it was a pesky bird near the chicken coop. Couldn’t fault him, damn thing was made to look like a hawk. Didn’t think that one through at all. The hall linen closet didn’t hold towels anymore, since it was completely stuffed with things I’d bought far too early for the new house. Drunk one night, I’d bought a dirt bike off a social media ad. Hundred bucks. A steal. Turned out to be the perfect size for a G.I. Joe. The high-end espresso machine gathering dust in the attic. Thank my lucky stars that I’d been able to cancel the hot tub before it was delivered. I’d ordered the damn thing before Eros went South, even been annoyed when a two-month delay email arrived. Turned out tobe a blessing. I couldn’t imagine the look on my pack brothers’ faces if that shit had shown up.
Those were jokes, really. Ways for me to make the others roll their eyes and call me an idiot while secretly enjoying whatever ridiculous thing I'd brought home.This was different. This was me trying to do something real, something permanent and meaningful for all of us.
And I was failing.
So, yeah, I understood Wyatt on a deeply personal level now.
I had to see the poorly hidden flickers of disappointment in their expressions every day when I told them ‘no news isn’t necessarily bad news’. I had to hear wistfulness and worry in their voices anytime the subject of an Omega came up. I had to watch them lose their shit at minor inconveniences, when they all used to take issues in stride.
“Ain’t nothing but a thing.”Wade’s casual, calm dismissal during a crisis.
“Sun comes up no matter what.”Boone, always circling back to nature for balance.
“Fucking sucks. Let’s handle it.”Wyatt, going into leader mode.
“I’ll run numbers.”Levi, ready to quantify and calculate until he got an answer.
Currently, Levi worried me most. Levi with his meticulous ledgers and careful planning, who had been increasingly distant. I think this time my thoughtless spending without discussion was really eating at him. I knew he was feeling redundant lately. Unimportant since we didn’t need his accounting sorcery to stay afloat. Think he felt my wild spending combined with not asking the others, was a personal slap in the face. It wasn’t though. I just… did shit in the moment. I didn’t think about tomorrow.
I saw a pricey ass shirt with a great front pocket and my brain went, “Levi would look great in this. Lots of room for pencils.” IfI happened upon gourmet jerky Boone could toss in a pack to eat during one of his disappearing acts, the price was the last thing I worried about. And so it went—gag gifts for the twins, early Christmas presents stashed under my bed, farm equipment that might make a job easier.
“Got to get better about that,” I spoke the words out loud, the truck’s rearview mirror playing witness as I glanced up to star into my own damn eyes. “You keep telling them the money belongs to the pack, yet you spend it without consulting anyone. It’s bullshit, Coop.”
My gaze flooded with judgement.
As I turned the steering wheel to navigate a curve in the bumpy road, I felt myself spiraling once again into self-loathing.
Tookabout an hour to manage the round trip into town. I pulled back onto our property armed with bear claws, sourdough blueberry muffins, and custard tarts. Hell, I knew it was a flimsy offering. Fucking pastries couldn’t fix the problem. I had to keep trying though. Until recently, my degree hadn’t helped a damn bit to keep the ranch going. Freaking B.S. in Environmental Horticulture.
I’d felt a bit selfish after returning to Pinedale after college. I was supposed to go to school, study something beneficial to a cattle ranch. I’d just not been interested in animal breeding or agricultural business or basic farm management. Besides, Levi was the business guy. Wade knew more about livestock than any college boy. And ranching ran through Wyatt’s marrow. Though Boone’s degree—Sustainable food practices, coupledwith Bioenergy systems—was in the same vein as mine, he didn’t have my inflexibility issue. He was a work horse, more than willing to put aside personal aspirations to be in our pack and honor Sagebrush’s original legacy. Sure, he was now diving in full force with the greenhouses and laying out new planting fields, but he’d contentedly waited for a time when it was good for our whole pack.
He put me to shame.
Though, I’d never regret that my college path meant sitting next to Boone in a lot of lectures. I’d fallen for him. Levi had fallen for him once they met. And Boone fell for both of us. Back then, I’d had zero doubt he’d fit right in at Sagebrush. And I’d been right.
Thigs had changed though. I couldn’t just act goofy, look hot, and offer up pies to balance out my nonsense. Now that Wyatt was on board with expanding into crops, I’d make sure I was worth having in the pack. Not just a clown in rubber boots and duck boxers.
I turned off the ignition, lingering for a moment, then I pushed out into the bright sunlight.
As predicted, no one seemed to realize I’d left. Wyatt was, once again, in the training paddock with the new horse—don’t know how he was putting so much time and effort into the gift I’d bought a nonexistent Omega, that shit would depress me—and Wade was carrying a small calf across the yard towards the smaller paddock reserved for heifers, along with new mommas and their young. We had one cow ready to burst soon, but the calf he carried now was probably a month old, about the size of Tater. Maybe needed bottle feeding. We’d had a few mothers not take to nursing over the last year.
