Chaps and Hope (Mossy Glenn Ranch 1) (9 page)

Lunch was simple, sandwiches and mac and cheese, but it was nice to have it fixed for them. Carlos had Drake sit at the table and eat with them, and they worked out the finer points of Drake’s job, including his salary and which room he’d be in after they all decided it’d be easier for Drake to bunk at the ranch house. Designed for ranch needs, the house had a small room built off the kitchen that had probably been used for other cooks. When Carlos had been working here before, there hadn’t been the money to hire a cook.

The remaining interviews went well enough, with them deciding on hiring two of the three people immediately. Tomorrow there were more interviews, and Will had already pulled his ads because they’d got more applications than they could handle after a few days.

All in all, Carlos was pleased with the day and the way life was going for them. They’d soon have all the hands hired, and the livestock would be coming in. There was a chicken hut he wanted to fill, and if they got a few dogs and cats, the place really would feel like home. Carlos wanted that for himself and his partners more even than he wanted to make the ranch successful for Nick and his other bosses. He’d do everything he could to see it so.

Chapter Nine

“Aw, hell.” Troy joined Carlos on the porch, a cup of coffee in hand. “Seriously, who the fuck is doing this?” The first time the barns and bunkhouses had been graffiti’d again had been a shock, the second it’d been irritating. Now Troy wanted nothing more than to beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of whoever kept doing it.

“Dunno.” Carlos took a sip of his coffee and glowered as the ranch hands stood pointing at the buildings. “Fucker needs to cut it out. I’m goddamned tired of painting, and the sheriff out here’s useless as teats on a boar hog. He ain’t gonna do nothin’ this time, either.”

“Yup. At least it isn’t a hate crime, I guess,” Troy said, trying to find something positive about the whole thing. He’d expected to find slurs about them being gay but no, all there ever was, was awful spray-painted designs. “Whoever’s doing it sure could use some art classes. He sucks. Or she, whatever. They, probably.”

The screen door squeaked then slammed as Will joined them. He groaned. “Aw, come
on
! I don’t want to paint anything other than my nails ever again!” He turned and pointed at Carlos. “Cameras—I told you after the last time we should get some. I’m going in and researching security cameras, finding out which ones are the best with our budget, then I’m ordering them from Amazon. They have every goddamned thing in the world on Amazon. I could probably buy an effective sheriff there while I’m online.”

Rocky came over and stopped on the second step up. “This shit’s gettin’ old quick, bosses.”

Troy liked Rocky a lot. With her hair cropped so short he could see her scalp, and her stocky, thick build, she could intimidate most anyone who gave her lip—which she did, if any of the cowhands smarted off to her. For the most part, they didn’t. So far their crew was coming together nicely and getting along well.

But Rocky was right. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe no one heard anything.”

Rocky snorted and glared at the hands standing around. “A couple of those guys will fuck anything, which means there’s some screwing goin’ on every night.” She shrugged. “I don’t care, they don’t put on a show for the rest of us, but it can get a little noisy at times. I’m bettin’ it’s the same in the other bunkhouse. People get horny, and there’s those who’re still treatin’ parts of this job like it’s a horny person’s heaven, yanno?”

Carlos stiffened beside him and Troy laid a hand on his shoulder. So far, not a one of their employees had commented on their relationship, and Troy didn’t want to repay that acceptance by delving into others’ personal business. There was, however, a ranch to run.

“Are they fuckin’ around on the job?” Troy asked, pressing his fingers against Carlos’ arm. “We aren’t paying anyone to get laid, so if that’s the case, we need to know. They can fuck around all night unless it’s a problem for others noise-wise, but during the day, they’d better be pulling their share.”

Rocky hesitated for a second, but Troy didn’t know if it was because she was watching the hands or debating whether or not to narc. He couldn’t make her tell if she didn’t want to. Finally she shrugged. “Nope, I’ve not heard anythin’ about anyone messin’ around on the job. Wanted to think on it first to make sure, but the guys I’m thinkin’ of don’t pair up on jobs during the day. Salt don’t let ‘em.”

Saul ‘Salt’ Johnson turned and looked at them as if he’d heard his name spoken, which he couldn’t have considering the distance between them and the cackling and bitching of the cowhands. Troy liked Salt. He was a little older than Carlos, a little rougher and worn-looking. While he could hand out orders like it was nobody’s business, Salt tended to be more of the smiling, easy-going type. The other workers found him an easy man to follow, which made life simpler for everyone on the ranch since Salt followed what orders he’d been given.

Carlos didn’t look happy when he replied. “All right, but if that changes, let us know. We’re gonna have to call the damned sheriff again and report this again. You and Salt get the hands divided up into who gets to paint and who’s working elsewhere and get back with me.”

“I almost think it’s pointless to call the sheriff,” Troy said as they walked inside. “I keep thinking the same thing I did when I stood in the hardware store. Everybody in Ashville likely knows who keep doing this, and I gotta wonder if it isn’t someone who was pissed off at the previous owners. It started before we ever got here.”

“Could be.” Carlos frowned and rubbed his face with his hands. He pushed up too far and knocked his Stetson off, and Troy bent to scoop it up.

The black felt was worn and the hat blocked to perfection. Troy ran a finger around the thin leather band above the brim then he carefully put the hat back on Carlos, tilting it low in front.

There was that dangerous look he liked so much. Carlos was watching him intently, as if Carlos were a rattler waiting to strike the second Troy gave him a chance. Except it wasn’t biting Carlos had in mind—at least not
just
biting. Troy touched the brim of the hat before trailing his fingers down the side of Carlos’ face. He traced the sharp weathered cheek then thumbed the length of Carlos’ jaw. Carlos’ skin fascinated him. The darkly tanned parts of it and the paler lengths. Even those were darker than Troy or Will’s suntanned skin. Troy loved every wrinkle and whisker, every single bit of Carlos, just as he loved Will.

“I like the way you’re tender when you do that.” Carlos placed his hand on Troy’s chest, right over his heart, and Troy’s pulse raced. Carlos’ dark brown eyes were entrancing. Troy couldn’t look away even if doing so would have saved the world. “You got such heart, Troy. Such a big, loving heart. You have no idea how much it means to me that you trust me and Will with it. We’d never break it.” Carlos lowered his head, his lips brushing Troy’s. “I love you.”

They didn’t say the words often enough, Troy decided as he opened for Carlos. He could hear those words every day, all day and never grow tired of them. Could say ’em, too, he thought as Carlos gripped his hips and pulled their groins together.

A second set of arms were around him shortly thereafter, Will pressing up against his back. Troy could feel the warmth of Will’s moist breath below his shoulder blade, heating his skin through his shirt. There was no pressure for more, just the three of them locked into an embrace. Carlos nibbled down his jawline, and eventually Will was tugged between them. Troy and Carlos took turns kissing Will until he was a shivering puddle of need, then Troy had mercy on him and stroked him off with three quick tugs.

“Clean me up then go wipe yourself off.” Troy held his hand up and hissed as Will licked the cum off his skin.

“Jesus.” Carlos watched them and caught Will before he left for the bathroom. Carlos cupped the back of his head and whispered those same three words he’d told Troy. Will simpered and all but climbed up Carlos, mumbling “I love you” over and over.

Some days, even the bad shit couldn’t make a dent in the good.

“The security cameras I ordered should be here by Monday,” Will told them when he came back to join them. Troy put a finger over his lips as he spotted Carlos on the phone. “Sheriff?” Will mouthed around his finger.

Troy nodded and Will sucked his fingertip, giving Troy a devilish grin, then he let the digit pop out of his mouth. Troy would make sure Will paid for that little bit of tease later.

“I know you’re a busy man,” Carlos snapped, “I ain’t asking you to come out here. We’ll take pictures and write up what we see, and unless we find anything suspicious besides the graffiti, we’ll just paint over it again.” Carlos’ features pinched up in a show of anger as he listened. He sounded ready to whale on the sheriff when he spoke again. “I’m only callin’ ’cause I have to, in order to make sure there’s a record of this happening again. I don’t expect you to do jack shit about it.” Carlos hung up the phone and rubbed the nape of his neck. “Jesus Christ, that man is an utter fool. Lazy, obnoxious son of a bitch.”

Will murmured something sympathetic-sounding and hurried over to cuddle Carlos. Troy was thinking about the graffiti and the sheriff’s unwillingness to do anything about it.

“You think it’s someone related to him, maybe?” Troy asked, his thoughts spilling out his mouth. Carlos and Will looked at him like he was a little off, or they were a little confused. “The sheriff, I mean. He doesn’t have any reason to be hating on us. He was a jackass from the get-go.” The first time Sheriff Bowman had come around a week and a half ago, he’d had an attitude, and he’d eyed Troy and Carlos like they were idiots for calling him out.

“It’s just some paint,” Bowman had said. “Won’t be any trouble to cover it up, and there isn’t any evidence left for me to follow up on. Sorry, boys.”

Carlos had just about had an aneurysm over the ‘boys’ part of that. He didn’t like the term at all, and Troy had thought for a second that Carlos was going to rip the sheriff’s head off.

“He just doesn’t give a shit about this,” Troy said, gesturing towards the barns. “He doesn’t seem particularly hateful, just…like he doesn’t care. Les would have a shit-fit if he heard about this.”

“Les would beat some sense into the asshole,” Carlos muttered. “Maybe we can get him to take some time off from policing in Texas so he can come up here to Montana and show the sheriff how a lawman ought to do his job.”

“Les would sure as shit do it.” Troy could just picture their friend Les explaining to Sheriff Bowman how to do his job. Les was huge, and serious as a heart attack. Troy had heard the guy’d never even smiled until a whirlwind of a man by the name of Adam had swept him off his feet. But Les was still a cop who didn’t take shit from anyone.

“But he ain’t here, and we get Sheriff Bowman.” Carlos huffed then seemed to shake off his funk. “Well, regardless, we got barns to paint. I’ll be glad when we can hire some more hands. Make this shit go quicker.”

“I’ve got the other applications we never got to,” Will offered.

Troy knew the answer before Carlos spoke.

Carlos shook his head. “Nope, no can do yet. We’re budgeted for six, and we added a cook to that, so we won’t be hiring more hands until we start generating some profits. At least, we won’t be hiring any more full-time ones.”

For some reason, Troy thought of Fred Jr at the hardware store. He hadn’t seen the kid again—
no, he’s an adult. I’m just old and think of everyone under twenty-five as a kid.
Troy had kind of hoped Fred would get out from under whatever hell he might be living in, but that was just it. He didn’t know for sure that Fred was being abused. It was only a feeling in his gut, but he couldn’t shake it. Yet for all he knew, Fred had already flown the coop and found a better life.

“We’re gonna need more paint.”

Damn, Troy would swear sometimes that Carlos knew what he was thinking. Troy cocked his head and tried to figure out if he was that transparent. “You want me to go get it?”

Will held up a hand, gesturing as he was wont to do. “Drake needed stuff from the store. I can go with Troy and get that, and Drake can help do whatever.”

Troy tried his best not to smirk as he asked, “Afraid we got enough paint left for a few people to get started?”

Will snorted. “I know we do. There’s a full can left from last time, and yeah, I am wussing out on the painting. I always get it all over myself.”

“That’s because you rush and don’t wring the roller out enough. Slings paint all every which way,” Troy told him for probably the tenth time.

Will’s smile stretched wide and Troy knew Will was fixing to offer what he thought was a convincing argument. “Drake could probably do it waaaaaaaaaay better than me.”

That actually wasn’t a bad argument at all. Troy glanced at Carlos, who gave the barest grin. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Go square it away with Drake. We can’t head out for an hour or so, though. Hardware store won’t be open until eight-thirty.”

Will squealed and clapped his hands. “Yay! That’s fine, I can find a way to keep myself busy that isn’t painting-related until we leave, like helping Drake get our breakfast fixed.”

It was probably already done. Drake tended to get up earlier than any of them and have their morning meal waiting for them. Troy frowned. “I didn’t see Drake in the kitchen.”

Carlos frowned too. “He made coffee.”

“No, I did that actually. Drake was on the phone and I told him I’d handle coffee duty while he dealt with whoever he was talking to.” Now Will frowned as well. “He looked like he was teary-eyed, but I thought it was because he’d just woken up. That was a while ago. Weird that he hasn’t come out of his room. I’d better go check on him.”

“I’ll start on breakfast,” Troy offered, looking at Carlos. “Unless you need me to help you get the chores sorted out.”

“I’m sure Salt and Rocky got ’em assigned to the right people.” Carlos held up his cup. “I wouldn’t mind some fresh, if it’s not too troublesome.”

“As if. We all need a truckload of coffee to get going.” Troy took the cup. “I’ll bring it out to you as soon as it’s done.”

In the kitchen, Troy heard occasional murmurs coming from Drake’s room. He guessed whatever the call had been about, it’d been bad. At least he didn’t hear any sobbing.

Troy got the coffee on then found some canned biscuits and a package of bacon. He got both on cookie sheets and put in the oven. He’d make eggs, too, but it wouldn’t take long to scramble them. Anyone wanting over easy was up shit creek. Troy always broke the yolk no matter how hard he tried not to.