“Let’s start at the back end of the ranch,” said Leland, again questioning his motives. He usually had a ranch hand do the general tour, then would meet with the new hire at the end of that to have a final meeting about rules and expectations. This time, he wanted to do part of the tour himself to share with Jamie the beauty of the ranch.
Jamie nodded, and after they grabbed their hats from the wooden pegs, he followed Leland out of the dining hall. Together they walked along the shaded path that curved between the trees, up past the barn to the first corral. Cottonwoods and willows grew along the tributary of Horse Creek that ran through the property, but the slope at this end of the ranch was decked with pine and aspen both, and the breeze was sweetly scented.
Briskly, Leland described the layout of the ranch, starting with the corral.
“Notice the unpainted wood, Jamie. You won’t be asked to paint it, because unpainted wood seasons better. The round rails between round posts are not the most efficient, but look nice and it’s what guests at the ranch expect.”
Jamie nodded, stuffing his hands in the back pocket of his new jeans. He looked a little lost in his new clothes, as though the fit was just a bit too big. The jeans, especially, would shrink in the wash, though. Leland clamped down on the impulse to take Jamie to the laundry room in the staff quarters to get that process started.
“We mostly do riding lessons in the corral,” said Leland, pointing to the area. “But sometimes, if the group of guests might like it, Brody comes out and does some of his rope tricks, and demos his fancy riding with his special saddle.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He’s about your age,” said Leland, mentally shaking his head, because why was he talking about age at all? “Maybe a little older. Best wrangler I’ve ever worked with.”
Moving on from the corral, Leland pointed out the acres of open fields behind the barbed wire fence, some of which belonged to the ranch, and some of which belonged to the Bureau of Land Management. They were always careful not to leave any trace behind, so the BLM had never given them any grief about taking long cattle drives across their land into the hills. It was a truce of long standing Leland was proud of, as was Bill.
“The barn’s this way,” said Leland, pointing down the road.
He led the way and took Jamie inside to show him the large area where horses were groomed, or where demonstrations could be held when the weather was bad. There was a row of box stalls along two walls, and a large tack room whose open door showed neatly arranged saddles and other tack and grooming supplies.
“That’s my office, over there.” He pointed to the corner of the barn, just to the side of the big open doors. “I’ll hand you to Clay in a minute, when he gets here,” he said, inhaling the scent of dried hay and leather oil, which helped to settle him some.
“Clay?” asked Jamie.
“Clay Pullman’s my right-hand man,” said Leland with a nod, for he didn’t know what he’d do without Clay. “He’ll show you the cabins along the river, and all the other nooks and crannies, and the laundry room in the staff quarters, where you can wash your clothes. There’s a box of quarters next to the soap, so you don’t need to worry about paying.”
“It’s free?” asked Jamie. “Doesn’t anybody steal the quarters?”
In Jamie’s world, it was easy to see, any money left out got taken. Here, on the ranch, there was plenty of everything, and no sense of want.
“No, they don’t,” Leland said. “Sure, sometimes the final count at the end of the week means we’d gone low a quarter or two. But the ranch hands and everybody who uses the machines usually leave their spare change, so it all works out in the wash, so to speak.”
There were purple smudges under Jamie’s eyes as he looked at Leland, though he tried to smile like everything was fine, just fine, and that nobody needed to worry about him. Then his exhaustion seemed to overcome him, as though this small display had tapped the last of his energy.
“You okay, Jamie?” Leland asked. He wanted to gently push for the answer, but Clay came up twirling his straw cowboy hat in his hands, whistling under his breath.
“This is Clay,” said Leland. “Clay, this is Jamie Decker, our new groundskeeper and general ranch hand.”
“I’m a ranch hand?” asked Jamie, now lighting up in a way that was hard for Leland to look away from.
“That you are,” said Leland, secretly pleased at Jamie’s response. “You’re just starting, but if you listen to what Clay tells you, you will do very well, I’m sure of it. You got this, Clay? Show him the ropes, now. Show him everything he needs to know.”
“Can do, boss,” said Clay. With a bright smile, he put his hat back on and clapped Jamie on the shoulder in a friendly way. “I’ll take good care of him.”
“Make sure he knows how to take breaks and drink enough water.” Leland turned his attention to Jamie. “We’re up at altitude here, so it’s easy to get dehydrated. That’s why we’ve got coolers of bottled water set out at various places. If you’re working out of doors, you’ll see one. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” said Jamie, wide eyed.
With a small wave, Leland bid them farewell and went up the path between the trees and the buildings to the little cabin tucked in the hillside that was all his own. The cabin had a porch where he could sit and watch the sunsets, if he had the time, and a small flagstone patio in the back where he could watch the sunrise over the low hills and have his coffee in the morning.
Or, like now, he could hang up his keys on the little hook on the wall just inside the front door, pull off his work boots and cowboy hat, yank off his socks, and walk barefooted into the small cafe kitchen. There he could grab a bottle of ice cold locally-brewed root beer and drink it with the fridge door standing wide open. Now, in his own place, he was no longer the ranch manager, or the boss of anyone, didn’t need to be on his best game or set a good example.
He sucked back half of a bottle of root beer before taking a single, gasping breath after he swallowed it down. This was one of his favorite moments of the day, when he was just Leland, just a guy who loved his mom and who loved working out of doors. A guy who loved root beer and sunsets and sunrises and the way the chinook winds rushed down from Iron Mountain as though on their way to someplace new and exciting. Leaving behind the sweet, pure scent of spring and growth and green.
Amidst all of that, like a strange, leaf-rustling breeze, came thoughts of Jamie Decker. Who, with his dark bronze-touched hair and bright green eyes, seemed to be cutting a shape for himself in Leland’s world, changing his vision of it. Leland imagined Jamie pushing his hair out of his eyes, shocked at the idea that he had any effect on Leland, because how could he, being so newly arrived?
But he did have an effect, and the results were already there, for anyone to see. For starters, Leland had changed his mind about hiring drifters, which he never thought he’d ever do. Then he’d tended to Jamie after he’d been sick, like he’d known Jamie for years instead of only a few hours. And now he was worried about Jamie on his tour with Clay.
