Austin knelt, his face shielded from me by the brim of his hat. “Bet you’d say age is just a number, huh, Patch? Judge a man or a dog by what he can do.” Patch rolled over for a belly rub and Austin provided one, then stood. “Well, I’m off. Good luck with your, uh, winter.”
“And with yours.” I held out my hand, and after a second, he gripped it firmly.
“Thanks. See you.” He whirled and strode out toward the drive. Patch trotted alongside him for a hundred feet beforeturning and coming back. Austin walked on, his head high, his back straight.
I had plenty of chores I could be doing, but I stood there at the bottom of the steps and watched the kid go.
He’d be fine, of course. He’d get his car fixed and drive off to Tolberg and find a job in some store, selling holiday crap. I might see him if I went into town to pick up a gift.
He’d be fine. He’d turned down a lift. Turned down money.
There was no reason that, as his slim frame got smaller and smaller down that road, I had the impression Austin was vanishing not just from my sight, but from the world.
Chapter 3
Austin
Shit, shit, shit.I mouthed the word as I walked down the lane away from the ranch. Cursing helped keep my back straight and my feet moving. I thought I felt eyes on me, but I wouldn’t look back.
I hadn’t expected to be hired on permanently, not in November, but I guess I couldn’t help hoping. Even for just a few days’ labor, something to put money in my pocket and get me farther on my way.
Come back in Marchwas a pretty solidno thanks, though.
So now what?
I could hike back to Selbyville, maybe. Except I’d been there, done that. No one wanted an eighteen-year-old with no real skills and nowhere to stay. No car, no phone— I couldn’t even do pizza delivery. What did people do when they had nothing?
Some of them stood on street corners with a sign. “Homeless. Every little bit helps.” Maybe with a religious “God Bless You,”even though studies showed atheists were more generous to strangers. I’d given those folks money a time or two, but I couldn’t imagine begging myself. I’d rather starve. Or at least I thought so with a little food still in my belly. I guess if I was really starving, I’d lose my scruples.
I might find out soon enough.
There were no available street corners around, anyway. The Star & Bar’s lane opened out onto the paved road, but no traffic passed me as I trudged along the shoulder. The ranch might be the only property around here.
Selbyville had a main drag, but I flinched even harder at the thought of begging somewhere Seth might see me. Something about Seth made him loom large in my head. Not his actual size. He only topped me by two or three inches, and while he was muscular, he wasn’t wide. Not our contrast in age, either. I mean, yeah, he was probably in his early thirties, his curly blond hair making him seem younger, the lines beside his eyes arguing for older, but Mr. Bowen was bigger and beefy and pushing sixty. And yet, it was still Seth’s approval I’d wanted most.
So not Selbyville.
Maybe I could hitch. Catch a ride to somewhere farther away, figure out a plan there, with a cardboard sign the last resort and sucking dick as maybe second-last. Hitchhiking wasn’t quite begging. More like paying it forward. I’d picked up a couple of hikers myself— schoolmates of mine— though Dad would’ve killed me if he knew I let a near-stranger in his car.
I almost missed the turnoff to my truck, the way I was sunk in futile planning. Tilly’s colors camouflaged her in the woods, but I remembered at the last minute and followed the rutted track back into the trees. Reaching the truck brought both comfort and despair. I unlocked her door and swung into the seat, setting aside my smaller pack.
Pulling the door shut locked out the wind, but not the chill. I wrapped my sleeping bag around me and closed my eyes. I could simply sit, not move. Except I wasn’t ready to pee myself and starve to death. I could hike back to the ranch and throw myself on their mercy. I hated the idea of looking weak like that in front of Seth with the fire of a thousand suns. So what else?
The highway was nine miles off, from the sign I’d passed at the base of the ranch drive. I could manage that in a couple of hours, since there was no snow on the ground. I’d find a place to hitch. Anywhere had to be better than here, decaying in my truck.
Decision made.
Time to pack what I could carry and go.
Minutes passed.
I hated leaving the truck, not just for practical reasons, but because Joe gave her to me. She was both refuge and concrete proof there were good people in the world. Maybe I could beg some gas at the ranch… but that brought me back to begging from Seth again.
No. I sat up and rolled my sleeping bag as best I could, tying it to the bottom of my bigger pack. I’d have to leave some of my gear and my saddle. I thought about lugging the saddle back to the Star & Bar, trying to sell it. Thought about Seth buying it just to be kind, or Mr. Bowen firmly telling me thanks but no thanks. Then I’d have to lug it back here again…
My head spun from lack of sleep and lack of food. I needed to move before I wasn’t able to. I made sure my pack was secure, opened Tilly’s door, and slid out. Cold wind hit me again, but I was dressed for it. I had my good parka, warm gloves, layers on. I’d be fine. I’d put on my knit hat and I tried to cram my Stetson over it, but the pressure was too tight. Reluctantly, I left the Stetson on the seat for the sake of my ears.
I wasn’t a cowboy anymore, anyhow.
