“Just for that, I won’t make you any, infant.”
I caught a little curve of Austin’s lips, a hint of a smile at their bickering. Maybe he’d fit in with us just fine.
“What’s the plan for the day, boss?” Colby asked me.
“First off, I’ll take Austin to see if we can get his truck started. You take a four-wheeler and do the perimeter. Davis, get the stalls.” Mucking was hard work, but it was warmer in the barnthan out. Davis didn’t tell anyone he had arthritis starting, but I saw how he moved on cold mornings. “After that, John told me to move a couple of grazing strips.”
“We’re a day early,” Davis pointed out.
“Yeah, but like the boss said, there’s a storm coming tonight, supposed to go through the day tomorrow. We’ll put out some hay too, get the heifers and beefs safely onto fresh grazing before the worst of the snow starts.”
“Got it.” Davis began clearing the table.
Austin jumped up and grabbed the rest of the plates. “Here, let me. Dad always says—” He cut himself off short.
Davis gave him a nod. “Take ’em into the kitchen and I’ll handle it from there. Boss is particular ’bout how his dishwasher’s loaded.” He jerked his chin at Colby. “Good to see a young guy with manners, unlike that brat.”
“I have lots of manners,” Colby protested. “Oodles of manners. For the guys who deserve them.”
Austin paled and stepped back, but Davis just laughed and carried his load to the kitchen.
Twenty minutes passed before we were on the road in my truck— Austin and me and a five-gallon gas can. He broke his silence to ask, “Are Colby and Davis…”
“Are they what?”
“Anything? To each other?”
“You mean, like together? Nah. Davis was married for a lot of years, till his wife got tired of how remote we are.” He’d loved the life more than he loved her, I figured. They’d never had kids to keep them together. “Colby’s a player, got a new girl all the time. Far as I know, they’re both straight.” Colby had come along after Miguel and Zachary were gone, but Davis had never reacted to any of Miguel’s flirting. “They just like giving each other shit.”
“Ah. Okay.”
“Don’t worry. After five years, neither of them means what they say.” I steered along the unplowed road, fording the occasional deeper drift. A few inches was just an inconvenience, but a heavy fall could cut us off for days. “Where did you say you’re parked?”
“It’s harder to tell with the snow.” He squinted around. “I don’t think we missed it. There was a dirt track off into a field and around behind some trees.”
“I think I know the spot.” I drove another two hundred yards. “There’s a track coming up on the left.”
“Yes. There.” He pointed at a stand of pines.
At first, I couldn’t see anything. I steered off the road, keeping my truck moving slow and easy in case we hit unexpected ice. Fifty feet in, the track curved and I saw an old rusted pickup, canted just a little to one side.
I pulled up behind the tailgate and we both got out. I passed Austin a scraper. “Get the snow and ice off the windows and pop the filler door for me. I’ll get some gas in it.”
“Yessir.” Austin blinked hard and looked away. He scurried to the front door, unlocked it with an actual key, and tugged the handle for the fuel hatch.
I poured in a steady stream of gas and surveyed the truck as Austin swept the snow off. The Ford was probably twenty years old and made of more rust than metal. The paint had been touched up with primer over and over, so what body there was had been well camouflaged in mottled gray and forest green. A tarp strapped over the load bed hid whatever Austin brought with him in the back, and large and small backpacks sat on the driver’s seat.
Austin caught me looking. “I had a few things at the ranch where I worked. Should’ve thought ahead and made it more, but a couple changes of clothes, my winter jacket, boots, my hat and saddle. Joe threw in some gloves and this beanie, socks, stuffout of the lost and found box. I found a paperback under the seat when I was, well, digging for coins, so I had something to read. Joe’d kept actual old school maps in the door pocket.” He shrugged. “Took me a bit to get the hang of those. Spoiled by GPS.”
“You young ’uns,” I intoned, trying to make him laugh, but he just shrugged.
“She’s everything I’ve got.”
I turned the gas cap till it clicked and shut the cover. “Right. She should have gas now. See if she’ll start.”
Austin shifted his stuff to the other seat and got behind the wheel. I stepped back a foot as he cranked the ignition. The truck whined showing the battery wasn’t totally dead, but didn’t catch. “Come on,” he muttered, trying again. “Come on, come on, Tilly, don’t be a stone-cold bitch.” The whirring came softer and less effectively. “Sorry, Tilly, baby, come on.”
“Tilly?” I asked.
