My stomach tightened. "What did he say?"
"Wanted to know if you’d quit yet. I told him you were sticking it out."
"And?"
"He seemed... surprised. Not impressed, really. Just surprised." Z’s voice softened. "How are you actually doing, man? And don't give me the bit. You sound different."
"Different how?"
"Happier. Less... hollow."
Hollow.That was the word. Dallas Beau was a shell. Ranch Beau was... filling in.
"I am happier," I admitted, looking out at the endless green horizon. "It’s weird. I wake up early, I smell like a barn, I get chased by poultry, and somehow... I like it."
"That’s called finding a purpose, my friend."
"Purpose is exhausting."
"But worth it?"
I looked over at Winnie, who was wrestling a hose by the barn, laughing as water sprayed her boots.
"Yeah," I said. "Worth it."
"Good. Keep it up. And hey... I saw the post. You looked like you were having actual fun."
"I was."
"I gotta run, but Beau? I’m proud of you. For real."
"Thanks, Z."
He hung up, and I stood there for a moment, the phone warm in my hand. Z was proud. Pops was proud.
"You comin' or what?" Winnie yelled from the barn. "I’m not doin' all the cleanup while you have a moment!"
"I’m not having a moment!"
"You’re staring at the sky! That’s a moment!"
I jogged over to her, grinning. "Fine. I was having a moment. Sue me."
"No time for lawsuits. We got—oh shit, Beau, behind you!"
I spun around.
Pickles.
The rooster stood ten feet away, head cocked, eyes black and soulless. He ruffled his feathers, lowered his head, and charged.
"NOPE!" I yelled, dropping the bucket I was holding and sprinting for the fence.
"RUN, CITY BOY!" Winnie cackled, climbing the gate to safety.
I scrambled over the fence just as Pickles slammed into the wood, crowing his victory.
New Beau was evolving. But he was definitely still terrified of chickens.
