“If you find yourself in need of help or confused about what goes on around here, Larry, our lead ranch hand, is going to be your guide.” I patted the old guy on the shoulder, keeping the smile on my face. “He’s fair and trustworthy, I can promise you that. Any questions?”
A few hands went up hesitantly. I nodded toward a stocky guy in his thirties with a patchy beard.
“What kind of work will we be doing exactly?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft for his size.
“Everything,” I replied honestly. “Cattle work, fence repair, hay baling when the season’s right. We’re a working ranch, so whatever needs doing, you’ll be doing it.” I gestured toward the expanse of land around us. “Two thousand acres doesn’t maintain itself.”
“Do we get any full days off?” asked another man, this one tall and lanky with tattoos peeking out from under his collar.
Before I could answer, Dad stepped forward. “You get Sunday afternoons free after church, and one Saturday a month if you’ve earned it with good behavior and hard work.” His tone made it clear this was non-negotiable. “This ain’t a vacation, boys.”
I noticed the youngest one still hadn’t looked up from his boots. He seemed almost afraid to breathe too loudly. To his left was another man that I hadn’t really noticed until my eye caught his cheap cowboy hat. I looked up at him and my breath caught.
He was tall and fairly muscular with a jaw that could cut steel. His hair was dark, and he had a pair of brown eyes that looked like they had once been filled with warmth. He didn’t have any tattoos from what I could see, but I found myself catching hints of scars here and there. Clearly, he’d led a hard life.
But what got me the most was the way his eyes raked down my body as he glanced my way. I couldn’t help the tiniest bit of a grin pulling at the corner of my lips. He was like me. And not only that, but an ex-con was a red flag, the thing I loved most.
Now I hadn’t made it a point of trying to get with the parolees since I figured they’d been through enough and there was some conflict of interest. But it happened now and again. They were always fun, always willing, andalwaysgood at keeping secrets. I made my mind up right there and then that I wanted this guy. I flashed him a small smile, and he looked back at the dirt quickly.
He might not know it yet, but the game had started.
“Any other questions?” I asked, scanning their faces.
When no one else spoke up, I nodded to Larry. “Alright then. Larry will show you to your bunks and get you situated. Lunch is at noon in the mess hall. Work starts tomorrow at first light, so I suggest you rest up today and get your bearings.”
As Larry led them toward the bunkhouse, Dad turned to me with a grudging nod.
“Not bad,” he admitted, which from him was high praise. “Could’ve been firmer on the rules, but you’ll learn.”
“Thanks,” I said, fighting to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I watched the new recruits shuffle after Larry, noticing how the youngest one lagged behind, taking in his surroundingswith wide eyes. Something about him caught my attention, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.
Dad followed my gaze. “That one’s gonna be trouble,” he muttered. “I can always tell.”
“Which one?” I asked, though I already knew.
“The young one. Too jumpy. Probably hiding something.”
I rolled my eyes. “Or maybe he’s just scared. First time out of prison, new place, new people. Cut him some slack.”
Dad’s eyebrows shot up. “Slack is what gets these boys in trouble in the first place. They need structure, discipline?—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I cut him off, immediately regretting it when his face darkened.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, boy,” he warned, jabbing a finger at my chest. “I’ve been running this program for fifteen years. I know what I’m doing.”
I took a deep breath, reining in my frustration. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
He studied me for a moment, then seemed to accept my apology. “I’ve got paperwork to finish. Make sure Larry gets those boys in line. Then get on with your chores.”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded, watching him walk away.
Sometimes I wondered if I wasn’t a prisoner on this fucking ranch too.
Chapter 4
Connor
That first week and a half at McGrath Ranch passed like a dream. A very sore, very tired, and very bruised dream. But honestly? I didn’t mind. Anything was better than being in prison again. Still, I found old habits cropping up from my time in the slammer. I kept my head down, didn’t outperform or try to show any real initiative. I did what I was told, and that was pretty much it. The last thing I wanted was for the other guys to think I was trying to show them up or steal attention. That kind of shit got you shanked in prison.
