LeeAnne wrestled him into her truck, fastenin’ his seatbelt for him as though he was a toddler. “I’ve seen you mope over that boy for four years.” She looked at him like he was a lost, kicked puppy. “And I’ll probably see you do it for another ten. You ain’t made your choice yet.”
Patrick furrowed his eyebrows. “I have. ‘M gonna tell him the truth.”
She smiled sadly and patted his chest. “We’ll see about that. Let’s get you home.”
He faded in and out of consciousness the whole way back to the ranch. LeeAnne swore under her breath as she tried to keep him from fallin’ flat on his face between the truck and his bedroom. He mumbled out an almost incoherentyou’ll see; Imma tell himas he crawled into bed, clothes and all still on.
12
Two Weeks Later
For the first time in about fifteen years, Suncreek Ridge saw snow. Patrick and Nash herded the cattle into the barns, takin’ the extra precaution to separate the bulls into their own barn. The herd made their disapproval of bein’ carrolled into a much smaller space than they were used to well known, but eventually settled once feed was distributed. Finished with the cattle, they went to check on the horses.
Colt whinnied then trotted up to his stable door and nudged Patrick’s head with his snout. Patrick smiled. “Hey boy,” he murmured, rubbin’ Colt’s snout.
Nash hip bumped Patrick. “You’ve been spendin’ more time with the horses.”
“The old bastards passed durin’ the summer. Heat got to be too much from them. Mama found ‘em in the stables. Pa had to just about carry her out.” Patrick blinked a few times then cleared his throat. “It was real rough for all of us, but especiallyher. She hasn’t been to the ranch since, so it’s just been me to take care of them.”
Arms wrapped around his waist, holdin’ him tight. Nash set his chin on Patrick’s shoulder. “You did good, Baby. They both look strong and healthy.”
“Thank you. I worry sometimes that I ain’t doing enough for them, but I try.”
“That’s more than most folks do. ‘Sides, I know you’re doin’ good with ‘em because of how Colt came up to ya right away without any bribe.”
“He thinks he’s gonna get one. He’ll start sniffin’ my chest here in a second lookin’ for a sugar cube.”
“Ain’t that just precious.” Nash kissed Patrick’s cheek. “Just like you.”
Patrick rolled his eyes, cheeks blazin’. “Shut up.”
“What? You are.”
Patrick scoffed, but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t see the point in bickerin’ when their time together was so short. “Let’s change out their blankets and give them some feed so we can get inside. My fingers are turnin’ blue.”
Bright, brilliant laughter filled the barn, remindin’ Patrick of the day his father told him that he’d hired somebody by the name of Nash Colby. It felt like a lifetime ago when Patrick begged his father not to hire anybody, claimin’ that he could handle it on his own. Another person would just be another mouth to feed, another paycheck to write. If his father had listened though, Patrick would’ve never met Nash. He tried to imagine how different things would’ve been. Life would’ve carried on like it always had, empty and dull. Patrick would’ve probably ended up alone and miserable, destined for nothin’ more than the company of trashy cable TV. Patrick watched Nash sling Minx’s blanket over the door with a resoundin’thwackof heavy wool against wood. For once, he was mightythankful his father didn’t listen, cuz he unknowingly gave Patrick the best thing that ever came out of ranchin’.
“That starin’ problem of yours is back, Baby.” Nash smirked, leanin’ against Colt’s stable door. “What’s goin’ on in that pretty li’l head of yours?”
“You ever think”—Patrick turned Colt, adjusting his blanket—“‘bout how different things would be if you didn’t come work for my old man?”
“I do.”
“Do you ever regret it?”
“No. Not in the slightest.”
Patrick’s heart was a wild thing within the confines of his ribs. “Really?”
“Honest. Do you?”
“No, but I guess I just worry.”
“Worry ‘bout what?”
“You gettin’ bored of not ranchin’ year round and decide comin’ here every winter ain’t worth the little bit of money you get out of it.”
Nash’s eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, I’ve been comin’ every winter for the past four years; don’t you think that means something?”
