“Please fill out both sides and initial the highlighted boxes,” the clerk said, the “please” balanced on the edge of threat. She didn’t look at me directly, but I could see her watching the reflection of my shoulders in the window glass behind the desk.
I filled in my name, the ranch address, and the rest of it. She’d highlighted every other line with a pink marker that bled through to the back. I took my time, printing each letter in the tight, precise script the Navy had drilled into me. When I reached “additional occupants” I put a single slash, but she noticed.
“Will anyone else be living at the residence?” She said it with that soft upward lilt that invited a long answer.
I didn’t give one. “Myself. Ranch hand. That’s it.”
She peered over her glasses, eyes settling on Jojo for the first time. “And you are…?”
Jojo startled, like he’d been caught pocketing a muffin. “Just—um, I’m here to help with the paperwork.” His voice was small, but didn’t shake. I liked that. He kept his gaze pinned to the countertop.
“Uh-huh.” She jotted a note in the margin, then adjusted the stack so the top form was perfectly square with the edge of her keyboard. “You new to town?”
“No,” I said, and left it there.
The silence stretched. She tapped her pen against her lip, then started typing the information in with two stiff fingers. “The old Steele place has been empty for a while. You related to the previous owners?”
I saw what she was doing. Not just verifying residency—she was trying to slot us into the local hierarchy. Out here, bloodlines mattered more than bank accounts.
I kept my eyes on her. “I’m Rawley Steele. Place was my granddad’s.”
She made an “ah” sound, the kind people made when they realized you were the one from the obituary or the family scandal. “Your grandfather was quite the character. Used to ride in the Christmas parade with a rooster on his hat.”
“That was him,” I said.
Another click, a little slower this time. “We’ll need a deposit to reconnect service. Out of state, that’s five hundred up front.”
“No problem.” I pulled the wad of bills from my back pocket. She blinked, and I watched her recalculating her original assessment of me.
As she counted the cash, she kept one eye on the register and the other on Jojo. “How long you been in Black Butte?” she asked him, tone casual, but the weight behind it obvious.
He hesitated, like he was afraid of getting the answer wrong. “A couple months, maybe.”
“You settle in okay?” She was still counting, but her face went softer, like she was trying out a mom voice.
“Yeah. I like it fine,” Jojo said, so quiet I almost missed it.
She looked back at me. “Ranch is a lot of work for one man and a… helper. You got livestock yet?”
I let my fingers drum on the counter, slow and deliberate. “We got horses. Some fence work to do before I bring in anything else.”
She nodded, satisfied for now, then typed a few more lines. “Your helper have a last name?”
My jaw flexed. I felt Jojo shrink back half an inch. “Stinson,” I said. “He’s family, in a way.”
That shut her up for a second. She stapled the forms with a forceful pop, then slid them back to me for signatures.
The air changed. Jojo’s scent shifted, tight and metallic with nerves. I caught his eye, gave him a quick shake of my head. It was the only comfort I knew how to offer in public.
When I slid the paperwork back, I made a point of standing just a little closer to Jojo, making it clear whose side he was on.
“Electric should be live by tomorrow afternoon,” the clerk said, voice clipped. “If you need a meter reading, you’ll have to let the tech inside. He’s not supposed to, but if you leave a note on the door, he can—”
“We’ll be there,” I said.
She reached for the next set of forms, but stopped when she realized I hadn’t moved. “Anything else?”
I smiled, all teeth. “No. Thank you, ma’am.”
