Page 1 of Flowers To Give

CHAPTER ONE

THE MORNING DEW clings to the blue sagebrush, world calm. Clearing the crest of the mountainside, the incline that had slowed the climb lets out to a rocky clearing. Galloping with a burst into the field, the wind whooshing past is cut by the stiff brim of Jeremy’s cowboy hat. He doesn’t dare glance behind him to see how closely he’s being followed, gripping the reins and poking the tips of his spurs into Asher’s belly. The faithful black Morgan horse bucks her head as she manages to pick up another inch of speed, racing towards the bushel of junipers.

They cross the tree marker, Barry and his steed right on their tail. Jeremy pulls on the reins and squeezes his thighs as Asher rears back, neighing in protest of stopping. Barry rounds his dun horse back to them, shaking his head low in defeat. Asher takes a few steps closer to the watering hole and they both dismount as Jeremy tells the ranch hand, “How many times you gonna put your poor animal through that ‘fore you realize there ain’t no beating me?”

“Imma catch up to you one day, just you wait and see,” Barry touts, leading his horse to the water too.

They loosely toss the reins over the thicket of nearby branches, Jeremy giving Barry a clear warning, “Well watch it, one day you’re gonna clip a rock and blast off.”

Grabbing for the canteen from the saddlebag, Barry’s chest pushes up against Jeremy’s back. His abdominal muscles fill thespace where Jeremy’s spine dips as he leans in to whisper, “You really wanna see me ‘blast off?’”

Jeremy turns to face him, pushing back against his intrusive chest and asking, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Making a pass at you,” Barry’s chestnut eyes search the other’s, grinning, “Obviously.”

“Hm, hitting on a coworker and racing company property on the clock? Really breaking all the rules today, aren’t ya?”

“I’ll break some laws too if you’ll let me,” his smile turns toothy, gaze hungry.

Stepping to the side, Jeremy takes off his hat and rests it on the saddle horn before allowing Barry to infiltrate his personal space again. The rim of his own hat pushes against Jeremy’s ear and falls to the ground as he wraps the cowboy in a bear hug and mouths at his neck. Jeremy’s skin tingles but he doesn’t fight back too much, loosely fisting the other’s flannel shirt although he does groan a weak protest, “Dude, stop. I said no kissing.”

“What? I’m not,” Barry nibbles insolently against Jeremy’s skin, intimate and not at all their typical dynamic.

Reaching his hands between their bodies and grabbing for the ranch hand’s groin, Jeremy is stopped by the radio clicking on each of their belts, “Scout One, you read?”

Separating from one another and deflating, Jeremy answers while Barry readjusts himself in his jeans, saying into the radio, “Munday here, read you loud and clear.”

“Have you roundup the herd yet?”

“Negative.”

“Redirect and come on back, boys,” Sheila’s order is tinny but clear cut.

“Should we finish the roundup?” Jeremy asks into the radio, wondering if they should still go after the free roaming cattle to put to pasture.

“Negative. Repeat, come back home.”

Barry rolls his eyes while Jeremy gives her the over and out. They let the horses finish drinking before hiking back up on their saddles and making their way down the rocky mountain. The late winter day has been gray and overcast, the darker storm clouds in the distance rolling towards Jeremy grow black on the horizon.

Hoping the cattle are bunkered down, Jeremy is all but soaked to the bone by the time he and Barry make it back to the ranch. They hurriedly put the horses under Marie’s care before rushing through the downpour to the bunkhouse, Jeremy eager for a shower.

“Wonder why they called us back,” Barry says as they make it under the overhang out front of the house, lighting a cigarette and handing it to Jeremy before sparking his own.

Jeremy sips at the burning tobacco between his lips while shaking out his soaked hat, replying, “Maybe for the storm?”

Barry scoffs, “On Willmaker Ranch? We work at the same place? Nuh-uh, no way old man Wilcox would care about us more than his cattle. Somebody must’ve died or something.”

“Don’t say that,” Jeremy rolls his eyes, giving up on the hat and flicking ash from the Marlboro into a puddle.

The door opens between them and another ranch hand, Jose, steps out. He pauses as he notices Jeremy and Barry, nodding, “Yo. You guys about to head to the arena?”

“Huh?” Barry blinks.

“The arena. They’re calling for a ranch wide meeting there.”

Jeremy steps closer, “Who is?”

“I don’t know,” Jose shrugs, “Everybody’s just supposed to meet there. So c’mon.”