Page 20 of Herds and Hooves

“I’ve known him my whole life and for some reason I don’t have many memories of him. I mean he comes to our house every year for the holidays, but we hadn’t done that much together, and I rarely came here to visit.”

“You know how much it means to him that you’re here. He was worried he’d have to work until he died just to keep the farm going, but then he worried about who would take over. He really loves every one of those cows.”

“Oh, believe me I know now. He’s never said a word to my parents about any of this, and my dad used to stay here a few weeks in the summer, but he thought he’d either get married or find someone else to sell it to. That never happened.”

“This is my place,” I said and pointed ahead to the simple house on the edge of town.

“I can’t wait,” Bart said, and reached for the handle.

Seventeen

Bart

I stepped out of his truck and looked around the area. It was a street I hadn’t been on before, which wasn’t saying much since I’d never driven around the whole town. There was a row of three houses on this side of the street, all close to the same size but each was different. Across the street looked about the same.

“Hey, Keith, I saw you pull in. Are you going to be working on anything tonight?” an older man wearing a big hopeful grin asked as he hurried over to us from one of the houses.

“Hank, this is Bart Martin,” Keith said and the two of us both nodded in greeting.

“Are you related to Asa?” he asked.

“Yes, he’s my uncle.”

“He’s a good old guy. Been running the dairy by himself for as long as I can remember.”

“He’s training me so I can help him. Well, he’s trying to. He’s a very patient man,” I said and tried not to think of all the ways I’d fucked up that past week.

He chuckled before patting my back. “That’s okay, son, when I started driving trucks I had more than one incident that I will never mention again.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a lot more than one incident,” Keith said. “I was going to show Bart how we pound metal. I’m sure he won’t mind if you hang out.”

“Not at all. Keith told me you’re the expert,” I said, and tried not to laugh as I thought about our earlier conversation. Keith’s eyes met mine with a slightly crazed look before he cleared his throat.

“Just give me a minute to go change and get the forge heated. Come on, Bart, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” Hank wandered over in the direction of the small shed while I followed Keith inside. As soon as I pulled the door shut, he spun me around and lowered me onto the couch.

“I thought you were going to show Hank how to po—” was all I got out before he pressed me down and his lips were on mine.

“Enough about pounding. Believe me when I say we are going to make up for lost time later. I’d really like you to stay.”

“I’ll stay, but there is never enough talk about pounding, being pounded, getting pounded.”

“Okay okay, just not so much around Hank. I don’t want to shock him too much.”

After another quick kiss he showed me where his bathroom was even though I hadn’t asked. When I walked out, I was alone and could hear him and Hank talking outside. His house was small but neat, and definitely had a western theme, with lots of cow décor and more than one small figurine. It was cute, and I found myself smiling before deciding if I stayed inside much longer, he’d suspect I really needed to use the bathroom.

“There he is,” Hank said as soon as I walked out. “I was worried you’d fallen in.”

“Uh, nope, I survived,” I said and ignored Keith’s snicker. Country people had a way of talking that they found hilarious, but I was still getting used to it. It included lots of references to things I’d never heard of and didn’t understand, and humor that was just on the edge of raunchy and not for public consumption. And none of it stopped them from saying it. Especially the older ones. It was like they’d already given all their fucks and had no more to give. And jesusfuckingchrist now I was doing the same thing!

“Good to know,” Keith said, and covered his smile with his thumb. “Come on, I’ve got an apron you can wear so you don’t get burned by flying bits of hot metal.”

My eyes widened in shock. “There’s going to be flying bits of hot metal?”

“Oh, they’re little. It only hurts for a second,” Hank said, not reassuring me at all.

“You’ll be fine,” Keith said and hung a heavy apron over my head.

Hank wandered over to a small refrigerator and took a beer out. “It’s Friday. It’s the only day he allows me to drink in here,” he explained and the two of us watched Keith light his forge.