Kid’s Gonna Die – a Coke and Dillion short
“Dammit, Yancey, move your slow ass!” Coke bellowed, making the kid in the ring put on a burst of speed. He hit the rail maybe six inches ahead of the young bull who was trying to take his ass off. The bull only missed because he was young, and because Nate, who was sitting on a barrel in the middle of the ring, hooted and hollered and distracted him.
“Kid’s gonna die,” Dillon said mildly, watching Sherlock and Watson, the two basset pups they were travel training, chase the bull toward the gate, howling in a wild chorus.
“I hear it happens to the best of us, and Lord knows he ain’t that, cowboy.” Coke rolled his eyes, but he could no more fight his grin than he could lie to God. “Gonna go put the fear of Jesus into the boy. Be right back.”
“Yep.” Dillon just watched, but Coke knew that man was evaluating every move Yancey Lowry made, and he would be able to give a good critique once the kid was out of the ring.
“What the hell is wrong with you, son? You got lead in your drawers? You must have, because I could have avoided that damn steer blindfolded, drunk, and standing on my goddamn hands!”
“I detect no lies,” Nattie drawled from the barrel.
“Sorry, Coke!” The kid panted, hanging on the rail.
“So what’s up? You sick? Hungover? Lost your damn mind? Sore?”
The kid’s cheeks went bright red, and he glanced at the new guy — real pretty son of a bitch with long black braids and covered in tribal ink.
“Good lord and butter.” Just what he needed, a man hurt because he’d gotten his ass fucked last night. “Numbing cream. Order it from Amazon. Do not try anything that says either fire or ice, you got me?”
Yancey wouldn’t meet his eyes, he just nodded. “Yessir, Gramps.”
“Go on. All y’all. Just go. Me and Nate got to chat about what to do about tomorrow.” He waved the boys off. Ten of them — three of them circling around each other like vultures, one married with a baby on the way, the other six not knowing whether to scratch their watch or wind their butt.
They trooped away, and he shook his head, looking from Nate to Dillon. “Huddle up, fellers.”
Dillon ducked under the rail and came to meet him as Nate crawled out of the barrel. The bassets came to bounce around them, proud of how they’d played safety man.
“Okay, so Yancey’s playing grab ass with Mark, which means there’s gonna be a fight between Mark and Redding, but I don’t believe that Yancey’s got what it takes. He’s slow at the best of times, and he doesn’t have a ton of those. He’s gonna get himself trampled.” And he knew that these cowboys were paying them a pretty penny to learn this, but damn.
“Yeah.” Natty shook his head. “Maybe I should talk to him about being a barrel man.”
“Is he funny at all?” Dillon asked. “Does he have rhythm?”
How the fuck would he know? He just ran them around in circles.
“Maybe you should find out,” Nate told Dillon.
Dillon rolled his eyes, but there was a gleam in them that told Coke he would love to do just that. To have someone to train on his own.
“I bet he’d be able to work a barrel. He’s got try.” Just not a natural talent, and unfortunately, it helped.
Talent. Training. Tenacity.
Add to that the knowledge that this was a calling, and it was a solid equation.
Natty shared a look of perfect understanding with him. “Talk to him, Dillweed. We’re going to wash him out of the program if you don’t have a place for him.”
“I’ll see what he’s got. Otherwise, I’ll send him to Troy to work the chutes. He’s pretty good with the animals.” Dillon shrugged, then did a little shadow boxing. He still always had to be moving.
“I hate when Ace sends us guys that are slow.” He could teach a lot, but muscle memory? Not so much.
“Well, maybe Ace just sends everyone who’s really interested.”
Natty scoffed at Dillon. “The big boss just wants to test us to make sure we’re doing our job. He always did. Thank God he doesn’t pay all the bills these days, huh?”
“No shit on that.” No, today lots of different things paid the bills — from reality shows to interviews to stocks. All in all, they were on top of things.
Dillon had a real head for money. He always had. It was kinda nice to let him manage that shit so Coke and Natty could just run their school.
And keep guys like Yancey alive.
“I’m going to check on Tracy and the kids. She’s making chili and cornbread for the guys, if y’all want some at supper.”
“Yum.” Dillon shook his tail feathers. “Yes, please. Unless you had other plans, babe?”
“Nope.” The chicken breasts would wait another day. “You want to go bob in the hot tub together until suppertime, cowboy? We could soak the dust off. Have a dip in the pool.”
“Hell, yeah.” Dillon grabbed his hand. “See you at supper, Nate. Byeee.”
“Pervs.” Nate went to his little dirt bike even as they wandered to the 4×4.
“Do you think we’re too old to be pervs, cowboy?” Coke thought they maybe were, but who knew?
“Nope. But we’re selectively pervy these days. I mean, sometimes it’s nicer just to relax in the hot tub and just cuddle.” Dillon’s sideways smile made him laugh.
“Mmhmm. Sometimes I like to relax in the hot tub and just watch you move.” Coke winked and eased himself into the side-by-side. Dillon would drive.
“See? Some people might consider that pervy.” Dillon hopped in and got them moving, but Coke noticed Dillon was taking it slow for him. “You sore, babe?”
“Nothing bubbling with you and a new neck won’t fix.”
“I can do the bubbling. And a massage. I’ll take care of you.”
“You always do, cowboy. You always do. Just do me a favor.”
Dillon looked at him sideways. “What’s that?”
“Don’t talk about work. Especially that damn Yancey.”
#
“Damn it, Yancey. Will you pay attention to the music and not the bullfighters!”
Coke looked at Dillon from the ring, trying not to grin. Yancey had proven to have good rhythm, and he was funny enough that he would be able to work small rodeos where the clown made folks roll their eyes for his whole career.
But he still watched Mark rather than concentrating on his own work. And Dillon was starting to steam.
“Hey, Gramps, we’re putting in another bull. This time Austin will ride him out and give us the real deal.” Natty’s voice held no small amount of laughter.
“Okay. Mark, you and Dutton take the front of the chute. Redding, you and Gene take the back. Y’all work it just like a set of four at the finals, you hear me? If Austin is willing to ride it, this will be a real damn bull.”
“Yessir.”
He stayed on the fence, because Nattie was on the gate pulling rope, and because he’d promised Dillon to be gentle with his old bones. “I’m serious, boys. Focus. Do not fuck this up.”
“We’ll make you proud, Gramps.”
Austin grinned at him from the chute, then climbed up to step on and lower himself on the bull’s back. This one was of Cotton’s, he thought, a smart little gray and black bull with shiny horns.
He caught Dillon’s attention, winked once, making his cowboy laugh. It felt good, knowing that Dillon was watching.
Austin nodded, the gate swung open under Nate’s pull, and the bull came out like a dervish, spinning into Austin’s riding hand and bucking like hell.
The little bull was mad as all get out, and Coke would let Cotton know. This one would be a keeper.
“Whoo!” Austin whooped, free arm a little loose for a bull like this, but he made the pretend buzzer, then started looking for a get off.
“Focus boys!” he hollered. “Do your jobs!”
They scrambled into action, and it was Mark who got the bull to focus on him, turning him away from Austin’s hand so the man could jump down and run for the fence.
The bull almost got Dutton right in the ass, but Mark came to the rescue again, shouting, “Hey!” as he zoomed in between the bull and Dutton, smacking the bull lightly on the snout to get him to follow.
“Oh, good job, babe!” Like he’d forgotten he was in the barrel, Yancey stumbled forward, toppling right over onto the dirt like a roly poly bug.
“Yancey! Goddammit, I am going to kick your ass until it’s up between your ears if you don’t pay attention!” Dillon roared, making the dogs set up a howl.
The bull went back through the gate, the students all clapped each other on the back, and Dillon kept on railing at Yancey.
Coke just snorted and grinned at Nate.
Nate nodded sagely.
Together they said, “Kid’s gonna die.”
The Wedding – a Cowboy Healing deleted scene
“Daddy! Are you ready to get married?” Maggie’s bright red curls bounced, her light violet dress flouncing. “You look so pretty!”
“Thank you, chicken. I am ready. Is your pop?”
“He is.” Mason grinned at him, looking very dapper in his suit. It matched his and Caleb’s — a dove gray suit jacket with jeans and cowboy boots, a pale purple button down.
“Good. Okay.” He blew out a breath. He was doing this. And he was ready. For real.
“It’s all right, Dad. We have this. The flowers are here, all the cowboys and doctors. It’s sunny. It’s the perfect day.”
It really was — they had decided on lilacs for their colors with a gentle happy yellow to contrast. They had a fiddle player for the music, and they were having barbecue. It was all amazing.
“I just want to see Caleb,” he finally said. And he did. He wanted to look into his lover’s eyes.
“Pop, Daddy. His real name is Pop now.” Maggie spun around again, her skirt flying. “I’m the flower girl!”
“I’m the best man.” Mason grinned at him. “Are you happy?”
“I am. Should we go get ready?”
They were all going to walk in together, hand in hand with the kids. It was the most reasonable answer, and it felt right.
“Yes, please.” Maggie held out a hand to him, her little fingernails painted a candy pink.
He met Caleb at the little white arch, the whole thing covered in purple roses. His cowboy was a sight for sore eyes — his shirt and suit a shade or two darker.
Caleb looked nervous until he saw them, then that smile broke free, and Lord, he couldn’t ever get enough of that. He could see the love in Caleb’s gaze.
“I come bearing a flower girl and our best man.”
“Well, we need those, huh?” Carter clapped Mason on the shoulder, then bent to kiss Maggie’s head. “We got all we need, huh. Mason, you got the rings?”
“I have ye olde ringle-dingles!” Mason announced.
“I have the flower petals!” Maggie waved her wee basket.
“Then let’s do this.” Caleb waved at the music lady.
“Sounds like a plan, Mr. Warren.”
“It sure does, Dr. Kelly. It sure does.”
#
Caleb walked his lover down the aisle, just stunned that they were really, finally doing this. He’d never been so damn happy in his life.
He’d never believed that he was going to be here — standing on his grandparents’ land, holding the hand of the man he loved, his new family surrounding them.
Patrick grinned at him when they stopped in front of the minister. “You ready?”
“I am. You know I am.”
They listened to the little lecture about circles and lifetimes and rings and promises and blessings. Then, when father Michael was done, Patrick took his hand, stared into his eyes.
“I never thought for a second that I would fall in love again. I never thought that when a cowboy asked me if I would marry him I’d say yes. I never knew that you would come and save kids and puppies and horses and calves. And me.” Patrick’s eyes filled with tears. “You totally saved me.”
“How am I supposed to answer that, Doc?” How could he? He wasn’t a poet like Patrick was. “All I have is forever. All I have is my heart. Enough?”
Patrick nodded. “More than.”
The vows themselves were quick, almost anticlimactic, but when he asked Maggie and Mason if they’d have him?
His Maggie-girl cheered. “I’ll have you, Cowboy Papa!”
“I’m proud to,” Mason said.
“Thank you, guys. That means so much to me.” It meant everything.
“We needed you. All three of us.” Mason shrugged. “You belong here.”
“With us and Princess Anna and the dogs!” Maggie danced in a circle, making the audience laugh.
“I do. And I’m so glad to be marrying in. I promise to love and protect you with all my heart.”
“I will ‘tect your heart with love too, Papa. I promise to God.”
Patrick just melted next to him.
He squeezed Patrick’s hand. “Thank you, baby girl.”
She grinned at him. “Come on. We have to be done, because there’s tacos and cake!”
“Yes, ma’am. Hit it, padre.” He winked at their minister.
“You got it. Patrick, Caleb — I now pronounce you married.”
Maggie grabbed his leg. “Yay! We’re married! Time for tacos!”
#
“Y’all make an amazing party.” Tom smiled at him, laughing as a bunch of kids jumped on the bouncy castle, while the band set up so they could all dance.
Patrick couldn’t remember ever being so happy.
“Thanks, man,” Caleb said. “We wanted everyone to have a ball. Make a real memory.”
“It’s amazing. I love that there’s so much to do — and there’s going to be dancing!”
Patrick nodded. “Maggie and Caleb insisted. Weddings are for dancing.”
He and Caleb had practiced their two-step for a month. It had been fun as hell.
“Well, I got to tell you,” Koby said, coming to loop an arm around Tom. “I’m looking forward to the food.”
“Well, go make you a plate, man.” Caleb shook his head. “It’s just brisket, ribs, sausage, and all the fixin’s. We didn’t want to be all formal.”
Patrick nodded. “We’re going to cut the cake now, so everyone knows they can chow down.”
“I’m ready.”
Patrick led Caleb over to the gorgeous chocolate cake, the entire thing coated in chocolate ganache and topped with perfect, luscious strawberries.
It was everything a traditional wedding cake wasn’t, and they took pictures cutting and sharing bites, feeding each other, and the kids, who lapped it up.
“Everyone eat! Please.” He wanted them all to enjoy the bounty.
“Yay!” Maggie dove for the taco bar.
He watched the party, loving the sight of his family — the kids, Decker and his family, even Bryan’s folks were here.
For them.
“Come on, babe. Let’s strap on the feed bag, and then we can go dance.”
“First dance and everything, huh? I like it.” He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to eat. It was all finally done — everything was over.
“Yep. I want that with you.” Caleb took his hand. “Badly.”
“Do you? No regrets?” He smiled into his cowboy’s eyes. “Was it worth it? Falling in love with a single workaholic orthopedist father?”
“No regrets. What about you? Ever worry about me being a land grubbing weirdo?”
He shook his head, winked. “Every day, cowboy.”
“Oh, man. I see how you are. You know, we could dance first and eat later.” Caleb tugged him toward the dance floor. “Let’s polish belt buckles.”
He nodded to the band. The lead singer wasn’t George Strait, but he could sing “I Cross My Heart” with the best of them.
“Yes, sir. Tonight and for the rest of our lives.”
Forever and ever.
Amen.
Milkshakes and Horses – a Broken In short
“Snow, get off me!” Kyler must have fallen asleep, on the big double swing on the front porch because when he woke up, he was totally off balance. One of his legs was all catty wampus – bad enough to be digging into his knee – while the heel of the other one was kind of stuck in one of the floorboards.
Must have been talking in his sleep during his nap too, or Snow wouldn’t have bothered to wake him up. That was her job, after all, to make sure that he didn’t have nightmares. She hadn’t been working hard as often in the years since he’d been with Greyson, though.
He’s gotten fat and lazy, and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he didn’t reckon. Still, he was sitting out here in the middle of God and everyone having a nap, like an old man.
Lord, have mercy.
He pushed Snow off him, being easy on her big old arthritic body. Then he set to getting his legs put to right.
They really were going to have to fix that hole in the porch before he went ass over teakettle again.
He got himself settled, and he got to searching for the cane that he always had nearby. He didn’t need it to walk or anything, but it did help to get some leverage, to haul his happy ass up off things like, say, a swing?
“You looking for this babe?” Greyson came out swinging his cane like it was a big old clock pendulum. “You must have left it inside.”
He winked over, rolled his eyes. “Obviously I left you inside too.”
“No, you left me in the barns, but that’s okay.” Greyson offered him a shit eating grin. “Luckily, I always know where to find you.” Greyson bent to kiss him before straightening to look him over with a measuring eye. “You got everything all back in place?”
I think so, yeah. He wiggled his butt a little, trying to unnumb it. It was always easier to stand up if your butt wasn’t numb.
“We got plans for this afternoon?”
Grayson shrugged. “Well, I was going to suggest that we have a nap, but you’ve already done that for us. We could go down into town and get milkshakes.”
“We could.” He didn’t have a problem with that. He liked a nice milkshake.
“Let’s do that.” Then Grayson reached for him and started to haul him up to his feet when the shout came from the barns.
Uh-oh.
About the time that he got stood really good a horse streaked across the front yard, trampling roses and petunias and looking like she was fixing to head straight for the road.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Times like this, he wished he had still had legs. “Somebody get a rope.”
He headed down the ramp, hand on the railing. He heard in the back of his mind, Greyson was fussing about cowboys and fences and him being careful and what the fuck was going on and, and, and…
Kyler didn’t care.
They’d spent too damn much money on that horse for it to get hit by a semi truck because it was being damn fool and running out in the road.
He whistled hard and sharp and loud. Paisley stopped short, just like every damn horse in his entire herd would, and he knew it.
They all knew that sound.
It was the very first thing he taught him after this was a safe place, and you won’t ever go hungry, and that he loved them.
This was lesson four.
“When I whistle, you stop.”
#
Greyson loved that Kyler’s horses all knew that damn whistle. It stopped them in their tracks, usually, and he was able to call Snow. “Help me out old lady. Keep her out of the road.”
Snow was less of a herder and more a service dog, but she got it, circling around to push Paisley toward him.
“Here, boss. Got a rope.” The hand who came out of the barn tossed him a lariat.
“Thanks. Come on, girl. You don’t want to run without me.”
Poor baby looked all together panicked, a little lathered even, and given that she’d been in the damn barn, that shouldn’t happen.
He had to put all that aside for right this second, though. No stress, all peace going to get the horse.
Gotta put her in the barn. Gotta beat some cowboys. It was going to be fun. Then he was gonna take his husband, and they were gonna go get milkshakes.
In the damn truck where there weren’t any damn horses trying to get out into the damn road.
So there.
“Come on, Paisley girl. We’ll fix it. Whatever it is, it’ll be okay.” Kyler’s voice was just as calm as a still pond, even though Greyson knew that his lover was just about hot.
Kyler hated when something happened with the horses. Those beasts were his babies, one hundred percent, and hell fire and brimstone would rain down on anyone, man or animal, that bothered them.
She shied away from Snow, but that brought her just close enough to Ryder for him to toss a loop over her head, settling it around her neck. She half-reared, and he tightened his grip just enough to keep her on the ground.
“Whoa now, baby girl. I got you. I got you.”
Kyler hobbled right up to her, stiff from his nap, but determined. “Paisley. I’m right here, sweet girl. I’m here.” He followed the rope up to her, then put a hand on her neck.
She calmed, standing there, shivering, blowing. Really fucking wigged out.
“Boss! Shit, I’m sorry.” The other barn hand, Henry, trotted out, a dead timber rattler dangling from one hand. “She killed it. It was in her stall in the straw. Getting warm, I think.”
“Oh, baby girl, did that nasty critter scare you?” Kyler stroked and petted. “Y’all clear out all the hay, check for others. We don’t need any surprises.”
No. No more surprises, especially of the venomous kind. “Hand her off.”
Kyler blinked up at him, surprised. “What?”
“Hand Paisley to Matt.” He needed a milkshake, and he needed it now.
Kyler put one steady hand on his arm, grounding him good and hard. “I could go to town.”
“Well, let’s go. Guys, take care of Paisley now.” Greyson watched Kyler hand off the mare, and he grinned. This was what he paid folks for, right? So he could spend time with the love of his life, especially after they put out one of the many little fires that came from ranch living.
And milkshakes were always worth the drive into town.
Ryder heard the crying from the intercom in their bedroom, and he hopped up to go figure out who was upset. They had three foster kids tonight: one that was a respite, one teenager who had been there for quite a long time who was just kind of waiting out her school year to go to college, and then there was the new boy.
Ricky.
This poor little boy had the misfortune of being named Ricky Ricardo. Who would do that to their child? It wasn’t funny. It just seemed cruel in kind of an ‘oh smack me down me now’ sort of way.
It didn’t matter though. Ricky was new in, five years old, had a little bit of a temper, and this was a place to stay where there were lots of adults and lots of space for a little boy that had lots of energy.
Ryder had this sinking suspicion that it was little Ricky who was crying. He headed into the big dormitories that they’d built on one end of the house. Sure enough, there was a too-skinny, too-grown up, utterly exhausted little boy clinging to a stuffed Longhorn and sobbing like his heart was going to break.
Ryder went to the edge of the bed and knelt down. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered. “You okay?”
Ricky shook his head, tears flying, and Ryder’s heart broke a little bit more.
“So would you like to come and sit with me in the family room? We can talk if you want, and that way you don’t wake anybody up.”
Ricky shook his head again, then he nodded. “Is that all right?”
“Sure, buddy. Come on. Bring your cow and the blanket.” He understood about this a little bit. Not as much as anyone would guess because he did have his grannies, but more often than not, he got it, because he’d lost his folks, too.
They wandered out to the great big main room, through that to the family room with the TV and the toys and the comfy couches and the recliners. It was a wreck, but in that way that said that folks lived there, and Ryder knew that if someone came in for a spot check it was clean as a whistle, just cluttered and full of toys and life and art supplies.
He could live with that.
They settled side by side on the sofa, Ricky wrapped up in his blanket and clinging to that silly stuffed cow.
They literally had cases of them. Their Elijah had designed them, which was possibly the weirdest thing in the world, because in Ryder’s heart, Elijah was going to always be twelve, always be this gangly kid who got into fights over his big sister and who was starving all the time.
Not this nineteen year old young man in art school who designed basically anything he wanted to, which was usually video games, but in this case was the Chiara cow.
Man, he was proud of that boy.
Ryder let them both settle there for a while, just kind of sit with their feelings. Okay, he could be honest with himself if no one else. He was kind of hoping that little boy would fall asleep, and then he could fall asleep, and then maybe he could get some rest.
It wasn’t going to happen.
He’d done this too many times, and he was right. Ricky just stared at him with those great big black eyes.
“Are you doing all right?”
“Yes.” Then Ricky nodded before he shook his head, then nodded again, then shook his head.
Ryder let himself smile. “Well, I do understand that. I feel like that a lot.”
That earned him a raised eyebrow. “You do?”
“Sure I do, bud. Sometimes I have bad dreams, Sometimes I worry about the kids. Sometimes I just can’t sleep.”
“I want my momma.”
He nodded, and his smile faded. “I get that. I lost my mom too when I was your age. Just like you did last year.” He kept it matter of fact.
“Did you have to go stay somewhere you didn’t know?”
Well, damn. He wasn’t going to lie. “No, I had to come here and live with my grannies, though. I did know this place.”
Ricky blinked. “This place, like this was the house you grew up in?”
“Yes and no. When I grew up here it was smaller — a lot smaller, and then we built it on so that we had room for me to stay. When I was a grown up we made room for kids to stay when they needed a place. So, yes, but over where the grannies live, that was our house.”
“Am I going to stay here until I grow up?
“I don’t know. I never say never, kiddo. You might.” So maybe that was a little bit of a lie. This little boy was angry, sure, and he needed some care and some space to work things out. But he was smart, handsome, and had a good soul.
Someone would meet this little kid and fall in complete and utter love, and then adopt him and raise him as their own, he had no doubt.
But right now, Ricky was feeling alone and unwanted, like he didn’t have a place in the universe.
This was their calling here at the Chiara ranch. To make sure that everybody knew that there was a place for them in the universe.
“But you’re not gonna just make me leave and live all by myself.”
No, sir. I’m not going to make you leave and live all by yourself, I promise. No one is going to make you live alone and be on your own. You are going to go to school and have friends and have a place.” He stopped, held Ricky’s gaze. “You will always have a place here. No matter what.”
“He says that to all the kids.” Olivia wandered through, her pink and orange mohawk disheveled and odd looking. “He means it. He’s just letting me stay until I graduate. It’s cool, little buddy.”
“What are you doing up, girl?” Ryder asked, and she shrugged.
“I heard him get up, and I was worried that he couldn’t find the bathroom, and that he’d get lost. He’s only new. No stress.”
“You’re a good egg.”
“Bock, bock, chicken bock.” Olivia came and sat, opening up her arms, and little Ricky moved right in to get a hug. “You’re you’re cool, little Ricky Ricardo. We got your back.”
“Am I gonna get ‘dopted? Like Nell?”
“Yeah.” Olivia nodded. “Absolutely. But while you’re waiting you can hang here with us.”
Ryder smiled and nodded. “Exactly.”
That was why they were here.
So that while the kids were waiting, they still had a place to call home.