Home > Half a Cowboy(4)

Half a Cowboy(4)
Author: Andrew Grey

“Yeah. We have the cattle sheltered, with plenty of feed. They should be okay. The horses are all bedded down and the doors closed. We ensured they all have clear water, but we’re going to have to go back out in a few hours. I’m afraid the water for the cattle will freeze over even with the circulators. It’s just so cold.” Lucy sat down, and Marcel got the coffee and brought it to the table.

“How is your unexpected visitor?” Marcel asked quietly.

“He’s asleep,” Ashton said and leaned over the table. “He told me his name is Ben Malvoin, but I think that’s an alias. He’s running from something. When you get back to your quarters, could you call a few of your contacts and see if they can find out anything about him? This guy is scared shitless about something, and I want to know what he’s bringing to my ranch.” Of course, nothing was going to be moving until this storm was over, and then the entire area was going to need to dig itself out.

“I’ll see what I can come up with. I got a good look at him, so I can start with a description. Do you think Ben is his first name?”

Ashton nodded. “It came to him too easily. It’s the last name that’s most likely fictional.” He took the mug Lucy offered and sat back down. “I’m going to start lunch soon.”

Lucy grinned. “We were sort of hoping you would offer.”

“He’s sick of my cooking,” Marcel said.

Lucy smacked his arm. “I am not and you know it.” Lucy’s grin softened, and he placed his hand on top of Marcel’s. Cooking was a passion that Ashton and Marcel shared. “It’s just that you’ve been up since before six. A break is nice.”

Marcel had been an officer’s club chef in the Army and could make dishes worthy of any Michelin-starred chef. Ashton had learned a great deal from him over the years. Before he left the ranch and went into the service, Ashton had dreamed that he might become a chef, but life had taken a turn and he’d ended up doing something completely different. Still, he was at home in the kitchen.

“This isn’t a contest or anything,” Ashton said as he got up. “I was thinking of making some pasta. With this kind of weather, we need compact calories.” He slowly got some things out of the cupboards. It always took a while because sometimes he only had one free hand. Often when he was in the kitchen, because he could lean on the counters, he was able to set his cane aside.

“You know, no cowboy in the rest of Wyoming would recognize the food on this ranch,” Marcel quipped.

“Probably not,” Ashton agreed. He still thought of himself as a cowboy, probably always would, though doing a lot of the things he used to do was out of the question. Hell, even getting on a horse was nearly impossible. The last time he’d tried, his leg had ached for days, and he had been danged near useless on horseback anyway. His left leg just wasn’t sturdy enough to issue the commands, and it couldn’t take the weight it needed to in order to ride effectively. That was one of the real shits about coming back to the ranch. “Maybe we should just call this a farm.”

Lucy nearly dropped his mug, and Marcel glared at him the same way he might have if Ashton had said something nasty about his mother, who was one of the greatest ladies Ashton had ever met. “And you should stop cursing or we’ll get my mama to wash your mouth out with soap.”

Ashton placed his hands on the counter and slowly turned around and returned to his chair to get off his leg, which had decided to ache something awful. “Maybe lunch can wait a little while.”

Marcel and Lucy didn’t say anything, but Marcel got up and started taking things out of the refrigerator and put water on to heat. Then, without a word or a question, he got to work. Ashton knew Marcel and Lucy would never say anything about his inability to do what he wanted. They were good friends, lifelong friends who had seen some of the same horrors Ashton had.

“Can I help?” Ben asked as he shuffled in, and Ashton introduced the men he was working with.

Marcel shook his head, so Ben sat down, alternating his gaze between the three of them. Lucy got him a mug of coffee, and they all drank, not saying much while Marcel cooked. Ashton, Marcel, and Lucy often spent time in the same room without talking. Ashton figured they all thought that there was no use filling the quiet with chatter. Part of what they loved about life on the ranch was the hours of quiet that they got when they were working.

Ben shifted in his chair, then leaned forward as he peered out the window that faced west, looking out over one of the pastures nearest the house. “Is that a horse?” he asked, squinting. “Isn’t it cold for them?”

Ashton turned as Lucy jumped to his feet, and Marcel practically dropped his knife.

“Son of a bitch,” Lucy swore. “I know all the doors and stalls were well secured.” He was already heading out the back to pull on his gear, with Marcel right behind.

“Take the guns,” Ashton said to both of them as he too got up to pull on his gear. “Ben, stay here, please.” He had no choice but to leave him in the house.

Lucy and Marcel were already out the back door by the time Ashton geared up and headed out the front. He checked the barn nearest the house and found it closed up tight, all occupants in their stalls, which meant the barn farther down the road, the one he’d found Ben in, was the one that had been tampered with.

Lucy trudged to the truck and climbed in, starting the engine. “I’m on my way. We’ll locate any that got loose.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Ashton said, moving slower in the snow and wind, swearing under his breath the entire time. “And shoot the fuckers if you catch them!”

He was tired of these “accidents” that kept happening often enough that someone had to be behind them. When he’d first come upon Ben in the barn, he’d thought the kid might have been part of the shit that had been occurring all too frequently lately.

Lucy honked as he pulled out. Ashton headed for his truck, with Marcel probably on his way to locate the horse. Aston had no idea how many were loose, and in this kind of weather, who knew how many they’d be able to find?

“Fucking Henderson!” He knew who was behind this, as well as previous incidents, but he couldn’t fucking prove it. The asshole had been after the ranch for years, pestering Ashton’s father to sell it to him more times than Ashton could count.

He got in the truck and was about to pull out when the passenger door opened and Ben climbed inside. “Maybe I can help.” He yanked the door closed and pulled on his seat belt, and Ashton didn’t have time to tell him to get out.

“Hold on, then.” He pulled out of the driveway and turned right toward the barn.

The road was caked with snow, and the wind made it hard to see. Still, he knew this area like the back of his hand, and he stayed on the road, turning into the barnyard. The door was closed. Lucy came out, hurrying over.

“Marcel is leading Marshall back. Belle and Hoover are still loose. I’m going to follow the tracks. Hopefully they aren’t far.” He set out quickly, carrying the rifle, which likely wouldn’t do much good because whoever had done this was probably long gone. Still, a little protection never hurt if things got rough.

“Come on. Keep your back to the wind if you can and go right on into the barn. I’ve got a heater in there that we can use to warm up the place for now. All the heat would have been lost with the door standing open.” Ashton climbed out and was fucking lucky he didn’t end up on his ass.

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