Dreamspinner Press Year Eight Greatest Hits

by Brandon Witt

“And we’re supposed to afford this on a teacher’s salary?”

  She shrugged. “Cedar County Feed just expanded. You think Mr. Bland might turn it over to you in a couple of years. Business is good.”

  “Nothing like counting chickens before they hatch.”

  Another shrug. “So, we take out a second or something.” She took a bite of the lemon squares her mother had made. Powdered sugar dusted her nose. “No time like the present.”

  Travis reached across the blanket and swiped his thumb across the tip of her nose. “And if I say yes? What do I get in return?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  “Whatever you want.” Shannon matched his expression.

  “What if I want it now? In advance?”

  Shannon made her voice sound shocked. “What if the buffalo notice?”

  “Jarrod has a whole harem. He’d understand.”

  “And if Mr. Walker should show up?”

  He leaned toward her, close enough that he could feel her breath on his lips. “Don’t try to make me lose the mood.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “And I’m so fat!”

  “You’re gorgeous.” He kissed her. “And you know it.”

  She kissed him back.

  SWEAT POURED over Travis’s back, not that it mattered. He was drenched. It was barely eighty-five degrees, but the humidity was thick and muggy. And it was only June. It was gonna be one scorcher of a summer. He rested the wooden plank against his thigh and motioned toward the ground a few feet away. “Would you hand me that, please? I guess I dropped it.”

  Mr. Walker swiped a red bandana over his forehead before bending to pick up the hammer and pass it to Travis.

  Taking the tool from him, Travis repositioned the board again so he could hold it steady while hammering in the nail. “I swear the fence was fine yesterday. Dunkyn and I stood right here and watched the buffalo last night.” He didn’t mention that Wesley had been with them.

  “I’m bettin’ it was those Smith boys. I caught them messing around in the field a couple of weeks ago.” Mr. Walker let out a disgusted breath. “That fat one probably broke the fence trying to crawl over.”

  “Really? You didn’t mention they’d been in.”

  “I don’t owe you explanations, Bennett.”

  Travis brought the hammer down harder than he needed to in order to keep from saying something he’d regret. “Well, I’ll swing by their folks’ house on the way home. Jarrod’s been getting kinda cranky, even with me. We’re lucky he didn’t charge at them.”

  Mr. Walker grunted. “Serve ’em right if he did. They’ve no business trespassing. And you mind your own business. I’ve already called their no-account parents. It’s their own problem if they can’t keep their kids in line.”

  Travis bit his lip. He was seriously getting sick of walking on eggshells around Emmitt Walker. There were moments it wasn’t worth it. But then, times like the night before, Wesley’s naked body in the moonlight, the screeching of the katydids and toads loud in their ears, made him continue to play submissive to his boss.

  Another couple of swings and the new board was secure. Travis stood straighter, his back popping. Lifting the bottom of his shirt, he tried to dry off his face. No use, the shirt was soaked.

  Mr. Walker cleared his throat. “So I heard there was some excitement over at the bowling alley last week….”

  Travis kept his voice measured and his attention fixed on the fence. “Oh yeah? People sure do love to talk.”

  “Yep. Sure do.” The man spit a brown stream into the grass. “Hear ol’ Squirt might be pressing charges.”

  Travis laughed, genuinely. “Not a chance. Jason and Wally Sinclair are drinking buddies from time to time.”

  “Still, a police chief has to do his job.”

  Travis looked over at Mr. Walker. “True, but it doesn’t help Squirt’s case that Sinclair caught him screwing his wife a while back.”

  Walker’s brows shot up. “Oh, didn’t hear about that.”

  From somewhere in the field Dunkyn barked.

  Travis ignored it. “Yep. Why do you think he divorced her?”

  Mr. Walker chuckled. “I like that Jason Baker. He’s a scoundrel, but a good guy.”

  Travis refused to look away from the other man. Shut up. Don’t push it. “Even if he’s best friends with a fag?”

  Mr. Walker opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by Dunkyn’s increasingly insistent barking. He looked toward the sound. “What the hell’s the matter with your dog?”

  Travis followed the sound, searching for the corgi. He was hard to see through the tall blades of grass. Dunkyn stood at the edge of the pond by one of the female buffalo. Travis squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “Oh shit.”

  “What?”

  Travis started climbing the fence. “If I’m seeing things right, Jane is giving birth, and she’s standing in the pond.” Jane was the only cow left to calf this summer. It was her first breeding season.

  “Ah, for fuck’s sake.” The older man followed Travis’s lead and climbed over the fence as well. He jogged after Travis, who was running full speed toward the pond.

  As Travis ran, he realized Jane wasn’t in the water but simply close to it. As she lay down, the calf was already halfway emerged.

  By the time Travis reached the water’s edge, Dunkyn’s hysterical bark was nearly hoarse. Just a few feet away, Jane gave a bellow, and a final push freed the baby buffalo, its slimy form slipping from its mother. Before Travis could reach it, the calf rolled down the small slope and into the pond.

  “Walker! Hurry up!”

  Without pausing, Travis rushed past Jane, who was struggling to stand, and into the pond. The calf was already submerged, but the water splashed from where it struggled.

  Even as quickly as Travis sloshed through the water, the calf had already slid six or seven feet from shore. The water came midway up Travis’s thigh, but as he slipped his arms under the wriggling form, the weight of the calf forced his legs deeper into the muck, sinking him up to his waist.

  The newborn was only forty or fifty pounds, less than the bags of feed Travis tossed around without extra effort. Still, with the kicking legs and his position in the mud, it was several moments before Travis could get a decent hold on the animal. Finally he was able to secure the calf to his chest, slipping his arms around the calf’s forelegs and keeping its head and upper body out of the water.

  “Wipe off its face, Bennett.”

  Travis heard Mr. Walker’s yell, but couldn’t make out the meaning over the splashing and the pounding of his own heart.

  Emmitt’s second yell got through to him. Locking his left arm into a tighter grip, Travis swiped his right hand over the calf’s snout, clearing away the birthing membrane, allowing the animal to breathe. At the motion, the calf slipped, and Travis buckled, momentarily allowing the calf to plunge beneath the surface of the water. With a yell, Travis managed to regain his hold under the foreleg, and he reared backward, the motion causing him to sink even deeper into the muck. He managed to get the exhausted calf’s head above water.

  “Fuck.”

  Travis glanced toward the cursing and saw Mr. Walker attempting to sludge through the water toward them. He took a breath and yelled at the man. “No. Get back. I got it. You go get the truck.”

  Mr. Walker only hesitated a moment before following the directive.

  Luckily, the trailer had already been hitched to Travis’s truck, so all Emmitt had to do was shove the tools off the trailer and then drive the truck through the gate.

  Within four minutes, Mr. Walker had backed the truck to the pond, allowing the trailer to dip into the water. Using ropes, he was able to secure the calf to the trailer while Travis continued to keep the baby’s head above the surface. A few minutes later, he drove the truck forward. For a second the tires spun in the muck, but they caught hold and pulled the calf free of the pond.

  Emmitt had the calf untied, off the trailer, and lowere
d onto the grass by the time Travis was able to free himself from the pond.

  Mr. Walker squinted at him in the sun. “You lost your boots.”

  Travis gave an exhausted laugh. “Yep. The catfish can keep ’em.” He walked closer and stood above the heaving calf. “It’s okay, you think?”

  “I imagine. Or will be. What a way to enter the world, huh?” Mr. Walker motioned with his chin to Dunkyn, who was sniffing at the calf. “Good thing for your dog.”

  Travis grinned. “Yeah, he’s a good one.” He looked around the field. “Where’s Jane?”

  Walker looked up, searching. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Dumb bitch.”

  Travis followed his gaze. Jane stood with the rest of the herd at the edge of the trees, grazing like nothing had happened. “Huh. She might not take to the calf after all that. Might need to bottle-feed this one.”

  Mr. Walker nodded. “Yep, bet you’re right.” He looked up at Travis from where he kneeled beside the calf. “You mind asking that vet of yours to come take a look at this one?”

  The request caught Travis off guard. “Um, yeah. You bet. I’m sure Wesley wouldn’t mind checking him out.”

  Emmitt nodded, turning back to the calf. That was as much thanks as Travis was going to get.

  “Mr. Walker?”

  He looked back up at Travis. “Yeah?”

  “I reckon my trial period is over. Don’t you?” If the man gave the wrong answer, he could go fuck himself. Pond and buffalo and memories be damned.

  Mr. Walker studied him for a minute before giving a slow nod. “Yeah. I reckon so.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “WHAT is it with you Missouri hillbillies and your blue cheese enchiladas? It’s not real Mexican food!” Wesley gave an exaggerated shudder.

  Travis smirked and took a large bite, intentionally speaking with his mouth full. “Real or not, either way, they’re delicious. And that’s the second time today you’ve called me a hillbilly. You developing a new kink I didn’t know about?”

  “Oh come on. Like you didn’t deserve that.” Wesley picked up his cell, and after tapping the screen a couple of times, turned it toward Travis to show him the picture Wendy had sent that morning. “You wore boots with your shorts to tend the cattle. Boots. Shorts. Together.”

  Travis shrugged. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, if you’re a fourteen-year-old girl. Otherwise, you’re a redneck.”

  “I thought I was a hillbilly.”

  Wesley gave him an exasperated stare. “And a hick too. A hick with pasty white legs.”

  Travis lowered his voice and leaned closer. “You like my pasty white legs. Thick. Hairy. And you like how they lead up to—”

  “Shut up!” Wesley glanced at the tables around them, unable to keep his grin in check. No one seemed to be listening.

  Travis leaned back in his chair, smiling in satisfaction. Something caught his attention and he looked over, raising his hand.

  Wesley followed the motion.

  Shelly took her time walking over to their table. “Yeah, Travis? Whatchu need? ’Nother beer?”

  He nodded. “You know me well, darlin’.”

  “Yep. Sure do. Knew your wife too.”

  Wesley glared at her back as she walked off toward the kitchen.

  “You might wanna put that knife down, Wesley.”

  He looked down at his hand. His knife was still safely tucked below the lip of his plate. “Very funny.”

  “Well, you looked like you were thinking about it.”

  Wesley was surprised at Travis’s smile. He’d expected Shelly’s comment to have shaken him. “Not a bad idea, now that you mention it. She’s always kinda a bitch.”

  “Nah. Let her be. People are gonna say what they’re gonna say.” Travis took another bite of the blue cheese mush.

  Breaking off an edge of his taco salad shell, Wesley considered Travis for a moment. “When you blindfolded me and told me it was an impromptu date night, I was expecting a candlelit picnic at the Walker farm or something.”

  “Are you kidding? A candle in a field with as dry as it’s been the past couple of weeks?”

  Wesley rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  Shelly returned and unceremoniously plopped the can of beer in front of Travis and swirled away before any other requests could be made.

  Travis took a swig, then let out a sigh. “So, what? You saying Gringos isn’t special enough for date night?”

  “No, it’s not that. I like Gringos, except for that thing you’re eating. Just a blindfold didn’t really hint at another dinner at Gringos.”

  Travis’s eyebrow rose. Mockingly or teasingly, Wesley couldn’t tell. “Were you expecting a ring?”

  “Shut up.” Wesley wished that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He hoped he wasn’t blushing and giving away the truth of Travis’s guess. From the heat in his cheeks, it seemed he was failing.

  Travis put down his fork and propped both elbows on the table, again leaning in toward the middle. “You’re a smart, educated man, Dr. Ryan. You telling me you can’t figure out what’s special about this dinner?”

  They’d been to Gringos at least a couple times a week in the past few months. It was Caleb’s favorite restaurant. Blue cheese enchiladas for him too. Again Wesley looked around at the other tables. A few of the patrons were glancing at the two of them out of the corners of their eyes from time to time, but for the most part, few were paying them any attention. Wesley didn’t see anything different about the place. He turned back to Travis. “No. I can’t say that I have any idea.”

  Travis looked genuinely disappointed. “We’ve never been to any restaurant in El Do by ourselves on a date. We always go to Nevada or Fort Scott or Collins.”

  It was obvious Travis had put thought into this date and Gringos meant something special to him, but for the life of him, Wesley had no clue. It made him feel like an ass. “Sorry, Travis. Spell it out for me.”

  “Fine. Guess I don’t remember how to be romantic.” Travis sighed. “Every other time we’ve eaten here, we’re with the kids and Wendy or Jason. We don’t stand out too much. But now, with it just being you and me, with all the talk around town. Well….” He shrugged, as if that explained everything.

  Wesley thought he was beginning to understand. “And the reason you told me to wear a scarf. In eighty degree weather….”

  The look in Travis’s eyes was deadly serious, almost challenging. “I want to make it clear to everyone that you and I are together—” He took a breath. “—and I want to make it clear to you that I want you exactly how you are. That I love you.”

  Wesley’s throat constricted with emotion, but he didn’t cry. He was not going to cry, dammit. Neither could he speak.

  Travis took another draft of beer, swallowed, and refused to look away. “Clear enough for you?”

  Wesley nodded.

  “After this, we’re going home, and when the kids are asleep, there’s another part to this date.” Travis waggled his finger at Wesley’s face. “And, no, there’s not a ring in that part either.”

  Mocking. Definitely mocking.

  WITH THE kids in bed and Wendy working on her online orders, Travis, Wesley, and Dunkyn walked out of the house under the night sky.

  “The rest of the date is in the barn?”

  Travis slid his thick fingers between Wesley’s and gave a little yank. “I’m gonna start thinking you’re high maintenance if you keep complaining about our dates.”

  “I’m not complaining. I’m just confused.”

  From somewhere out in the shadowy field, a cow bellowed. An owl screeched in response.

  “Just go with the flow. Trust me a bit.” Travis continued to lead him.

  Upon reaching the barn, Travis unlocked the sliding door and pushed it open.

  Without waiting, Dunkyn trotted inside. Wesley followed his example.

  Once they were in, Travis turned and slid the door closed once more. Without flipp
ing on the lights, he grabbed Wesley’s hand again and led him over to the ladder that went up to the hayloft. Pausing, he bent down and rubbed Dunkyn’s head. “You’re staying here for a bit, bud. Don’t wake up any chickens.” He looked back at Wesley and motioned up the ladder. “After you.”

  Even with Travis’s assurance there wasn’t going to be a ring, Wesley’s heart hammered as he climbed up the rungs of the ladder, which was stupid. He didn’t want a ring. It was too soon for a ring.

  Who was he kidding?

  As his head rose above the floorboards of the hayloft, Wesley gasped. Like a silly schoolgirl, he gasped.

  Across the expanse of the hayloft, the large square door for hay was open, exposing the sky full of stars. In front of the door, the hay had been swept clean in a massive circle. A large patchwork quilt was spread over the boards. Around the quilt’s perimeter, several clusters of lanterns were lit and glowing, filling the space up to the slatted rafters with flickering warmth.

  Not speaking, Wesley climbed the rest of the way into the loft and stood to the side while Travis joined him.

  Travis looked at him, a questioning expression on his face.

  Wesley had to clear his throat before words could form. “Travis, it’s beautiful.” Was he supposed to say thank you? That felt weird.

  “Good. Glad you like it.”

  Wesley looked around again, securing the sight in his memory. There was a bottle of wine, two wineglasses, and three cans of beer. A laugh burst from him. “Are you drinking wine?”

  Travis shook his head. “Nope. But I’ll drink my beer outta a wine glass, if you want.”

  Wesley laughed again. “You’re ridiculous.” He motioned toward the lanterns. “And I thought you were worried about fire.”

  “Well, it’s not like they were burning all through dinner or anything. Wendy came out here and lit them for me while we read to the kids.” Travis stepped toward the blanket and paused. “But this was my idea. She just helped.”

  “I love it.” Wesley closed the little distance between them. He cupped his hand over Travis’s scratchy cheek and lowered his head the few inches it took to kiss him.