by BA Tortuga
“Does she run a fever a lot?” Ap was watching the growing list with wide eyes.
“Nah, she’s just got a bug. They’ve all had it already.”
“Oh, okay. You’ll give me all the doctors and shit.” Ap grimaced. “How do I not know all this?”
“You’re home for Thanksgiving and then Christmas break. They don’t have activities then.”
“Right. I can order pizza tonight?” That was traditional.
“You can do whatever you want, man. You’re in charge.” He was going to get a room at the Santa Ana. He might sleep the entire week.
“Good deal.”
In a few days, he might feel bad for the guy.
“I’ll have my phone, if you have questions.”
“I’m sure I’ll have a million.” Ap laughed a bit, those bright green eyes fastened on him.
“I’m sure. You’ll do fine. I just… I need this.”
“Then you got it.” Ap was all smiles, but worry was lurking under there.
“I ain’t got cancer.”
“That’s what you said.” Ap shrugged. “It’s just not like you, Trey. You’re the rock.”
“Even rocks crack, man.” He hadn’t asked for this, any more than Ap had, but he was fucking tired of being the one holding down the fort.
Ap nodded again, almost like a bobblehead doll now. “You gonna stay tonight?”
“Yeah, I guess I should. Just to make sure Court is okay.” Dammit.
“Hey, you can go. I just wanted to catch up.” Now Ap was carefully looking away, not meeting his eyes.
“With me?” He couldn’t have hidden his surprise for love or money.
“Did you really buy a whole farm?”
“I did.”
“What the heck for?” Ap blinked, lips parted.
“The kids need animals for 4-H, and Betty needed money.” Simple as pie.
“You got notes for me on feeding?” Ap was good with the animals, at least, and not afraid of hard work.
“Yeah. I do the morning by myself a lot, although they’re supposed to take turns. They all help with the nighttime feeding.”
“Sounds good.” Ap sat there, back to staring at him.
“What?” Did he have puke on him?
“Huh? Nothing. Nothing. I’m hungry finally. Got over the puke.” Ap stood, then stretched up tall.
Lord, Ap looked like his brother, sure as shit—lean and redheaded, a little like a fox. Him and Tammy were more broad-boned, blond. Cole and Courtney looked like his side of the family, while the middle kids were McIntoshes to the bone.
“You want something? If you can’t handle oats, I can make eggs.”
“I’ll have oats. You won’t have to do much while I’m gone. I got all my work done.”
“Well, you know me. I’m a lazy bastard.” There was an edge to Ap’s voice that he wasn’t sure he got.
“You send your money home; I know that.”
“I do. I’m sorry if that’s been a problem lately. Me being somewhere else.”
“I’m tired. I’m damn near thirty years old, and I haven’t had…. I love these kids, but…. I’d never changed a diaper when they showed up.” He’d been saving for college, even. Now it was too late.
Ap stared at him for a moment. “I never—I mean, rodeoin’ is all I ever wanted to do.”
“And you done it. And you’ll go back to it. But I need a week to pretend that… to be a grown-up.”
That green stare changed, flaring with something like understanding. “Go on, man. Pack a bag and hit the road.”
“I’ll have my phone. I’ve talked to everyone, told them you were coming home. I want pictures from the dance. Remind Cole.”
“I will. We’ll be all right.” He got a gentle smile.
“Of course you will.” And if he didn’t get the hell out now, he wouldn’t go. “Call if you need me.”
His bag was already in his truck.
“You got it.” Ap lifted a hand to wave him off before going inside. Never looking back. Like this was easy. Fuck.
Well, shit. He guessed it was the Santa Ana for him, along with a nap and a couple three beers.
Chapter Three
AP thought he’d done okay.
Now, no one was home but Courtney, but he hadn’t let her die of fever. A shot of whatever the hell cherry-flavored nastiness Trey had in the medicine cabinet and a little bit of ginger ale had fixed her right up, and she’d stayed on the couch all day.
The other kids should be home. Soon.
The house was clean, kept up. It was a little creepy, if he was honest. There was no way so many people lived here.
He looked for the magnet for the pizza place on the fridge. He wanted to have dinner in the bag when they went out to feed. He’d never done all this without Trey before.
“Uncle Ap, is Uncle Daddy coming home soon? I need juice.”
“I can get you juice, baby girl. What do you want?”
“Apple juice?” She looked a little teary around the edges.
“Sure, kiddo.” If there was no apple juice in the fridge, he knew Trey kept the shelf-stable stuff in boxes in the pantry.
He opened the pantry, stunned at the sheer amount of shit in there. Christ, was Trey a prepper?
Cans and bottles, boxes and baskets. Potatoes, onions….
Juice. With an apple on the box. Boom.
Okay. Apple juice. Bingo.
He got her set up and then went to….
“Is there a guest room in here, honey?”
“Uncle Daddy made it Cole’s room. He says big boys need privacy.”
“Oh.” Well, shit. Where was he supposed to sleep? “Do you think I could stay in Uncle Daddy’s room until he gets back?”
“Uh-huh. He’s nice.”
“Cool. I’ll just go move my bag. Are you good with juice?”
“Yes. Are you going to spend the night for reals?”
“I totally am. We’ll have a slumber party.” Maybe he ought to make eggs and toast and save the pizza for when Court wasn’t puking.
“Oh! Oh, can we wear jammies and watch cartoons?”
“We can!” Fucking A. Ap wanted to flex and fist-pump a little. He’d hit on a great thing for her. He was sure Cole wouldn’t want to do that, but maybe a bribe….
Ap went into Trey’s bedroom, eyes widening at the sight of a perfectly made-up bed, a note on the pillow. Was there a chocolate too?
He grinned. Probably not. If he remembered right, Trey didn’t even like chocolate.
The note was simple: Stay in here. Sheets are clean.
Thank God. He dropped his bag on a chair in the corner, then indulged his nosy. He wandered around the room, marveling at how little he and Trey knew about each other.
The drawers were filled with undershirts and socks, some of which had seen better days. The closet had wrapped gifts for Christmas, starched shirts, and ironed jeans.
Two pairs of dress boots sat on the floor, along with a worn pair of hikers. A couple of silver buckles sat on the dresser, one of them a championship buckle he’d sent home three years ago. He ran his fingers over the surface, polished like it was new.
“Damn.” Huh. It was almost like Trey was missing him.
He kinda liked the thought. Ap chuckled. He was an idiot.
Like they had any real history—a clumsy kiss after Daniel and Tammy’s wedding, a couple of amazing nights after one of their anniversary parties. Then a couple three one-offs when they were both at the same place at the same time before a drunk driver took Daniel and Tammy and both sets of folks from them in one fell swoop. Then they were parents.
Then they’d never touched each other again.
He shook his head. Okay, he had to get his collective shits together before the kids got home. Maybe he should make a list.
A list. Right. Just listening to all the shit Trey’d rattled off was enough to make him dizzy. All he’d ever had to worry on was paying bills and getting to the next event.
<
br /> “Uncle Ap? I threw up.”
Lord help him. “Coming, baby girl.”
Oh man. Apple juice everywhere. Did they have a steam cleaner? He mopped it up, tucked her back up on the couch, and went to look for a shampooer or a spot cleaner. The garage yielded a Bissel thingee.
Lord, Trey was stupid organized. It was unnatural.
He would try to keep everything where it was supposed to be. Trey probably really did need that vacation if he was this buttoned-up.
Shame, really. The man was a jungle gym just waiting to be climbed, even now. He worked the shampooer over the hall carpet. He should talk to Trey about wood or tile. That would clean up way easier. If he went to the Stampede and won the big purse in November, they might could do it.
Who was he kidding? He sent tons of money home; why did they still have carpet?
He was gonna have to ask, he reckoned.
He needed to make that list. Ap hit Trey’s office, hunting paper and a pen.
There he found ledgers, all in Trey’s perfect square handwriting, bills in trays, the desktop computer, and about a zillion printed photographs of the kids, along with everything from scribbles to detailed pictures of dragons pinned to the walls.
Damn. He felt a little overwhelmed by all the paper. Doctor bills and physicals, repairs on the tractor, tax bills. Feed store receipts by the thousands. He sifted through, frowning.
A milking stool? Seriously?
What the hell had Trey bought out from the neighbor? Last year there had been cows, horses, Sancho the donkey, and a dozen barn cats besides the dogs…. Which, where the hell were the dogs?
“Courtney?” He peeked in on her. Asleep. Huh.
Dogs. Right. There have to be dogs.
He took the dirty water cartridge out to the yard to empty, and when he stepped down off the porch, there were dogs. Five of them running at him, tails like flags.
Lord have mercy, he only recognized Miss Lucy, the pit bull, and the corgi twins, Phineas and Ferb.
“Hey, guys.” He sat on the back steps while the lab mix barked at him a little. He could just make out the tag. Bilbo. Lucy remembered him too, licking him until he laughed out loud.
A little pit bull—maybe two-three months old—came up, so shy, wiggling his butt off.
“Hey, buddy, can I see your tag? SpongeBob? Seriously?” He rubbed those floppy ears, glad to see no one had cropped them. “I bet Trey calls you Bob, huh?”
He couldn’t imagine the stuffed shirt calling him SpongeBob.
Cute dog, though. Phineas and Ferb pushed everyone else out of the way, both of them climbing on him. He’d known them longest. “Hey, guys. Oof.”
“Uncle Daddy had to have Anna put down. We all cried. Uncle Daddy too.”
“Hey, what are you doing up? You need to rest.” Anna had been a damn good dog. A big herding dog, totally all fur. “I’m sorry about Anna. She was a good girl.”
“She was, but she’s in Heaven with Jesus and Momma and Daddy.”
“She is.” His eyes stung all of the sudden, and Ap blinked it away.
She came to him, hugged him hard. “It’s okay. Uncle Daddy promised they are happy and watching over us all.”
“Thanks, baby girl. How do you feel?” Her forehead felt way less hot, so maybe puking had been a product of the spike, and now it was going down.
“Better. I’m glad to see you. We miss you.”
“I miss you guys too.” He tried hard not to think about it on the road, but now his belly hurt.
“Do you want to see the ’nagerie?”
“I totally do.” Time to see what he was up against.
“I need my boots. There’s poop.”
“Okay, hon. You grab those, and I’ll get some carrots.”
“They like carrots. All of them.”
“Do they?” He shooed her off, grinning. “Boots.”
All of them. What all was out here? He grabbed a bunch of carrots, precut he noticed, and headed to meet Court at the door again.
She led him down to the barns and the pastures beyond. “Ellie and Emma are our ostriches. They have to stay in the pasture by themselves. They hurt, ’kay?”
“So I let Cole feed them?” he teased. Ap was pleased at how easy Courtney was. He had a feeling the older kids might be more challenging.
And ostriches?
“Cole does when Uncle Daddy isn’t home. They aren’t tame.”
“Why do we have ostriches, baby?” He took her hand when she held it up.
“’Cause the lady with them wanted a new commode put in and three new lights, but she didn’t say she couldn’t pay ’til after.”
“Oh.” Oh, man. Why was Trey doing extra work? He needed to look at the accounts.
“Yeah. Uncle Daddy cussed at her because she screwed Cole over.”
Cole. Ouch. Poor kid. He was trying to get spending money and got fucked? He was gonna have to talk to this woman. “So we get stuck with the ostriches? Weird.”
“Cole sells the eggs. Come meet Jennifer and Yark.”
“Jennifer and Yark….” He followed Court to a small pen where a couple of very stunted, shaggy bovines stood, chewing grass. Ap blinked. “They look like tiny yaks.”
“Jennifer and Yark. Yark’s a boy. Jennifer’s pregnant.”
“They’re really yaks?” He’d seen the real things. They were huge.
“Uh-huh. They’re fuzzy.” Courtney was so damn easy.
“And they like carrots?”
“Uh-huh. So does Sancho. He’s the donkey.”
“He’s a good ’un.” Christ.
“Uh-huh. He’s going to be mine when I do 4-H.”
“Nice!” He’d done 4-H with steers. “Is someone doing mini yaks?”
“Bella. It’s no fair. I wanted the yaks.” Court pouted for a second, then grinned. “But I can play with them and love on them. Amelia wanted a potbellied pig for the house, but Uncle Daddy said no.”
“No, I bet. What about Braden?” The kids told him things on the phone, but that went so fast.
“I gave him the chickens. They were hard.”
He looked out over the pasture, and the place looked like a fucking petting zoo with bulls.
Whoa.
“Are those bucking bulls, Court?”
“Uh-huh.”
“When did Uncle Daddy get those?” Maybe those should be his 4-H project.
“He’s been working with Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Moe since I was a baby. They went to their first… uh… fake rodeo? A turdy?”
“Futurity.”
“Right. They did that this summer.”
Why didn’t he know this? God knew, he and Trey weren’t close, but they were partners until all the kids were grown. He resented it a little, not knowing where his money was going. How much had these bucking bulls cost? How much of his hard-earned pay was in this menagerie?
Ap shook it off for now. He’d yang at Trey about it. Right now he needed to figure out feeding schedules, when to gather eggs and… milk.
“Court, baby? Does Uncle Daddy milk?”
“Uh-huh. The nanny goats—Pip and Pop. Two times a day.”
“Okay.” Okay, he could do this. Cole could teach him. God. “And you have cows and horses, right?”
“Uh-huh. Ten horses and lotsa cows, but they’re not pets.”
“Right. They’re work.” He winked at her and got a grin. “Such a helper.”
“I am. I’m going to be a cowboy like Bella.”
“Are you?” Bella was twelve, and she was a cowboy already?
“Uh-huh. Or maybe a ninja. Amelia is going to be a mommy and a knitter.”
“Well, good for her.” He was just utterly lost.
“Braden is gonna be a teacher, and Cole’s gonna play football for the Longhorns.”
“How are his grades?” He fed carrots and let Court do some too.
“Uncle Daddy got him special classes after school sometimes, but I don’t need them.” Look at her strut.
> “Well, I’ll have to sit down and talk to everyone one at a time about school.” By the time the horses got carrots, Courtney was drooping, so he swung her into his arms for the return trip.
“I love you.” She nuzzled into his neck with a sigh. “I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m glad to see you, baby girl. I miss you so much when I’m on the road.”
“Do you? Me and Amelia and Uncle Daddy pray for you every night.”
“Oh.” That made his heart squeeze a little. “I can use all the prayers I can get.”
“That’s what Uncle Daddy says.”
His lips twisted. “He does, does he?”
“Uh-huh. He says you got a dangerous job.”
Every fucking time he started to let himself get mad at Trey, Court ruined it. Trey surprised him. Ap wasn’t sure he liked it.
“I do. You ever get to see me on TV?”
“Uncle Daddy DVRs it for us.”
“Yay.” Yeah, he’d bet Trey screened it first too. That, he was grateful for. The kids didn’t need to see him get beat around.
They headed back to the house, and the house phone started ringing as he walked up the stairs. He grabbed it and answered.
“Mr. Williamson? This is the nurse. Amelia is running a fever and needs to be picked up.”
“Hey. This is Dennis McIntosh, their other uncle. I’m on the list to get her, right? Trey is out of town.”
There was a moment of silence, then typing, then a sigh. “Yes, yes, you are. If you’ll just bring your ID, that would be excellent.”
“I can do that. Give me fifteen.” He knew where all the schools were, so he just needed to get Court in the….
Shit. Did Courtney still have to be in a car seat? “Baby girl? I need you to put on slippers or shoes. Amelia is sick too.”
“Okay. Poor Amelia! She hates missing school.” Courtney ran to the back of the house.
Ap looked at the clock—11:00 a.m. He’d been doing this for two and a half hours. He was gonna die. He trotted out to the truck, and damn if there wasn’t a booster seat buckled into the back of his king cab. Phin and Ferb barreled around the corner, begging to go with.
“Okay, okay. You can ride up front and the two sickies can be in the back.”
“Oh yay! Can we get an ice cream? Or a limeade from Sonic?”
