Cain Ranch (9781311658128) Read online

  Cain Ranch

  Chapter Two

  by A. Gaddis & C. Glover

  Copyright 2015 A. Gaddis & C. Glover

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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  The first few days at the farm really weren't that bad for Princeton. Well, it was an adjustment from going from having anything at your fingertips to nothing no where ever. Having to set a grocery day and make sure to get groceries for... awhile. And then there was Micah. Oh. Micah. There were good and bad things about the ranch. The good didn't outweigh the bad just yet, though. Prince had spent his day trying to work out finances but it was a task. The old owner didn't keep good books, and there were stacks of unpaid bills and an even higher stack of unopened bills. Prince set to work on that after he made something for Micah to eat for lunch (Princeton rarely saw breakfast). He settled on the couch with a bottle of wine, a notebook, and all of the bills and expenses. Few hours in, he was probably a little drunker than he should've been, but the ranch was far more in the hole than he expected it to be. Still, he was taking excellent notes and filing better than some people could do when he was sober.

  While Prince spent his day working out the finances (and sleeping in), Micah spent his day outside. As per his usual, he got up at dawn, had his lonely breakfast, filled his big to-go mug with coffee, and went outside to do the million things that had to be done on a horse ranch. That day, it was weeding. Yes, weeding. Weeds were a problem for horses because they could eat them and get sick. So, after giving all the animals their feed, Micah took the 4-Wheeler, hitched a little machine to the back, filled it with the weed killer/fertilizer, and drove out to the back pastures. Then he drove and let the machine spread the stuff around. That took him all morning. For lunch, he ate a couple baloney sandwiches in the barn, ignoring whatever Prince made. Micah puttered around a bit after lunch, rearranging things in the office (it looked empty and weird without all the papers Prince had taken). Basically, he was avoiding going back into the house. But eventually it was inevitable.

  Micah came inside in his usual quiet way. He took his hat and boots off immediately, leaving them neatly in their places by the door. "Afternoon, Princeton," he said as he passed by him, his voice polite as ever. When he smelled the wine, though, he froze, throat working. The cowboy didn't say a word, though, just frowned as he refilled his coffee.

  Princeton worked pretty diligently. He wasn't getting quite shit faced or anything, it was just taking the edge off per se. He was done with the things that had been open and stacked about when Micah came in from the outside, smelling like the outside. He looked up for a second and then went back to his work "Mm," he said simply at the greeting. "I... Have been doing the ranch's finances." They were so in the negative but he didn't want to share all of that with Micah, not yet.

  The cowboy did smell like the outside, like fresh grass and horses and dirt. He was even a little sweaty. He glanced at Prince as he passed but that was it. That open bottle of wine and the smell of it... Micah's nose wrinkled, and he swallowed thickly. That smell brought up bad memories, real bad.

  Forcing his hands not to shake, Micah refilled his coffee. Then he leaned against the kitchen counter in that typical cowboy pose to watch Princeton. "Oh. I'm...sorry?" He knew the finances were bad.

  Princeton was at least drinking from a glass and also he made it way too commonplace and natural to be drinking wine. Like people just did that. When Micah apologized, a smile brushed his lips. "It is pretty bad" he confessed, head tilting to the side for a moment. "Do... You want to come see? I'm not quite done. This is just the stuff that was a known problem. There..." He pointed to another stack, "That has to be opened and… read.”

  At least he was drinking from a glass? Micah didn't know the difference. His lips twitched upwards at Princeton's smile, though, a reflex. With a frown, he set his coffee down and walked over, bending over the papers. Micah peered at them, making a low grunt, as if he understood anything. "Iffen you need any of them vet bills explained, let me know..." was his only comment on the bills.

  Princeton took a dainty sip of his wine. "I'm sorry. Do you... Ah, want a drink?"

  The question brought his head up sharp, and he scowled. "No," Micah bit off, then turned back around for his coffee. That mysterious limp was back, twisting his steps.

  He frowned when Micah short answer replied to his drink offer. Was there something...wrong with drinking? He wasn't sure, but he saw that limp kind of come back and that meant Micah was pissed about something. "It's... just... wine." He tried to reason with him, but without waiting for a reply, he shrugged his shoulders and kicked back, "But whatever." And took another sip from his glass.

  There was a lot wrong with drinking... to the cowboy. Micah wanted to say 'it's just three in the afternoon,' but instead, he just said "Right." He bit off the end of the word because yes, he was pissed. Not only was he saddled with a snotty rich boy for a land owner, but a rich boy who got drunk at three o'clock in Micah's damn house.

  Picking up his coffee, the cowboy sat in the chair opposite the couch because he wasn't sure what else to do. He had a few free hours before he had to put some of the horses up. As much as he wanted to leave Prince to his drinking, he couldn't stomach the thought of going upstairs to be alone either.

  "Whatever..." Prince rolled his eyes. "Well.... if you're going to sit right there, do you mind explaining some of the vet bills to me? Just... perhaps... so I can categorize them into maintenance versus emergency?"

  Micah gritted his teeth when Prince rolled his eyes. Oh, he hated that. If the rich boy didn't want to be treated like a child, he shouldn't act like one. After a sip of his coffee, the cowboy pushed to the edge of the chair, leaning over to grab the stack of vet bills. Tugging reading glasses from his shirt pocket, he put them on and looked them over, lips pressed tight, silent because, well, Micah.

  "All right, easy enough," he said mildly after a while. "Well, the routine stuff is gonna be your vaccinations and dewormers, stuff like that. That's these." He leaned over to point to the veterinary jargon on the bill, the medicine names and whatnot. "Look at the dates on those, usually real regular. Doctor Palmer does routine physicals twice a year, that'll be marked like this." Then he showed them those bills, pointing out the dates again. "I keep the horses fit and in good feed, so they don't need much care. This may seem like a lot of money, but it's really not bad for the herd we got."

  Prince set his glass down and leaned closer to see Micah going through everything. There was a nod here or there and a soft sound of understanding. "Okay, so... each animal needs vaccinations twice each year. And then feed and such else would go under maintenance, too, and then there is emergency?" Prince looked at the numbers for a few moments. "Considering the price of a disaster. And there aren't any... major ones so far, I would have to agree." Prince concluded. "So how much money do you think we should have in an emergency fund? I know it's not there... now... but how much should be there?" Prince was taking notes again, also sipping his wine much to Micah's displeasure.

  "Yeah feed is maintenance, and we used to pay a farrier to cut all their hooves—they gotta be cut, like fingernails—but, uh, I learned how to do all that, so that's free now." Micah actually smiled, even as he shrugged off his skills. "Keep one of the old bills in case we need to call him, though." The cowboy was able to ignore the wine-
sipping, since Prince wasn't slurring his words or acting mean. If that business started... Micah would be different. But as it was, he could get on with the afternoon and be useful. "Hmmm, emergencies. Wait. Here. This was when Patches got bit by a snake. That counts as an emergency for damn sure." He handed over another vet bill, the biggest out of the stack of course. Snake bites were no joke.

  Prince eyed the bill, "Okay, so... With maintenance, I was going to add a couple hundred to the total of what needs to be earned to cover the bills." He eyed the bill for Patches. "I think this should be tripled... at the very least. What do you think?" His dark eyebrows quirked together, "Is that too much?"

  Setting one forearm on his knee, Micah leaned over the coffee table closer to Prince, putting all the vet bills back into a stack. "Sure." That was it; he didn't have any idea what to say about how they were supposed to earn that extra money. Or rather, how he was, since it was all him. He sat up when Prince mentioned tripling that bill. "But that's nine. Thousand. Dollars. How?" Micah had to stop, head tilted, one finger up. He swallowed, then continued. "How in the holy fuck do you think we're going to get that much money.... just to have laying around in case something goes wrong?" He never raised his voice at all, but damn if it wasn't intense anyway.

  Prince sighed and rolled his eyes again. Micah hated it, but seriously. "There are a few ways. I have been researching... and I know we talked a little bit about several options. First, you can offer private lessons or private training. We will have to figure out what you're worth, first, but a few good clients would take care of a good deal of money. Um... You... said" He blushed. "You'd ridden in the rodeo before, too." He glossed over that. "And advertising. The ranch needs a website... and we can advertise."

  "Yeah, yeah I remembered. I got my clients already, you saw them numbers." Low numbers, Prince saw. "I just gotta get me more. I really don't want to take on any more boarders, either, since they's more pain in the ass than it's worth." Micah frowned, idly rubbing his thumb over a scar on his chin as he thought about it. Steely blue eyes snapped to the rich boy when he mentioned the rodeo. Prince could gloss it over all he liked—Micha noticed. He took his time thinking about it, though, trying to remember what the prizes were at the locals. Ignoring Prince's comment about internet advertising, Micah kept chewing over the rodeo. After a while, he drawled, "Might could do a rodeo or three. Might could. Problem is, the high payin events are the ones most like to kill ya. I can ride me a bronc, but it slings me 'round too much."

  "I don't want you to take on more boarders either. If you take on more boarders we need to build a new stable and have an employee. Er... y-yeah." He shook his head, chewing his bottom lip for a second. "I think we need to look at what you're getting from the borders, how much it costs to take care of the horse and reevaulate it. Same thing with your clients. If you lose them... then you lose them."

  Micah breathed out a big sigh when Prince said he shouldn't take on more boarders, then got all tense again when he went on about reevaluating the costs. A little flustered, he blew out a breath. "Hell, Princeton, you're the numbers guy. I ain't good with all that. Just... gah. All the papers is there." The cowboy was looking pretty surly as he went through the papers on the table. Finally, he found the old folder Mrs. Whitson had made up for him that had all the information about the lessons, typed up and everything, with hand-written prices. He just looked at it for a second, then set it on top of everything else. "There. It's all in there. All the stuff about my lessons." Sitting back, he ran a hand over his face. He didn't want to lose any of his clients, though. Gritting his teeth, Micah saved that for another argument.

  Prince might've just been kind of turned on by the idea of rodeo, but all he knew was that Micah was going to look even more surly than he looked ordinarily. "Or racing... I don't know much about horses and betting I'm sorry. My mom really liked the Kentucky Derby but... Frankly I think horses stink."

  The cowboy just stared at him blankly. "That's.... betting's a whole nother thing." Then, wonder of wonders, the cowboy burst into laughter. "Shit, Prince. You're in the wrong business then!"

  Prince took the papers for the prices and then frowned when Micah started laughing. "What? They do stink! And it's not funny. Look." He was frustrated now. "I am just trying to think of ways to not keep sinking into the hole here." He was still frowning. "What kind of stuff can we do to make you look more credible in your knowledge of horses? Racing? Rodeo? I don't know..."

  Micah had been getting frustrated too because to him, adding up how much everything cost and then adding up how much he charged for everything and then putting all those numbers together and that was a lot. A whole hell of a lot for a cowboy. It made Micah feel like a dumb jock. But then Princeton was so damn cute with that complaint about the horses and his cheeks flushed from the wine and his green eyes bright... Micah took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short blonde hair, trying to stay on task. "Right. Right. I know." Then he scowled. "Wait, credible? The work I do is good, honest work. If you're thinkin I need a buncha shit on a piece a paper says I'm good at what I do, then you really are in the wrong kinda business."

  "Credible. Not..." He rubbed his temples. "No, I'm not saying you need a degree or anything like that. I'm saying... You need to be out there more. People need to know who you are, know your name. So if you do things, participate in things, even if it's just your horse that participates and not you... Or someone you've worked with, that... If you win, say, a race or a rodeo. Uh," he paused. "Race... then your name will be all over. And people will want to know more. Does this make sense? I mean... I know you're really good - I think you're amazing." There was another flush. It was the wine talking, had to be. "But if no one knows who you are, being really good doesn't mean anything."

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Micah stared at Prince while he babbled on. The cowboy really wanted to stay mad—Princeton was so frustrating. (I mean, Princeton! Could he have a more rich boy name?!) But damn if the rich boy wasn't also cute as hell. At Prince's blush, he cracked a smile, letting his arms relax and drop to the armrests. "All right, all right. I hear ya. I gotta get my name out there as a good rider, somebody who can handle a horse. And then get Nacoma's name out there as a horse that I trained. Then people what know horses will come to Cain Ranch. I got it." He tilted his head, smiling for a second at Prince. Then he seemed to realize he was staring. With a soft cough, Micah looked away and sipped his coffee.

  Princeton didn't notice he was staring; he was too busy going back to his drink, swirling the wine, downing it, and then pouring a little bit more. He didn't smell heavy of drinks but he definitely had been drinking, perhaps third glass... somewhere around there. He handled himself pretty well, too, but he'd be done soon. "Yes, that." He agreed finally, after he was back settled with the next glass. He was done taking notes, and now he was just relaxing. But Prince had nothing more to say, so he didn't speak.

  Micah's good mood soured a bit when he saw Princeton pouring more wine, and that soft smile flipped into a frown. Since he was done trying to read, he took off his glasses and set them aside. If Prince was waiting for Micah to start a new conversation, he was going to be disappointed because Micah was done. Just done. He looked at the fireplace with that unreadable expression.

  Prince finally looked back once he'd relaxed again, then he paused, seeing that frown. "What?"

  The cowboy shrugged. "Nothin. Guess we're done, then. With business." Since you're going back to getting drunk.

  "Well... yeah. I mean. Not completely. There's some more to look at but I was just taking a break."

  "Huh. Well, then I'm gonna go clean up. I stink like horse." With this surly comment, he pushed himself out of the chair, starting through the house to the stairs.

  ".... Okay, well then I guess I should go ahead and get started on dinner? If you're done outside for the day?"

  Micah paused when Prince replied. "I gotta put a couple horses up round sundown. Other than that, yeah." He took a couple
steps, then paused again, looking back at him with one hand waving generally at the wine. "This gonna become a regular thing? Gettin drunk on a Thursday afternoon?"

  "I'm not... drunk, first. And second. What do you mean by 'thing'? I didn't know a glass of wine here and there was against cowboy rules."

  Micah scoffed. "Oh, sure. I guess I mean drinking for no reason, then. On a Thursday afternoon. And it ain't a cowboy thing. It's a me thing." He sighed, running a hand over his face. "Look. Both my daddy and my momma were drunks. And worse. So I don't drink, I don't like people who drink, and I sure as shit don't like drinkin in my goddamn house on a Thursday afternoon."

  "Not... drunk," He mumbled again but then was quiet and he listened. "Okay... I'm sorry. I'm sorry they were drunks but I'm not a drunk and I like to drink wine. Not beer, not vodka, whatever... just wine. And? You don't like people who drink. You didn't like me anyway, so I guess I'm not losing all that much.. and I'll drink on whatever afternoon I please. Thanks, daddy, for telling me the day of the week."

  Micah... was so angry. And turned on? God, Prince was cute. His pale cheeks flushed when he called him daddy. Oh, that was just wrong. He couldn't even form a reply, just snarled and spun around on one heel to stalk through the kitchen and up the stairs.

  Oh the daddy was cruel and Prince knew it. "I'll get on dinner." He said sweetly just as soon as Micah stormed off.

  Micah paused at that mean-sweet comment, his hand clenching on the stair railing. After one sharp shake of his head, he continued up the stairs, disappearing into his room.

  Prince dutifully started on dinner, too. He slipped into the kitchen and got a glass of water (to lessen the blow of having a few small glasses of wine) and started moving around to decide dinner. Something really cowboy... something that Micah would actually like. He would like breakfast for dinner, right? Prince started making eggs, grits, all of those things, and bacon, hoping the bacon would carry up the stairs and call the frustrated cowboy back down... but in a more pleasant mood.