Catching Walleye from the dock
Watching the waves roll off the rocks
She'll forever hold a spot inside my soul
We'd blister in the sun
We couldn't wait for night to come
To hit that sand and play some rock and roll
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel in time of the song, letting my left arm rest on the sill of the open window of the truck. The truck, a black Ford 4x4, was quieter this morning that it usually was which was a blessing in itself. One more mile to go and we'd be in Silver Springs, Nevada, so we could gas up and I could visit their feed store to pick up Rose's food.
Rose, who had her head stuck out the open window of the passenger seat, wagged her tail, as if responding to my thoughts. I chuckled, reaching towards her and snapping my fingers. She leaned away from the window and got completely inside of the truck so I could rub her head without taking my eyes off the road.
Classic's River Rose - her registered name - was a blue merle Australian Shepherd with the sleek coat to show it. She was sturdy-boned but the right weight, her coat was sleek and not too long. Even though her showing days were likely to be over - we now longed for work more than shows -, she still had the Aussie sass to show that she knew what she was doing.
I got off the first exit and took a turn, the road leading me off the bridge and then under it as we entered the small, peaceful town of Silver Springs. A sign, complete with illustration of man and horse working in symphony, greeted us as we slowed. I glanced at the built-in dashboard clock - we had made good time, it was only eight thirty-five. And we had made it without losing my Honda off the back off the truck. Which was, to say the least, a plus.
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The feed store - Nutrena Feeds - was like the town. Small. I was a bit worried that they wouldn't have the dry dog food I was looking for, as it has happened way too many times before. But it seemed my worries were unneeded as I swung open the door and entered. Rose, always by my side, trotted in beside me with her fur touching my knee, being a good girl. I had walked into a feed store twice with her, and both times the workers had gotten severely ticked off at me for it. Which was ironic, because Rose was cleaner than they were.
I could hear the chicks, nestled safely in their bin, clucking. A couple of weeks after Easter, I was surprised they weren't all gone by now. Easter, as well as Christmas and birthdays, seemed to be an "impulse-Lets-Go-Buy-A-Pet-And-Then-Lose-Interest-A-Few-Days-Later" holiday. I should know; my family's kennel made it a policy never to sell an animal in the same month as Easter, and very strict adopting rules around Christmas.
The man behind the counter, who was in his mid-fifties, looked up from the newspaper he was reading. He smiled at me and I held up a hand in greeting, before heading towards the general direction of the dog section.
"Can I help you, son?" The man asked, folding the paper and lying it down on the table. I turned around, narrowly avoiding stepping on Rose's paws.
"Dog food, preferably without corn or wheat."
The man nodded at Rose. "Food allergies, I'm guessing?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, I've never tried her on anything else."
The man nodded and rose from his stool, swinging open a waist-high door and walking towards the back of the store, motioning me to follow. Rose trotted at my heels as I broke into a swift jog to catch up to to the guy ; he was fit for his age.
The man pushed open a door that lead to a storage-type place and lead me over to a pile of dog food, neatly stacked by brand. Purina, Beneful, and Ol' Roy were the most common. However, there were others as well and I was glad to see Caliber Ten; the brand I always preferred to use. It took an hour at least to dig through different brands of dog food to make sure there were no corn, wheat, animal by-products ((hey, I wouldn't want to eat chicken beaks and I doubt Rose would either!)), or other unhealthy foods.
I dug out two bags and stacked them on top of each other, then lifted them. They were low-priced, probably because not many people bought them because they bought the most advertised brands that they saw on TV or the Internet.
"You're new around here, I'm guessing?" The man asked as he rung up the bags of dog food.
"Yeah; just drove in from Reno today." I replied, setting the bags down on the counter.
The man nodded, before the cash register binged and he told me the price. I pulled my wallet out from my back pocket and paid the amount. "You wouldn't know any one needing hired help, do you? Not like shops or anything, but ranches?"
He thought about it. "I think Gold Dust is the only ranch looking for help right now. Jed's named it something else but I can't remember it for the life of me."
"D'you know his address, by any chance?" I asked, hopeful. Work was right I needed right now; if we didn't find some soon we'd have to take working in shops and sleeping in the truck again.
As he scribbled down the address, I glanced at the full mirror by the counter. My messy oak-brown hair fell into my eyes, my bright green eyes were calm, yet tired. I was average height for an eighteen year old boy; neither short nor tall. My black T-shirt was fitting yet not tight, my jeans were faded but not torn. Dirty gray tennis shoes were on my feet.
"What's your name, son?" The man asked, as he passed me the paper. I folded it neatly and stuck it in my back pocket, picking up the bags and shifting my weight from one foot to another.
"Jase." I told him, smiling, before biding him farewell.
I breathed in the sweet smell of fresh, morning air as I loaded the bags into the back of the truck. Rose apparently felt the same way, because she was looking at me expectantly as she sat by the tailgate. I smiled at her. "Load up, then."
With an agile leap she jumped in the flatbed of the truck, ducking beneath the Honda three-wheeler so she could move in the front, jumping on top of the silver toolbox. I smiled, rubbing her behind the ears before I swung open the driver's door and slipped inside. I dug the paper from my back pocket and checked the date on my calendar in the passenger seat; Monday. Good enough time as any to go and check out Gold Dust Ranch.
I enjoyed the drive over there. Reno had been busy and loud; too many cars, people, and smoke for my taste. I had always been a small-town boy, living in the far country, riding motorbikes at five years old and running with the dogs at four. I longed for the wind in my face, the feel of speed as the landscape passed me by as the motorbike soared high in the air, twisting and turning. I longed for the dirt racetracks with the sharp turns, high hills to jump, and hale bales to overcome. Maybe one day I would be able to return to the thrilling sport called Motor Cross. One day.
I turned on the CD player and slid in a CD of Augastana's, and listened as Sweet And Low lyrics filled the cab of the truck as I kept a eye on the rearview mirror where Rose stood on the toolbox, tongue hanging out and ears flying. I drove out of town and turned onto a dirt road, drumming the rhythm onto the steering wheel like before as my eyes searched the road for any oncoming cars. When I saw none, I increased my speed a little. Rose gave a joyful bark as she spotted, presumably, a rabbit leaping from behind a bush and across the road. She pranced on one side of the silver toolbox before walking to the other end, repeating the process.
Finally we reached Gold Dust. I slowed considerably, not wanting to appear like a hot-rod. I lowered the volume of the CD until it was background noise compared to the low growl of the truck and rolled to a stop, a few feet away from the ranch house. The place looked expensive - and for a minute I seriously considered turning tail in the other direction. The last thing I wanted to do was end up working for a class A jerk.
However, I was comforted slightly as a pretty young blond around 16 stepped out from the ranch house, wearing owlish glasses. Immediately she saw my truck, and she froze in confusion. Knowing that turning around now would be rude, I killed the engine and slid out from the truck. Rose, at my command, jumped off the flatbed and followed at my heels.
The blond, I saw, was wearing black jeans and a blue T-shirt, with the words "Sarcasm is one of the free services I offer," scrawled across it. The corner of my lips tugged upwards slightly, liking her almost immediately just because of her shirt. Her blond hair was in a ponytail that fell down the middle of her back, her glasses completing the image.
"Hi," She said as I approached, near enough to hear. She seemed friendly enough.
"Hey," I said, stopping once we were close enough to hear each other normally. "I heard that you were looking for hired help. I was wondering if you still needed it."
She nodded. "Yeah; we do. Dad doesn't advertise it around much so we're a bit shorthanded."
I nodded slowly, not really knowing what to say.
"Dad's went out already, so you'll have to wait around for a bit until he comes back. Would that be okay?"
"Yeah. Sure." I said, giving her a smile. I hooked my thumbs in my jean pockets; a nervous habit I had. I thought it'd be easier; asking for jobs. Hell, I'd been doing it for so long, nearly a year now. But I had this shy streak that made it hard nevertheless.
"Jennifer!" The front door of the ranch house swung open, revealing a woman who was also blond. "What's taking you so -"
She stopped mid-sentence as she saw her daughter, and then her eyes slid to me. Jennifer turned around to face her.
"Hey, mom." At her mother's curious look, Jennifer went on. "He's looking for work. I told him he had to wait for Dad to come back."
"Ma'am." I said, nodding. Rose leaned against my legs and I looked down at her. Jennifer and her mother followed my gaze and I saw Jennifer smile. Rose tended to have that effect on people.
"Come on in, Mr...?" Jennifer's mother asked.
"Jason Whitewater. Most people just call me Jase. " I replied. Jennifer's mother smiled and motioned for me to follow her into house. To Jennifer she said, "Please go get the milk, Jen."
As Jennifer went at a trot towards the big house, I walked towards her mother and hesitated outside the door.
"Your dog can come, too." She said, smiling. "If she doesn't mind being the company of a Chihuahua and a hyperactive Jack Russell."
Rose followed at my heels when we entered the house. Her tail wagged in friendly greeting when we reached the living room and two dogs jumped off one of the sofas. A shorthaired black and tan Chihuahua barked once, before coming over and cautiously sniffing the larger dog. The Jack Russell just wanted to play.
The living room was small but homely; with two sofas (one tan and the other one dark brown) and a entertainment set, complete with TV, against the far wall. The carpet was light brown, looking as if it had been newly shampooed. The walls were a light blue, the paint slowly chipping. The next hallway lead into the kitchen and then into the bedrooms and wreck room, I guessed. As Jennifer's mother motioned for me to sit down, I chose an armchair. I leaned forward, rubbing Rose's head as she sat down at my feet. The two toy dogs then took to checking me out; sniffing my jeans and the Jack Russell stood on his hind legs so he could get a better look at me. I held my hand out and they sniffed it, before losing interest and jumping back up on "their" couch.
"I see you're good with dogs. They usually go berserk whenever someone comes in here."
I shrugged. "I grew up around dogs."
She smiled. "I'm Lila, Jen's mom. Jed should be back pretty soon - he went out to check on the cows. The cattle drive is coming up soon so he wants to make sure none of the cows get hurt before they can get moved up into the mountains."
I nodded, and was saved from having to reply as Jen swung open the door and passed us on the way to the kitchen with a jug of milk. "Ryan said he'd go to the store and get some more in an hour or so." She said absentmindedly, heading towards the kitchen door as I wondered briefly if Ryan was one of the ranch hands - her brother, maybe?
Lila, I noticed as she followed her daughter into the kitchen, was an older version of her daughter. She had the same honey blond hair, the tall figure, the owlish look to her even though she wasn't wearing glasses. The only thing that was different was the apparent age and that she had different colored eyes.
I glanced at the oval clock high on the wall - it had taken two hours and thirty-five minutes to drive from town to this ranch, which made it ten o' clock, if the clock was correct. Which it most likely was - Lila seemed like the kind of person who liked to have every thing perfect, including time.
"Oh, Jase." Lila said, sticking her head around the door. "Jed's riding in right now. If you wanna go talk to him, I suggest you do it now when he's in his best mood. Well, in his best mood if nothing went wrong. Well, considerably good mood."
Gee, that was reassuring. Thanks.
I nodded and rose from my chair, Rose rising with me. I petted her on the head for reassurance before I started for the hallway. I barely noticed anything else as I opened the front door and stepped out onto the newly-painted porch, shielding my eyes from the sun as I did so. Jed, riding a golden-colored horse commonly named a Palomino, was dismounting and then continued on to un-tack his horse. He didn't notice me, so I stepped off the porch and started my way across to him. He didn't look up.
He did, however, when he heard my footsteps on the harsh gravel.
"I heard from some one in town that you're looking for ranch hands," I started, hands in pockets. "I'm considerably well with animals, and I was wondering if the position was still available."
"Have any experience with horses?" He asked, ignoring my question.
"Nope."
"With cattle?"
"Sheep are more of my game."
"What about work?"
I grinned. "That's more of my area, yeah."
He nodded, slipping off the saddle and saddle pad off his horse while it stood patiently (The horse, not the saddle pad). He then set it on the railing of the fence before slipping on a halter and un-doing the bridle. I may have not had any experience with horses personally - some with burros since my family had owned them for years - but I did learn quickly and a couple of my past boss's had horses.
"The job is still open." He said. "Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, two days a weekend, twelve months a year. Think you're up for it?"
I nodded, then relised he wasn't looking at me so he couldn't tell. "Yes."
"The pay would be little; but you'd have a bunkhouse to yourself, food and other necessities would be provided."
"That would be fine. That's all I'm looking for, anyway.
He nodded. "Good. You'll start tomorrow."