Harry was sipping orange juice from a glass he'd found in a cupboard in the bunkhouse when Johnny pulled Cactus up at the hitching post. Johnny was wearing an odd smile. It was something between a grin and a grimace. Happy, gloomy or indifferent. . . . Harry didn't know as he wasn't accustomed to Johnny's countenance yet. Cactus was throwing his head and blowing.
Harry met Johnny at the bunkhouse door, being careful not to be seen from the outside.
"What's wrong with him?" Harry inquired regarding Cactus.
"He wants to keep movin,' always impatient," Johnny seemed resigned to his horse's intemperance.
"You don't have to hide, Lou knows you're in here," Johnny informed him, making Harry catch his breath.
"He does?"
Johnny nodded, looking just a tad shaken up.
Harry soon found out the source of Johnny's unsettled manner. As they got into one of the ranch's flat bed trucks, Johnny turned to Harry and let out a huge blast of air, puffing out his cheeks, as if he had barely escaped something menacing.
"You'll never guess what I jus' did, Harry." Johnny looked preoccupied, his eyes gravely serious, yet they also sparkled. Harry couldn't figure out why the man looked beat and auspicious at the same time.
"What?" asked Harry, alarmed.
"I hope I didn't make a mistake. I was talkin' to Lou, tryin' to talk him into thinkin' about hirin' you . . ."
Johnny hesitated, dragging it out, prolonging Harry's agony.
"Johnny, tell me!" cried a very concerned Harry.
Johnny snapped back to reality, and sighed long and deep, Texas style. Harry was still adjusting to the fact that you never knew how long it might take to get an answer, even if it were a critical matter. It wasn't altogether intentional; just a Texas trait.
"I reminded him that no one we've contacted wants to be temporary help, and that, with spring round-up comin,' even inexperienced help was better 'n no help."
Harry tried . . . oh how he tried, not to get hopeful.
"He gave me a right hard time, cussin' a blue streak the likes that even I've not heard before, but in the end, he agreed that if you can learn fast, the way you say you can, he'll give you a shot."
Harry gasped, instantly flooded with relief that made him weak.
"But . . . Johnny emphasized, "only for the spring round-up. And he's in a godawful mood 'cause he thinks it was probably the wrong decision."
That last sentence didn't trouble Harry. He knew that he'd be able to win Louis over not only for the spring round up, but as a permanent hand afterward, because he was going to throw everything he had into this. Work as hard as he could, learn as much as he was capable of learning. Or die trying.
"I'll do me absolute best. And Johnny . . . " Harry blushed, allowing himself to be vulnerable in his humility. "Thank you, man. Thank you." The older cowboy had really taken a gamble on Harry's ability and sincerity when he'd poured it on thick to Louis.
"Jus' don't make me look bad."
In town, it was a challenge for Harry to get the money to the cashier before Johnny could peel off a couple of bills from his wallet. New fan belt in hand, Harry followed Johnny to a feed store and they loaded the flat bed with some supplements for pregnant mares, grain, linseed oil and bran.
"I'll jus' give you one piece of advice," Johnny said to Harry back at the ranch, after he'd finished installing Harry's new fan belt. "When the hands come in for lunch, and Louis comes at you salivatin' like a rabid coyote, you'd better high-tail it outta Texas right quick." Johnny smiled teasingly, and Harry nevertheless knew from prior comments of Johnny's that Louis was a man of integrity, and that if he had told Johnny he would hire him, he would keep his word. This was Johnny's way of joking around.
Harry helped to put the feed away, and before he knew it, the cowboys were riding in for lunch. He didn't know if Nick and Niall, the other two ranch hands, knew what was going on, but suspected they hadn't been told yet.
Their curiosity piqued to the fullest, they cast glances at Harry, nodding in greeting, and he sensed they were dying to solve the mystery of why this strange young man with the baby face and long hair was hanging around, even though they'd heard Louis order him off the ranch for the last two days.
The cook, a portly man in his late forties, offered Harry lunch, and he tried to eat, sitting next to Johnny on the bench outside the bunkhouse with the others, but his nerves were so fragile that he felt as if he would choke on his food. He only got half of the thick ham and cheese sandwich down.
The few times Harry dared to look at him, Louis looked aggravated. He sure was a grump, and Harry found himself wondering if this was frequent, ongoing behavior.
He was regretting hiring Harry, and Harry knew it.
After lunch, Louis took Johnny aside and said a few words to him, his face a mask devoid of emotion. Then Louis rode his horse off briskly.
"It's official. Lou will give you your first check tomorrow, when you report for work. He's givin' you an advance, somethin' I ain't never seen him do before," Johnny tried to train his features into a look of indifference, but Harry felt his elation. Johnny was truly happy that Louis had given Harry the job.
"And don' worry about the salary. Louis' generous, as long as you carry your share of the workload."
This must be a dream! Harry was pretty sure he knew why he was getting an advance. Because of his dire circumstances. So . . . looked like Louis Tomlinson did have a heart after all.
After Johnny advised Harry to check out of his motel because it would no longer be needed, he informed the Brit that he'd now, as of tomorrow morning, officially be living in the bunkhouse.
"You'll embarrass Louis if ya don't work out," Johnny warned. He was clearly still stewing about the wisdom of his actions.
"Oh, I will, Johnny. There's no way I'll mess up. Louis will see that he didn't make a mistake."
"I told Lou I had a good feelin' about yer sincerity. Now come on . . . I'll show ya which bunk beds ya can choose from."
After Harry had chosen his bunk bed—a top one, Johnny introduced him to Niall, as Niall was the only one Harry hadn't yet met. By now, Niall and Nick had figured out Harry had been hired. Niall was a cheerful guy who looked roughly Harry's age, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Harry liked him on sight. Niall seemed to be very gregarious, and welcomed Harry with a wide smile. His eyes twinkled, and he looked like he could get into his share of mischief, given the chance.
Louis and Niall were both jarred when they heard each other's accents.
"What do ya know?" marveled Niall. "You're a Brit!"
"And you're Irish!"
"Yeah," said Johnny. "Sounds like it was set up, but it wasn't. Jus' happened that way. Louis and his dad came from England originally, and Niall happened to be driftin' through, lookin' for a job jus' like you, Louis. And now the Rockin' Horse Ranch has two Brits, an Irishman and two Americans!"
"I guess we're the odd ones out—we're outnumbered!" joked Nick, and Johnny chuckled.
Okay, so the kid had almost knocked Louis for a loop. The friendly, polite manner, the almost too-innocent bearing which Louis hadn't figured out was entirely real or not, the vibrant green eyes that were almost too beautiful to gaze at, the curls, and the dimples thrown in there too, as if all the above weren't enough.
The kid had to be the prettiest guy Louis had seen in perhaps ever. Too bad he was green as grass—claiming he could ride, which, by the way, Harry seriously doubted. No ranch experience whatsoever. He'd be totally useless, and would only get in the way, making the job the others had to do even harder, as they'd have to stop constantly to show and explain things to him-things that would not be necessary with an experienced ranch hand. What had made him hire Harry? He'd never done such a dumb ass thing before.
But Louis did know why. Everyone deserved a chance. That was why.
Still, having noble reasons didn't change the facts. Hiring this guy really was a joke. The only good reason to have him around would be so Louis could look at him, but that could prove to be hazardous, as Harry would no doubt distract Louis to no end. And that's just what happened—starting on Harry's first day of the job.
Harry was so excited, he could scarcely draw air into his lungs. He planned on proving himself many times over. The hardest part would be getting the hang of things.
He drove up the next morning right before dawn, having checked out of the motel room, his Rover no longer squealing, and that last part made Harry smile despite the early hour. He entered the bunkhouse, suddenly feeling shy. Johnny, Nick and Niall smiled at him, even though they were still groggy from sleep. Louis pointedly looked the other way.
Was Louis forever going to resent him for the way he was put on the spot to hire him?
They ate pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage along with copious amounts of the strongest coffee Harry had ever had. He guessed what he'd heard about cowboys liking strong coffee must be true. It was alright though, as Harry needed it. He had never been a morning person.
The cook was truly amazing, everything tasting fabulous, and he was referred to as "Cookie." He and Nora, the housekeeper, were the only employees Harry knew of other than himself, Nick, Niall and Johnny.
Louis approached Harry right after breakfast and shoved an envelope into his hand, without even saying "good morning" or offering any kind of greeting.
"Put it somewhere safe. Don't lose it," Louis cautioned as he headed for the corral holding the remuda of horses. Harry started to put the envelope in his jeans pocket, but quickly discarded this idea. What if he got wet, or his jeans were somehow torn? So instead he put it under his pillow on his bunk. He'd look at it tonight—no time right now.
Johnny explained the rest to him. Harry assumed Louis didn't want to be bothered, so had evidently assigned the job to Johnny.
"You'll work long hours, jus' like the rest of us, and that includes six days a week durin' the busy season, which is now through summer. Louis lets everyone take Saturdays off when it's possible, but that doesn't come often in spring and summer. Autumn and winter are slower, and sometimes, due to weather, we work only a few days a week.
"But you'll still receive your salary, year round, and it won't fluctuate. So you can count on a regular paycheck. You'll get one week paid vacation after workin' one year, and two weeks thereafter. Louis also pays for half of the medical insurance. The other half will be taken from your paycheck. No overtime is paid, considerin' the fewer workin' hours in the cooler months. It all evens out in the end. Obviously, vacations can only be taken in autumn and winter.
"Each man gets his own personal ridin' horse. That'll be the horse you spend the most time on; your best mount. But when there's a lot of work, you will also have back-up mounts that you will also choose on the days you use 'em. They are for when your regular horse needs rest. This also covers you if your regular horse gets sick or lame; there will always be at least two others to fall back on. Most big ranches have five horses per cowboy. We find here that three do nicely most of the time. This isn't a huge ranch, but it ain't small neither.
"Louis and myself are the ones you'll take orders from. Niall and Nick haven't been here but a couple of years now. Both are reliable and you can count on 'em to have your back. Louis only hires the best—that's why it's so important that you don't let him down. Or me. Remember, I went out on a limb to get you hired."
"I know, and I won't forget that, Johnny. I'll do you and Louis proud."
"Take advantage of learnin' everythin' you can," Johnny added. "I have more patience, but Louis is a damn good teacher himself, if a little blunt." He chuckled softly. "He'll let you know in no uncertain terms if ya screw up."
Harry didn't doubt that for a minute. "And don't let Louis intimidate you. He puts up a hard exterior, but he takes care of his employees. He doesn't ask his men to do anythin' he won't do himself. He works jus' as hard as the rest of us. Any questions?" Johnny finished.
"None I can think of."
"Well then, you'd better get over there and let them help you choose a horse to ride."
Leaning against the corral fence, hip cocked, Louis looked deceptively indolent. Beside him, Joaquin stood patiently, although longingly casting glances out at the other horses and their riders, Nick and Niall, already riding the fence. The horse was eager to get to work.
"What horse do you fancy?" Louis asked. He was so straightforward, not seeming to want to bother with any type of small talk or formalities. His grey Stetson sat low on his forehead, shading those captivating blue eyes of his. Harry thought he saw them glitter. With mirth, or what? Harry wasn't sure.
"Which do you recommend?" Harry asked him, expecting a smart ass answer, and getting just that.
"You said you could ride. So you shouldn't have trouble with any of 'em."
A lot of help that was. After looking the herd over for a moment, he chose a pretty sorrel gelding with a wide blaze. The animal had an intelligent, inquisitive eye—usually a good sign. A "kind" eye, as they called it.
Louis roped him and brought him to the hitching post without a word. Harry buckled on the halter and lead rope Louis handed to him. Then he watched on as Harry grabbed a brush from the tack box and began to groom the horse. He felt uneasy—as if the man was grading him on every move he made. After grooming the horse and picking out his hooves, he asked Louis where his tack was. The rancher pointed through the tack room door at a saddle and pad sitting atop a sawhorse.
"That one'll probably fit you and the horse best."
Harry had the feeling Louis had already thought everything through. As he lifted the saddle, he noted how much heavier it was than an English saddle—at least twenty pounds heavier—maybe twenty-five. He also noticed a minimum of twenty other saddles on sawhorses in neat rows in the tack room.
Everything was clean and well oiled. Several dozen bridles were hung on pegs on the wall, as were halters, lead ropes, and extra reins and bits. Everything was neatly arranged, and he suspected nothing was ever put in the wrong place without a price to pay.
He saddled the sorrel horse, noting the saddle fit him like a glove, then took the bridle Louis had selected and offered to him. Harry tried to ignore his tantalizingly manly scent as he leaned over Harry's shoulder to slip the bridle into his hand. He smelled earthy and faintly of soap and tobacco. This caused a coil of desire to spring loose in Harry's abdomen with no warning.
Concentrate! He admonished himself.
When the horse was outfitted, Harry waited until Louis mounted, then followed suit. As soon as Harry settled into the saddle, he felt the tightly coiled energy underneath him. This was a lot of horse. Souped up and ready to go. He gathered up the reins, and almost before he knew what was happening, the horse suddenly went into reverse. And he wasn't walking, he was running backward. And faster than Harry had ever dreamed was possible for a horse to back up.
Harry gasped, not knowing what to do. He'd never had a horse do anything like this before, and he searched his mind desperately for the remedy. What had he done wrong?
"Stay outta his mouth!" Louis' authoritative voice reached him. Instantly Harry released the reins, and the gelding stopped backing.
"I can tell you've been ridin' English," Louis snipped in a mocking tone of voice. "These horses are quick, and they're trained to react fast. They're fine-tuned. Pressure on the reins means to back, now. And they don't need anyone to hold their heads up."
Flustered more than he was showing outwardly, Harry took this to mean he needed to use a much more relaxed rein. This was Western riding, and he'd have to get used to it. He hadn't ridden Western for quite a while. The English style of riding required a bracing rein to keep the horse collected. Contact was kept on the mouth almost all of the time. It had been an automatic move on his part, and a habit he'd have to break.
He also needed to remember to ride one-handed. What a bad way to start off! But he had no more time to ponder it because Louis cantered off, signaling Harry to follow.
At first, Harry was delighted to have such a quick, responsive mount. But when Louis slowed to a trot as they neared the other hands, Harry's horse didn't want to slow down. He began to prance and toss his head, then to snort and bounce around. Harry didn't want to pull on the reins too much for fear he'd begin to back up again at a hundred miles an hour. He didn't know what to do to get the animal back under control.
Harry tried circling the gelding, and it worked, but only for as long as they continued to circle. He couldn't circle the animal for the rest of the day. Bit by bit, the horse became more unmanageable until Harry felt as if a bomb was ready to go off beneath him. Or maybe like a frog was gathering itself to leap, leaving Harry abruptly in the dirt. He really didn't like this feeling.
Harry was sure Louis saw the difficulty he was having. He couldn't help but notice, but he offered no help or advice. Harry felt this must be a test of sorts. Louis wanted to see how well he would handle the situation.
Between leaps and bounds, Harry asked Louis, "What's his name?"
"Latigo," was Louis' bored sounding reply.
"Latigo, calm down now! Be a good boy!" Harry knew that talking to a horse sometimes helped to soothe them. But this guy wasn't nervous, he was just plain feeling too good. Feeling his oats, as the old saying went.
Finally, after ten minutes of this, Louis looked over and remarked, "These ranch horses aren't like lesson arena horses. They're well broke, but they have a lotta fire. They have to, to perform what we sometimes ask of them. They're hot—not beginner horses."
Harry wondered if the word "beginner" wasn't directed at him. Louis was so hard to read. But Harry had his hands so full of trying to manage his mount that he wasn't able to get a good look at the rancher's face to try to guess his state of mind.
Now Harry fully understood why his riding instructor had wanted him to ride a more spirited horse. It was all coming together. Harry was learning humility very quickly. He'd thought he could ride—this horse was trying to prove him wrong. He felt so inadequate, and even a little frightened of this lively horse's antics. He was afraid that at any moment it might decide to bolt, or buck him off.
If that happened, Harry was going to be laughed at, ragged on, and probably be fired straight away. All he wanted was to have his feet safely on the ground again, but if he let the alarm and fear show on his face, the other hands would probably have a field day with it.
Even so, that didn't matter a fraction as much as the one person who's opinion did matter—Louis Tomlinson. Holding onto his job was most important, but Harry realized also that he wanted to prove to Louis that he was competent.
Catching up to the other hired hands, Johnny had a big, sunny smile for Harry.
"Ya chose a good horse," he said. "He's one of my favorites."
"I don't know what I'm doin' wrong," said Harry quietly, looking around to be sure Louis wasn't within ear shot, "but he won't settle down." Harry hoped fervently that Johnny could give him some pointers.
"Don't worry 'bout that. After a couple hours, they calm down a little."
A couple hours?
How in the hell was he going to control this horse for that long? When he had a second, Harry looked around and saw that both Nick and Niall's horses were doing much the same thing his was—horsie gymnastics. The cowboys didn't pay it much mind at all, just riding it out. None of them looked fazed in the least. Even Johnny and Louis' horses were fresh, although not quite as lively as the others.
Nick's horse reared a couple of times, but Nick just made use of his spurs, encouraging the animal to go forward so his front feet would come back to the ground. When Niall's horse bucked, Niall merely pulled him into a few tight circles until he got dizzy enough to behave himself.
So Harry guessed he had been doing things the correct way after all. Perhaps that was why Louis had not yelled at him or offered to help him. Maybe there was hope for him yet.
Latigo did calm down, and it was none too soon for Harry. By then, Harry was nearly exhausted from fighting him. He was trying to watch the other men repair fences so he could learn himself, but it was nearly impossible to do so while trying to hold Latigo still.
When he dismounted, it was a struggle to get back into the saddle. Latigo would dance sideways or try to run as he threw his leg over. So Harry found it was easier to remain mounted. Louis had told him not to help much for the first few days anyway for the purpose of him learning by watching.
Latigo was now trying to stir up trouble. He would try to slyly ease his way over to Johnny's horse. That, of course, would annoy the temperamental Cactus, who would then flatten his ears and try to bite or kick Latigo. By lunchtime, Harry's legs and seat felt like jelly—the parts that weren't numb, that was, and his arms ached so from hauling on the reins that they were also nearly numb.
As they ate thick roast beef sandwiches and potato salad on the bench in the shade outside of the bunkhouse, Harry had to use the bathroom so badly that he thought he might burst while riding what had felt like a very rough pogo stick. The constant jumping and jolting had made his situation even worse. The others snickered as Harry nearly sprinted into the bunkhouse as soon as he dismounted to relieve his bladder.
Louis kept looking at him in a wily way, as if he didn't want Harry to see where he was looking. Harry didn't know quite what to think of that. He found himself wondering what the others thought of him. He knew Johnny liked him at least a little bit, and Louis, for the most part, resented him. Nick and Niall didn't give anything away. Harry was glad, anyway, that they weren't loud and obnoxious bullies, which was kind of what Harry had expected when he'd started working here. It was the new guy that always got picked on. Regardless, Louis was obnoxious enough in his own way to keep Harry feeling uncomfortable.
Back in the saddle again, Harry was so tired he could hardly see straight, and the worst part was he hadn't done any work—just observed the others. He wondered how much more wrung out he would be when the weather got unbearably hot in summer.
But maybe by then, he wouldn't have such a hard time just succeeding at riding these quirky ranch horses and would be able to concentrate more on what he was doing. Getting in shape would be absolutely mandatory. He'd have to be in shape if he were to prove himself capable of being a ranch hand.
They quit at three, and Harry wondered why. He didn't dare hope Louis had called it an early day just for his sake. He couldn't see the rancher cutting him any slack, or offering him any special treatment.
By this time, Latigo was quietly responsive, and Harry had learned he only needed the most subtle of cues. Harry was developing a respect for ranch horses. They knew their jobs, and although they were capable of testing you, they just needed to understand you were in charge.
Harry couldn't imagine riding until dark. As it was, his knees, ankles, back and just about everything else was so stiff that when he dismounted for the last time, he almost couldn't walk.
At dinner, they sat down to a delicious stew, homemade bread and salad. Dessert was blueberry cobbler. Being this good, it was no wonder the cook been employed here for so long. Johnny had mentioned Cookie and Nora, the housekeeper had been here many years before Louis' father died and passed the ranch on to him.
On the Rocking Horse Ranch, Harry felt as if he'd gone back a hundred years in time. And he liked that feeling. It was exactly what he'd been looking for when he'd come to Texas. Everything he'd dreamed of, he now had. Wide open spaces, good horses, good job security. Or so he hoped. He still needed to prove himself so he'd get hired on permanently.
He had to wait his turn for a hot shower, but hey, he was the new guy. And as tired and sore as he was, Harry climbed into his bunk that night a very happy young man.