Page 24 of Cattle Stop

Of course I’m going to help, Cooper wants to snap. He swallows the words. “Anything for Drew.”

Including rooming with you, he thinks and when he looks back at Whit, he’s entirely sure the same thought is written on Whit’s face, too.

II

May

Chapter Five

“I dug a hole,” Cooper says. “That’s what I did today.”

“I bet it’s the world’s best hole,” Terry says. “Linda! Cooper dug a hole! Coop, send us a picture, I want to show your mom.”

“Just imagine the ground, right? And then picture that some of it’s missing, ta-da.” He lifts his hat, wipes the back of his wrist against his sweaty forehead, and sets the hat back on his head. He imagines actually snapping a picture and sending it, his mom eagerly crowding over the phone to ooh and ahh. Then, he pushes that idea away. Of course she wouldn’t look, not over the allure of all the damn emails in her inbox. “Um, what else? I fought a spigot and lost.”

“Like the ongoing squirrel battle?”

“Please, squirrel war. We’re losing battles and may still be under siege, but we’re not giving up yet.”

“That’s the spirit, kiddo. The type of stuff every parent dreams of their progeny achieving. I’m going to brag about you tonight at cook group, but of course, I do that every night.”

“Thought tonight was book club.”

“Please, that’s next week. Keep up with our busy and thrilling schedules.”

“Is Mom going?”

Terry sighs into the phone. “She’s got to work.”

“Yeah.” Cooper tips his hat back, rubbing at the sweat stinging his eyes. “Course. Well, I’m on my way out to the bar as soon as I finish this, since we already lured Drew there with the promise of fries, so sorry if I actually know how to have fun.”

“Live life on the edge, Mr. Coop. Love you, kid.”

“Love you too, and so does Sadie.” Tell Mom I say hi, he nearly adds, though he could tell her himself if she ever bothered coming to the phone. “Catch you later.”

“Bye, gator.”

From her spot in the shade of an oak tree, Sadie’s tail thumps at the sound of her name. She stretches, her toes flexing before she relaxes again, her eyes drooping shut.

“That’s a good fucking hole,” he tells her. Not that there’s anyone around to agree with him. Or argue. It’s longer than he is tall, nearly half again as wide, and deep enough that if he jumped into it, he’d have to climb back out. This hole’s better than the first one he did that morning, and probably better than the second one, too. He rolls his shoulders forward, stretching out his back. A twinge of pain’s settled there from so many hours in the tractor, and it aches as he wipes at his face again.

The gates he took down are an awkward fit in the tractor bucket for the drive back to the barn, the metal bent from wayward cows and a winter sitting out in the snow. It doesn’t help that the ground has yet to firm up from the spring’s melt, no matter how the sun shines down. All that warmth does is leave a humid stick to the air as puddles begin to dry. Cooper picks at the sleeve of his T-shirt where it clings to his arms, one hand on the steering wheel of the tractor, and Sadie sauntering along beside him.

By the time he makes it to the barnyard, the sky’s lit up with sunset, glowing over the maple tree’s new leaves. Cooper tugs off his hat and rifles his fingers through his sweaty hair, lifting it where the ends curl against the back of his neck and behind his ears. There’s nobody around to even admire the gates he dumps behind the barn. The farm’s deserted except for the cows, their jaws working over their cud and the rooster strolling past with his head bobbing. Whit’s truck is gone, and the spaces where Penny’s motorcycle and Drew’s Jeep should be are empty too.

Well, Penny’s at work, and for once, evening has come without the whine of the saw or hammering as Drew stomps around the attic. And with Whit gone, Cooper could enjoy some blessed alone-time upstairs, take a shower without the certainty Whit’s probably timing his use of the hot water, and sprawl on his bed like he has a room to himself.

And it’d work, as long as he doesn’t look across to the other bed and see Whit’s dresser, Whit’s books, Whit’s neatly hung shirts in the closet, Whit’s towel on its hook, like even in his absence, Whit’s determinedly reminding Cooper of whose space is whose.

So tempting. He could oh-so-casually leave a stray sock on Whit’s side of the narrow aisle between their beds too, just for the fun of the pinch in Whit’s forehead when he discovers it later. But Cooper hauls himself up into his truck, whistling tunelessly and draping an arm out the window as he shifts into gear.

When he pulls into the parking lot of Murry’s, Drew’s Jeep is there, parked next to Penny’s bike. It’s dark inside, compared to the sunshine still clinging to the evening, and Cooper pauses in the door, letting his eyes adjust. Penny’s working behind the bar, leaning on her elbows and chin in her hands as she chats with Drew.

“Beer?” she asks when she spots Cooper.

“Please.” He pulls back the barstool next to Drew and then freezes when he spots who’s on Drew’s other side. “Whit. I thought you were at your parents’.”

“I’m here.”