Montana Nights

Chapter 2 : Good Morning Carrington Ranch

Lucas

Alarm bells rang in my head as soon as I saw Hunter and James, two of the Carrington Ranch's hands, running full-speed from the barn, waving their arms. Setting my coffee on a side table I sprinted from the Big House's wrap-around covered porch to meet them.

As soon as we got within shouting distance of each other, Hunter and James slowed, lungs bellowing from the exertion. Taking deep draws of air, the two young brothers spoke over each other in their haste.

“Lucas, it's 1604…"

“She got into some spear grass somewhere…"

“I don't know where she could've gotten it…"

I held up my hands to silence them and walked to the barn with purpose.

“James, you go check her hay. Make sure it's clean before we feed any more of it. Hunter, you come with me. Where is she now?"

James ran to the large, round bale of hay in the south lot without another word while Hunter fell into step beside me.

“Well, she's still in the corral. I mean, it's 1604… No one was willing to move her much. She's ornery to begin with, but with that abscess on her face…"

“Yeah, she ought to be intent on bloody murder, I expect."

I reached the corral's sturdy, rolled-pipe fencing and walked around the perimeter until I could get a good look at the cow in question.

Let's hope it ain't too bad.

As I slowed, though, and 1604 came into sight, I knew it was. Stepping into her baleful glare, she pawed the ground with a front leg and tossed her red and white, curly-haired head. An abscess, the size of a small dinner plate had swollen her left jaw up near the joint.

“God damnit! Where'd you get that, anyway?"

To express her appreciation for my words, and the grimace on my face, she charged the fence where I stood. I stepped back, and she turned at the last moment, kicking the fence as she trotted around to get me back in her sights.

I took off my white, felt Stetson and ran my arm over my brow. The fall weather had been mild, so far, yet still cold enough to justify bringing out my winter hat and wearing a vest over my long-sleeved button down. Kicking the ground with my work boots, a pair of brown leather Luccheses Dad had gifted me for my twenty-sixth birthday this year, trying to think of what to do.

“What should we do, Boss?"

“Dad's the boss, Hunter. Hook up the little trailer and pull it around. Gonna have to load her up and get her to a vet. Too expensive to get one to come out here just for this. Just get her loaded while I talk to Dad."

James groaned as he walked to the big truck, cussing under his breath. I turned back to the house, cussing under my breath, too. James ran up, meeting me halfway and falling into step beside me.

“Looks like that new batch of hay we got in ain't no good, Lucas. There's trash grass all up in it."

“Who the hell accepted it? What have I said a million times, Hunter? Check the damn hay!"

Hunter removed his hat and hung his head.

“I know, Lucas. That's not on me. I wasn't even here that day. I think Ed was the one who done checked it…"

“We fired Ed last month, Hunter. And you check the hay every time you feed it, not just when it's delivered. Gather up some hands and go figure out which bales are good and which aren't. We've got five-thousand head of Hereford gonna calve in the next few months. Five-thousand head of dead cattle won't do none of us no good."

“Yes, Sir."

Hunter spun on his heel and ran for the bunkhouse to gather up enough hands to manage the job while I steeled myself to bring the latest disaster to Dad.

Picking up my coffee from the side table on the porch, I headed into the Big House. My boots rang off the hardwood floors while I sipped my coffee. I felt the caffeine wake my mind while trepidation crept into my gut.

I stopped outside of Dad's office door and knocked.

“Dad? Dad, you there? We gotta talk."

Dad's gruff voice replied from the other side of the door.

“Come in, already."

Twenty-six years of memories of Bret Carrington's disapproving tone shivered down my spine. A hard, uncompromising man, Dad had been raised in an age which seemed to have only rewarded cruelty.

Is that really what it is to be a man? Is his level of cold misery really my only choice?

“1604's got speargrass in her jaw. The boys are loading her now, but I'm going to have to take her to a Vet."

“Take her to Doc Werner."

“Well, Dad, Doc Werner's not in town."

Dad looked up from his Cattleman's magazine and pinned me with his infamously sharp glare.

“Then call his ass and get him to the clinic. Tell him it's a Carrington Ranch cow. He'll come running if he knows what's good for him."

“Well, I don't think 1604 has time for him to fly back from Cancun, Mexico, Dad. She got an abscess the size of a plate, already."

“What the hell does he think he's doing in Mexico? He has responsibilities here."

I shrugged, attempting to remain neutral, to weather my father's stormy temper.

“Well, he married that pretty young wife of his and she really enjoys the beach, looks like."

“Damn women." Dad's snarl died as his eyes drifted back to his magazine. I drew in a slow, deep breath, preparing my suggestion.

“What about-"

“Try that new Vet."

Shock rang clear in my response. “Dr. Wilma?"

“Yeah, that woman, Vet. Let her fight that b***h of a cow. I'm getting too old to do it all for everybody and the damn government has made it too hard to keep your own antibiotics on hand."

I nodded, sipping my coffee to cover my surprise.

“I suppose that's a good idea. Dr. Wilma's clinic's been open for nearly ten years now. I guess it could be time to give her a chance…"

Please let my sarcasm go right over Dad's head.

“Well, what else we gonna do, with Doc Werner running off with that tramp he married?"

I barely suppressed the cringe pulling at my shoulders, instead I focused on something from which I thought Dad could draw hope. The last thing I wanted was to hear Dad complain about Dr. Wilma all week.

“Besides, Ethan works with Dr. Wilma now. Seems like we need a new Vet, anyway, what with Doc Werner running off with his new wife all the time. Ethan'll take care of us. Hell, he's staying in the guest house already."

Dad grunted and nodded with his classic finality.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about Ethan…"

Dad's gaze drifted away to who knew where. A small anxiety which had been gnawing at my gut flared.

Dad's been drifting a lot lately.

“He better take care of us, or he can find another house to squat in."

Riiiight. Classic Bret Carrington, right there.

“Welp, lemme go wake Chase. I'm going to need all the help I can get just to get that cow out of the trailer at the Vet's."

Dad grunted. His eyes returned to his magazine as I closed the door behind me with a sigh. The tv tells me that some dads play catch with their kids. I just got the worst of mine. Move on, Lucas. No point in whining.

Striding to my little brother's room, I found him still passed out in his bed. It was clear he had been out all night as he usually was. In frustration, I kicked the metal bed frame hard enough to move the bed over by an inch. Chase didn't move, which only pissed me off more. So leaning forward, I yelled in his ear, instead.

“Get your ass up, Chase! 1604's got a spear grass abscess, and we gotta take her to town."

Chase groaned as his limbs moved.

“f**k you, Lucas. You do it."

“We're both doing it or you don't get paid this month."

Frustration crept into my tone as it boiled over inside of me.

“Awww. Why you gotta be such an asshole?" He replied as he rolled over refusing to do as I asked. This was typical of

Shrugging, I put my coffee on the side table and grabbed Chase's bed frame on the long side.

“It's genetic, Chase. Just like you."

I squatted and lifted. The legs of the bedframe squealed and I flipped the bed up, on its side. Chase tumbled out, onto the floor, followed by his mattress.

“You fucker! I'm gonna kick your ass, Lucas!"

Picking up my coffee, I walked out the door, leaving my reply behind.

“You got fifteen minutes to get to the truck or no pay."

“I'm telling Dad!"

I don't give a s**t if you do. Dad, never let me be half as lazy as you. I'd kick your ass, but I doubt it would make any difference.

Turning down the hallway, more than annoyed, I called out to him from over my shoulder. “Go right ahead and explain that you just didn't want to get up. He insists even you gotta work, too."

Fifteen minutes later, Chase loaded up into the truck. 1604 kicked the inside of the trailer while Hunter wrapped gauze around James' arm.

“What happened?"

Hunter glanced over at me through the driver's side window.

“1604 kicked him good and made him bleed."

“Damn. Be more careful, James."

I slowly pulled the rig down the long drive. Chase rubbed the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“I have a damn hangover. Couldn't you just let me sleep?"

“Sorry, little bro. Everybody's gotta work and Hunter and James already did the hard part. They got her in the trailer."

1604 kicked the trailer again, as if she knew we spoke of her. The entire truck and trailer wobbled on its tires. Keeping my cool, I maintained a crawling pace, not wishing to risk any of her kicks at high speed.

“Can we stop at Fry Bread's? I could use a couple of tacos."

I shook my head, eyes roving from truck mirrors to the road ahead.

“Sorry, Bro. No time to stop. Shoulda got up for breakfast."

“But I was out late! Can't expect a man to get up at the crack of dawn with a hangover."

“Maybe don't drink so late, Chase. I mean, I'd love to party every day, but someone has to work around here."

Chase replied with a snort and I let it go.

I already had enough dealing with family today.

I turned on the music and drove the rest of the way, listening to country and watching the mountains flow by in the distance until I turned into Dr. Wilma's entrance. I went ahead and pulled around to the unloading area in the back of the building. I parked and slapped Chase's shoulder 'til he woke.

“Get yourself together and get 1604 unloaded, will ya? I'm headed inside."

Without waiting for a response, I walked into the clinic through the side entrance, only to be met with a death stare from Harper, the receptionist.

“You don't have an appointment, Lucas Carrington."

“Well, Harper, I hadn't planned to have a cow with a speargrass abscess, either."

One of her eyebrows slowly crawled up her forehead toward her bright blue hair. “I thought you had another Vet."

“Well, he seems more interested in the Mexican beaches his wife enjoys so much."

Harper laughed, though she seemed to resent the fact, and relented.

“Fine, unload her and we'll fit you in where we can."

“Chase is already unloading her." I replied as I let my eyes wander the clinic. It looked like a decent set-up to me, well designed and the building seemed modern enough. Patients and staff zoomed too and fro, busy with their duties.

Then a woman I had never seen before walked by, stealing my gaze in an instant. Long, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing practical jeans and a scrubs top, the rest of the world seemed to fade around her.

I must have forgotten to breathe. At least, I couldn't remember breathing. She carried the biggest, yellow cat I had ever seen from an exam room to the back kennels, disappearing from sight.

“Damn, she's got a nice rack." The crude comment pulled me back to the present. My head snapped over to Chase's disgusting grin.

“Shut the f**k up, Chase. We don't talk bad about the Vet's people. Angry Veterinarians don't treat our sick cows…"

“It was a compliment, Lucas."

“It was sexist and that's the end of it, hear me?"

“For f**k's same, alright, Dad."

I narrowed my gaze at my brother.

“No, Chase, listen to me for f**k's sake. Don't talk about women that way. Not here, not ever, not around me."

“Fine."

Chase shrugged off my words, but he shut his mouth and walked back out to the pens where 1604 waited, full of pain-induced fury.

I shook my head as I regarded him.

Man, little bro, when are you going to grow up? I can't watch out for you forever, and Dad's…

I couldn't bear to finish the thought. Winter was coming, and not just for Montana. It very well may have been coming for Bret Carrington, too.