Bad in Boots (Crossroads Book 1) by Em Petrova

Author:Em Petrova [Petrova, Em]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-08-23T23:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

“Cort, where do you want this?” one of the new hired hands asked him.

He pivoted to look at the bag of feed the guy was unloading from the ranch truck—the feed he failed to get the other day.

“We stack the bags on a pallet in the corner of the barn where it’s dry. C’mon, I’ll show you.” He took off walking with the guy behind. Of course the new hand’s first day on the job also happened to fall on the day his father arrived home from the hospital. Being responsible for the ranch, directing the new hand and checking in on his father had Cort run ragged, and it wasn’t even lunchtime.

He didn’t take two steps inside the barn before someone else called his name. “Just a minute,” he returned.

He pointed to the corner and the empty pallet. “It’s kind of a pain to carry all the bags in here, but it’s the way we’ve done it forever. It’s the driest place, and the cats keep the mice outta here.”

“You got it, boss.” The new kid gave him an eager nod. At least he was gung-ho to work, and Cort wouldn’t be cracking the whip. What he was learning was that he wasn’t a foreman. But he didn’t have time to dwell on how unprepared he was to lead workers—he had shit to get done.

“I’ll leave ya to it. When you’re finished, pull the truck up in front of the garage,” Cort said.

“Will do.”

Cort left him to it and went outside in search of whoever had called his name. He saw Sherman there. He’d dumped his crutches, complaining a cowboy couldn’t be a cowboy on them, and he now limped around on his walking boot. Cort thought he couldn’t give up control of the ranch he’d worked with Cort’s father for the past twenty years.

“What is it?” Cort asked.

“The Davises will be here after lunch to look at the studs and see if they want to breed their mare with one.”

“All right.” He went on guard, thinking about whether he’d get the correct horses this time. “Do you know which ones my father had in mind to show them?”

He scratched at his head, just beneath his Stetson. “That’s what I was about to ask you.”

“All right. I’ll find out. Thanks.” He started toward the house when his cell rang. He drew it to his ear with a grin at the name on the caller ID. “Kaoz, my man. What’s up, Cuz?”

His cousin’s Southern drawl rang into his ear. “Callin’ to see how things are going. I heard Uncle Cort busted himself up good.”

“Yeah, he did. He’s waiting on things to calm down in his hand before they do surgery on those ligaments.”

“Bet he’s as surly as a bear.”

“You got it. Now multiply that by ten,” Cort said.

He pictured Kaoz. So similar in height and size that they were sometimes mistaken for brothers, especially in their younger years. Only his own coloring took after his dad’s, and Kaoz took after his mother, with almost black eyes and hair.

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