Chapter Four
Over the nextweek I had more than enough work to keep me well occupied.
Between wrapping up the calf tagging, daily chores such as graining and haying the cattle, and riding fence in preparation of turning the herd out, I fell into bed exhausted every night. I didn’t tend to dream much, so my rest was a short black stretch that ended at four-thirty every day. Bishop Haney and his bun were being well taken care of by Perry, our shy cow hand. During the day, all I heard about was dinosaur bones, how cool Bishop was, and how exciting it was to be helping make casts and log finds. Kyle and the others took it in stride, but I was slowly becoming more and more inclined to blot it out.
Not that I begrudged Perry his fossil fun. I was glad he had found something and someone to share his time with. He tended to stick close to the ranch, keeping to himself in the evenings with a book or writing in his journals when the other men would go to Copper Falls to drink and dance with the ladies. Nope, Perry’s friendship with Bishop was amazing. Fantastic even. They were well suited being of the same general age and sharing a love of bones. I was happy for them. Wished them well. Hoped they made a lasting friendship.
God knows everyone needed someone. Perry was too young to spend his nights alone. Staring out the front window at the mountains shrouded in fog, I had to ponder on if there was an age where it was good to be alone. I’d been by myself now for over twenty years and not a one of those years had felt like the proper time to be a solitary being. The past seven days my lonely existence had sat heavily on my shoulders. The jealousy that I was feeling when I watched Perry run off after his chores were completed to join Bishop were unreasonable. And I was not, by nature, an unreasonable man. I kept my cards close to my vest and my emotions so deeply buried Bishop wouldn’t be able to dig them up. I’d loved once, been happy once, and then had lost it all in the blink of an eye.
Bane appeared as he did, meowing as he slunk around my ankles. I placed my mug to the counter then scooped up the cat. He rubbed his face on my chin.
“You like the beard, huh?” I asked and got a rough tongue on the tip of my nose in reply. “Thanks.” I turned and placed him on the counter. When he’d first moved in I’d had a rule about cats on the counters and island when I was eating. Now he went everywhere. Hell, I even placed him on the off-limits places. “Tuna or salmon?” He meowed, crooked tail sliding under my nose, and paraded back and forth. I reached into the cupboard, found a can of tuna cat food, and as I popped the top headlights cut through the night. Dumping the ground fish into his dish by the bubbling fountain cat waterer, I placed the can into the sink and slowly made my way to the front door.
I was not prepared to see a van parked by my door with college-aged kids pouring out. This must be the ragtag caravan of undergrad paleontology students Perry had been jabbering about. There were four. Three guys and a girl. All far too pert for this time of the day. Did fossil diggers never sleep? When I had been in college all I did was sleep. Well, sleep, drink, and fuck. My how my life had changed. Now all I did was work, work, and rub heating cream on my lower back when I overdid. Sex was a warm but distant memory.
Bane ran out to greet the newcomers as I leaned on the doorjamb waiting for one of them to work up the courage to approach me. It was the young miss with the red curls who came forward. A light rain began to fall.
“Hi! You must be Foreman Nate. I’m Paula and these three nerds are Will, Craig, and Veer.” The guys—or dudes as Bishop would undoubtedly call them—all raised a hand in greeting. “We stopped at the big house, but the place was dark and no one answered the door.” Which made sense. Mona had gone to California to be with her son and his family while Landon was in Europe. She padded up the two steps, extending her hand as she came. “We’re looking for Professor Haney.”
“Welcome to the Prairie Smoke Ranch. I am Nate yes. Why don’t you all come in out of the rain? I’ll call the professor and let him know you’re here.”
“Thanks,” Paula said, and they filed in, chattering amongst themselves.
“Have a seat. I’ll make more coffee.” I left them to talk and went back into the kitchen. Bane had emptied his bowl, so I placed that in the dishwasher and picked up my phone. It was barely five-thirty yet, but I rang the landline of guest cabin five. The wind picked up, and rain began to lash the house. Thunder rolled down the sides of the Tetons, rattling the windows. One never knew from day to day what kind of weather Wyoming would bless one with. I’ve woken up to two feet of snow in May, and I have also awoken to tornado warnings. The Cowboy State kept a man on his toes. The call never connected. I tried four more times, but the line seemed to be dead. Nothing new there. Tree limbs snapped and fell on the old lines all the time.
I’d make coffee and jump in the truck to fetch their teacher. He only had an old four-wheeler that Kyle had loaned him to get to the dig site and back at night, and that wasn’t going to cut it during a gully washer like we were having. Once the kids were settled with coffee and their phones, which seemed to be having their own issues connectivity wise, and Bane too, I pulled on my old raincoat from the coat rack by the door, slipped my feet into my boots, and told them to hang tight while I went to gather up Haney.
I ran to my truck, feet splashing in muddy puddles, a low rumble of thunder building overhead. It hit its crescendo as a jagged bolt of lightning speared the earth. The strike was far off but lit up the murky dawn sky. Windshield wipers slapping, I eased away from my place and made for one of several dirt lanes leading from the main drive.
“Early Morning Rain” was playing on the stereo. I smiled at Gordon singing about sand in his pockets as I crept along, rain dripping off my nose. I wiped away the droplet, cranked up the heater to clear the steamy window, and trundled along until Smoke Lake appeared. There was a low cloud hanging over the water, warm air meeting cold water, giving the area a creepy aura that the thunder and lightning magnified. All the cabins were dark aside from number five. I pulled as close to the front porch of five as I could. It was good to see that the power was still on even if the phone lines were down.
I killed the engine as rain pounded down on the hood and roof, the sound nearly deafening. Whipping up the hood of my raincoat, I threw myself out of the truck, slamming the door before making a dash for the tiny little stoop. I shook like a dog when I was under the short roof, the wind blowing the rain into my face as I pounded on the door. No one answered. I leaned in, placing my ear to the door, and could hear some sort of rock music blaring away inside.
A gust hit me in the cheek, small pebbles of what must be hail stinging my face. I tried the doorknob. It turned with ease and I slid inside, dripping wet, and shouted his name.
Bishop appeared a second later, soaking wet, with a green towel hanging off his lean hips. My mouth dropped a bit as my eyes touched every bit of exposed slick skin. He had a nice frame, rangy yes but not skinny, yet not too defined either. A light spattering of gold hair covered his chest and belly. His nipples were pinkish-brown. There was a small tattoo on his left pectoral that I couldn’t make out.
“Hey! It’s the sexy surly foreman,” he called, making my sight leave the tempting sight of his pelvic lines. A filthy little scenario flared to life with me filling those cum gutters with spunk as I rode him like a wild mustang. “Let me turn this down. You ever listen to any Gulch?” he shouted as he rushed to the portable speakers his phone was plugged into.
“I know an Elvira Gulch,” my mouth spit out as I ogled his wet back. Wide shoulders, trim waist, smooth skin. Water ran down his spine from his sodden hair. The air smelled of coconut. I licked my lips, shoved at my hardening cock, and pulled my raincoat shut before he turned around. It would not look good for the foreman of the Prairie Smoke to be talking to a guest with a raging hard-on but shit he was delicious.
“Right. The old lady on the bike in The Wizard of Oz,” he replied just as the room went silent. “Shit, that is some nasty storm.” He laid his phone on the mantle then turned to face me. “Are you doing a safety check on all the guests?”
No, I’m here to tell you that your students are at my place. Also, I want to jackoff all over your stomach and watch it run down to your balls.
“Something like that.” I forced myself to look at his face—and only his face. “Your students are at my place so if you can get dressed, I’ll take you to them.”
He lit up. “Excellent! Give me five. There’s a kettle of hot water in the kitchenette and a box of rooibos vanilla chai tea. No sugar, sorry, but I do have honey for the tea. It’s a great blend that really dances on your palate,” he said then walked off but never stopped talking. Like a damn dunce, I watched him disappear around the corner of the single bedroom/bath combo. “I found it when I was in college. It’s caffeine-free so that’s a plus when you have a mind like mine that won’t turn off a night unless I’m exhausted or recently screwed into a coma.”
He laughed. My cock pulsed. I glanced around the compact log cabin for something to remark on other than his cum gutters or the dip above the swell of his ass cheeks.
“I’m more a coffee man,” I decided to go with. He appeared a moment later, in frayed jeans, his chosen shirt of the day on his shoulder, fingers combing through his hair.
“I can see that. You’re like this combination of the Marlboro man and Sam Elliott in Roadhouse minus the long hair.”
“I’m flattered.”
He gave me a wink that did nothing for the problem I was having with my dick. It felt like I was fifteen again, with my cock leading the show. I wasn’t able to process the reaction to Bishop. I’d not been this wildly attracted to a man since Devon. It was disconcerting to say the least.