Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver

Chapter Seven

Whit propshis hands on his hips, his muscles bulging under the thin cotton of his T-shirt. “The cows are going to walk right over it.”

Cooper lifts his hat by the brim and wipes sweat off his forehead. “They are not.”

“Farmers use gates for a reason.”

“Other farmers use cattle stops for a reason.” With the sun pounding down on them, Cooper’s head is starting to ache. Or maybe it’s the storm clouds lingering on the horizon that haven’t moved toward them, breaking the afternoon’s humidity and bringing in some fresh air. Forgetting his water bottle back at the house hasn’t helped, though he’s not quite at the point he’s going to cave and ask Whit for a drink from his.

Hell, he’ll share the cows’ water if it comes to that. They haven’t even touched it yet they’re so excited to be out of the barn and on pasture, running and playing like they’re calves again, kicking their hind legs and jumping through the tall grass.

“Explain again how, exactly, this is going to make such a big difference to the farm?”

“I’m trying to save you time, you genius. You can say thank you, you know, because if you’re not running around, messing with opening and shutting gates whenever you want to hay a field or move the herd, you can fit more work into the day. Or quit early once in a while. Like today, for instance. A beautiful Saturday.” Cooper presses the heel of his hand to his forehead. It pulls at the muscle in his back, still sore and now all the more painful from a day of dragging the cattle stops around. “Can we be done for the afternoon? Please?”

Works hard, Whit had said to Cheryl on the phone yesterday. Maybe Whit’ll call her back and let her know he’s revising his esteemed opinion.

“I’ve got that thing with Brad tonight,” he calls after Whit, who heads toward the truck. But Whit just walks faster and Cooper groans and jogs after him. “Weren’t you being nice to me for like thirty seconds yesterday?”

Whit unlatches the back of the truck and hops up onto the tailgate.

“C’mon, don’t you have some hot date to be getting to tonight?” Cooper asks. “Is putting up fencing really your plan for your Saturday? Or is someone special heading over to spend a romantic evening setting up a cow pasture with you?”

Whit reaches into the bed of the truck and picks up a spool of fencing.

“Lucky guy,” Cooper mutters and follows behind Whit with an armful of fence posts.

By the time they finally finish, Drew must’ve already showered, because the water runs cold before Cooper’s even rinsed his hair. He shuts the water off as quickly as he can, shivering and reaching for his towel.

“The water’s fucking freezing,” he announces as he elbows open the bathroom door, toweling off his face. Then he jumps back a foot and jerks the towel down in front of his crotch. “Jesus. Sorry.”

“No, I’m—” Penny holds up both hands, her eyes snapping up to the ceiling. It looks like she’d had a hand resting on Whit’s knee, where they’re sitting cross-legged on his bed. Quickly, she stands up. “Sorry, Coop.”

“No, no, I’m sorry, shit.” He carefully holds his towel in front of himself and grabs a pair of boxers out of his duffle bag. Well, this is cool. Now at least Penny has some context for more of Whit’s complaints about him, beyond what Whit probably already listed while Cooper shivered in the shower. Leaves clothes everywhere, uses the last of the hot water, and for all Cooper knows, talks in his sleep, too. Whit can top the list off with “walks around naked,” which Whit clearly hates because it makes the corner of his jaw flex each and every time.

Cooper ducks back into the bathroom to pull on his boxers, toweling off his hair and settling it into some semblance of tidiness. Probably, he should shave. He rubs his palm over his rough chin, and then shrugs and lays his towel over his shoulder. It’s just Brad. Plus, he’ll have to then scrub the sink clean or hear it from Whit if he leaves even a speck of hair behind.

“Say something,” Penny says softly as Cooper opens the bathroom door again.

“Say what?” Cooper tosses his towel over the doorknob.

There’s exactly one hook in the bathroom, and he hasn’t bothered to ask Whit if he’d actually share it. They could take turns, maybe. Come up with a schedule where Cooper could use the hook on Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and alternating Sundays. Though if they’re going to do that, they should just paint a line down the middle of the room, too, so Whit’s not toeing at clothes that migrate too close to his bed.

“Nothing. She’s leaving,” Whit says.

“Pen, you working tonight?” Cooper steps into a pair of jeans and hitches them up to his waist.

“Drew’s burning one of the brush piles in the west fields. I’m going to give him a hand. My big Saturday night off.”

“You’re doing it for the s’mores?” Cooper asks.

“Yep, I’m doing it for the s’mores.” She grabs Whit’s elbow and jostles it, giving Whit a hard look. “I’m serious. Dile cómo te sientes¹.”

Cooper pulls on a gray T-shirt. “If you guys are still burning it when I’m back, I’ll come out.”

“We will be, I’m sure.” Penny doesn’t take her hand off Whit, though she does give Cooper a once-over. “You’re wearing that?”

“Yes?” Cooper looks down at himself and plucks at the hem of his shirt where it falls past his stomach.

“Really?”

“I think so?” Cooper holds his arms out and examines his shirt. It’s from his clean pile of clothes, as opposed to his somewhat clean pile, somewhat dirty, and definitely dirty. “Am I not?”

“You’re going out to dinner,” Penny says.

“Yeah, with Brad.”

“Cooper…”

“What? I’m clean, I’m dressed.”

Penny touches two fingers to her forehead. “You know what, I don’t want to get in the middle of this.”

“What’s wrong with my shirt?” Cooper kicks at his duffle, but there’s not anything else in there that isn’t just more of the same. “Do I need a different shirt? Whit, can I borrow a shirt?”

“No.”

“Whit.” Penny lets out a breath. “Whit, go take a shower.”

“The water’s cold,” Cooper says. “What’s wrong with wearing this to eat with Brad?”

“Whit, eres igual de tonto que él²,” Penny says.

Whit heads for the bathroom, pushing past Cooper so quickly that Cooper has to step aside.

“I like this shirt,” Cooper says. It’s plain. And comfortable. And up until now, he’d assumed it was completely practical, acceptable, and unoffensive.

Penny sits on the edge of Whit’s bed again, one leg crossed under herself and her other foot on the floor. “Where’re you two going?”

“Just to get a burger. How is this not a cheeseburger sort of shirt?”

“Cooper.” Penny touches her forehead again. “You’re going to dinner. On a Saturday. With Brad.”

“I know. Wearing clothes, even. And I cleaned the cow shit off myself, too. I swear I’m presentable.”

The shower starts running, and Penny’s eyes dart toward the bathroom door.

“Brad likes you,” she says softly.

“Brad? C’mon, no he doesn’t.”

“Cooper, he asked you out.”

Cooper laughs. He needs socks. And a belt too, or his pants are going to be falling down all night. Wallet, phone, keys, and then he can get going so he can get back to the farm and the bonfire all the sooner. “We’re just grabbing a bite to eat.” He should maybe bring his sunglasses too. He’d wear his hat against the glare of the sun, but even he knows that his ball cap is too gross after days of sweating in it.

“He’s taking you to dinner.”

“No, he’s not. I’m meeting him there.”

“Oh, Coop.” Penny stands and reaches up to set her hands on his shoulders. “You are so good at farming and so very pretty and yet so incredibly clueless.”

“I am not.” He catches the door before she can shut it and pokes his head into the hallway after her. “Brad doesn’t like me.”

“Let me know who pays,” she calls back.

Cooper rolls his eyes and sits on Whit’s bed to pull his socks on. When the bathroom door opens, Cooper asks, “Am I clueless?”

“Where’s Penny?”

“Am I?” Cooper stands quickly. “Sorry. I know, I know, no touching your stuff, let alone your bed. Do I look that bad?”

Whit has his towel around his waist, and maybe the shower wasn’t that cold after all, because his ears are a little red. He glances at Cooper, then turns away, sorting through the top drawer of his dresser.

“You don’t,” he says finally.

“Thank you.” Cooper throws his hands up in the air. “Tell Penny that.”

“I’m not going to.” Whit pulls out a pair of jeans, rather than his sweatpants, and Cooper cranes his head, trying to see the shirt he chooses from the closet.

“You going out tonight? Got a big hot date?”

“Can you stop asking me that?”

“I don’t care.” Cooper holds up both hands. Doesn’t want to care, is more like. Fucking jealous at the thought and annoyed at that reaction even more. No, he tells himself as sternly as he knows how. Too much time around Whit, and this is where it leads: mooning over his body and imagining an alternative reality where Whit’s not an asshole, they’re friends, and then they’re more.

Not going to happen. Really, really not going to fucking happen, so Cooper needs to not linger on the idle delight of what if. Because there’s no if. There’s just Cooper stepping into the hall and Whit shoving the door firmly shut.

Besides, Whit’s probably getting all dressed up just to enjoy a night without Cooper in his room. Making an occasion of it. That’d figure, a private party for one, as Whit celebrates the fact Cooper’s out with Brad, the two people Whit finds most annoying sharing their Saturday night.

The parking lot of the restaurant is already crowded when Cooper pulls in, and by the time he’s circled it twice and finally edged in between the dumpster and a sedan, Brad’s waiting at the front door. His phone’s in his hand and a smile’s on his face. No gum, though, thank God.

“Hey, you.” Brad pulls Cooper in for a hug. Cooper gives him a slap on the back. Total dudebro hug, he’d text Penny if he could, though Brad’s already opening the door for them and ushering Cooper through.

“Table or a seat at the bar?” the host asks them, picking up two menus. The place isn’t packed, but there’s only a few spots left open at the bar, where most everyone’s turned toward the Red Sox pitcher on the TV.

“The bar’s fine.” Cooper looks around again. They’ve redone this place since the last time he was in here, all exposed brick and blond wood. It’s brighter now. Nicer.

“A table,” Brad says and turns toward him. “Yeah, that okay?”

“Oh, sure.” Cooper tucks his hands into his pockets. It pulls at the ache in his shoulder. “Whatever.”

Their table’s in the back, beyond the booths full of couples and a group of women laughing, empty drinks and a demolished plate of nachos in front of them. Cooper slides into his chair, and Brad sits across from him, already smiling again. His new job must be treating him all right, for him to be looking so damn happy all the time. Maybe Brad should try out a Saturday being dragged around by Whit until all hours of the evening, it might bring him down a notch or two.

“So the cheese,” Cooper says as Brad puts his napkin on his lap. “I think this could be great.”

“Oh, yeah, we’ll buy some.” Brad lays his hand on the table, palm down. His nails are clean. Cooper tucks his own hands into his lap. He’s got diesel and engine oil staining his fingers, worn in enough that no matter how he scrubs, it doesn’t ever seem to budge. “How’s the season going?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m thinking that if it works for you, we could commit to a weekly sort of delivery schedule? We’ve got plenty of milk this spring, so Drew’ll be able to churn out more pretty regularly.”

“Sure,” Brad says. “All this sun we’ve been having, you’ve gotten enough rain?”

“Pretty much.” Cooper leans back as the waiter fills their water glasses. “What would you be interested in? Like I said, we’ve got a lot of ricotta right now, and we can sell it pretty cheap.” He should’ve grabbed that clipboard Drew keeps in the cheese room with his schedule on it. Whit would’ve remembered it, though fuck it, Cooper’s going to nail this sales thing.

“That’d be fine. Didn’t realize you’d be sticking around so long this spring. It’s great to have you back.”

“Drinks?” the waiter asks, his pitcher in one hand.

“Um, the pale ale,” Cooper says, nodding toward the bar and the rows of taps. He can barely see the game from here. This place doesn’t have Murry’s excellent selection of beers, nor nearly as many TVs.

“I’ll have the same. You were in Maine all winter, right? How was it?”

“Fine,” Cooper says. Brad seems to be waiting for more, though, eyes expectant, and even when a cheer goes up from the bar at what must’ve been a hell of a hit, his attention doesn’t waver. Cooper clears his throat. “Cold. Snowy. Ate some lobster.”

Brad leans his forearms on the edge of the table. “Drew must be happy to have you back.”

“Well, uh, it’s good to be here.” That sounded awkward. Quickly, he takes a sip of water. It’s not…this is not what he was expecting, Brad leaning across the table like he is. Penny threw him off, and now this just feels weird. Kind of too quiet, back in the corner of the restaurant like this, and all the more so with Brad looking like he’d lean even farther across the table, given the chance.

“You gonna stick around this summer?”

“Just helping out for a bit.”

“Oh, bummer, heading out soon?”

Cooper lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Yeah, I imagine so.”

“Nice, just taking it as it comes.” Brad grins again.

Cooper gives him a weak smile. He should’ve dragged Drew along tonight. Had him here while Cooper set up this sales thing. Hell, he might even take Whit and his hard silences over Brad’s overeager interest, the halting awkwardness, and Brad gazing at him like he’s waiting for something.

Cooper lets out a breath when the waiter comes back with their beers. He leans away from the table so the guy has room to set them down, though Brad doesn’t similarly retreat.

“You two know what you want to eat?” the waiter asks.

“Yeah,” Cooper says and flips open his menu.

“I probably need another minute,” Brad says.

Cooper glances up. The menu’s not that big, it’s not like there’s that much to choose from. And Drew’s probably gotten that burn pile going by now. It’d be nice to be back at the farm in time to enjoy the rest of the evening.

He opens his mouth to say that, then shuts it again. He’s not entirely sure he wants Brad to know they’re all hanging out later. Which is a real asshole thing to do but…no, it’s better that he keeps quiet, rather than have Brad show up and give Drew a look at farm-free life. And besides, Whit’s already in a pissy mood, and as fun as it is to annoy him, Cooper gets plenty of Whit’s special brand of irritation sharing a room with him.

If Whit’s even there. If he’s not out with some guy at a restaurant like this one, a conversation sparking up between him and his handsome date who smiles right back at him. Cooper blinks, that image suddenly too sharp.

“Ever think about getting out of farming?”

“Oh. No.” Cooper shakes his head quickly enough a lock of hair slips forward from behind his ear, and he has to tuck it back again.

“Think you’ll end up owning a place of your own?”

“Seems like a headache of a commitment.” He’s hungry. He wants to eat and then get going, not do whatever the hell this is. Small talk, in a too-quiet corner of a too-nice restaurant.

“Well, maybe Drew’ll end up using you more around the farm. That Whit guy? He found something else, right? Other than being a farmhand? Bartending?”

“Bartending?” Cooper takes a sip of his beer, eyeing the TV over Brad’s shoulder. “I mean, he works with Penny over the winter sometimes, when the farm slows down.”

“Oh, I thought I saw him at Murry’s the other night.” Brad shrugs and takes hold of his own beer, though he doesn’t drink. Brad’s hands look odd, Cooper decides. He’s too used to the stain of dirt worked in around nail beds and the odd scratch and scrape from a long, hard day’s work. Even Whit, who manages to remember his work gloves most of the time, ends up with banged and bruised knuckles.

“Well, he might’ve been keeping Penny company. So, Drew, he’s got some cheddar too. I gave you some of it? Good stuff.”

“No, I think he was working.” Brad shrugs and there’s his grin again. His cheeks must get tired, constantly smiling like that. Cooper takes another sip and glances at the TV. He’s not going to argue. No, that’d be too much like having Whit with him. Though that might be more fun than slogging through what’s apparently an evening of unending questions.

The cheddar, Cooper wants to start again, but Brad leans farther over the table.

“So wait, Whit’s still just working for Drew, then?”

“It’s Whit. He’s allergic to change.”

“That’s a lot of years to just be a farmhand.”

“Whit? He’s not a farmhand.”

“Oh,” Brad says. “Okay.”

“He’s managing the entire farm side of the operation this year, while Drew does the cheese. He’s like single-handedly running the place.” Straight into the ground, Cooper could add just to be a jerk about it, but it’s not as fun without Whit here to aim that jab at.

“I didn’t think he was, I don’t know, that into it?”

Cooper sets his beer down. “What?”

“Just, that Drew seems to always be cutting his hours. Seems like Whit’s hard to work with, maybe?” Brad holds his hands up. “I don’t know, don’t listen to me, it’s just the impression I got.”

“Whit’s running half that farm. Yeah, maybe he was helping Penny out if you saw him at the bar. He works hard. He’s that type of guy.”

You’re zero fun, Cooper’s said to Whit more than once. Meant it too, and he knows full well if Whit’s not out on a date or with his parents, that means he’s helping Drew out burning the brush pile. He might be there right now, throwing all the heavier branches on himself so Drew doesn’t have to do it.

“Plus,” Cooper says, “we’ve got our herd of pigs and all the laying hens. Drew’s been talking about getting sheep for ages, and the way things are going, Whit’d be in charge of them, too, if that ever happens.”

Which it won’t if the farm doesn’t make it. Cooper frowns down into his beer.

Though if they produced cheese on a bigger scale, they’d have that much more whey, and they could feed it to the pigs. That’d help cut costs and keep their grain bill down. Or, given Whit’s passion for spending all damn day fencing, they could start grazing the pigs on pasture. With what the pigs root up in the fields, the whey, and any extra milk, they wouldn’t need much grain at all. “Huh.”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing, sorry.” Cooper clears his throat.

They could follow up the pigs with the laying hens, let them scratch through the turned-up pastures, then run over it with the plow, reseed it, and have a healthier stand of grass for the next time the cows grazed, and get all that effort back in even more milk. Which plenty of other farms do, but it’d be a big change for Drew’s place. Possible, though. And the farm would be so much better for it.

He looks up and Brad’s watching him.

“Um, what’re you thinking to eat?” Cooper asks, picking up his menu again and studying it even as his mind keeps churning.

Later, Cooper drums his fingers on the table as he figures out his half of the bill. See, he should text Penny, maybe take a picture for her of the two piles of cash.

Though, then Brad puts another one of his smiles on and taps his fingers close to Cooper’s. “There’s that new brewery. We should go sometime.”

“Brewery?” Cooper wants to pull his hand back, but it seems too abrupt. Brad’s just being friendly. There’s no need for Cooper to be as twitchy as he’s feeling. It’s just Penny and her teasing getting to him, he doesn’t need to actually let it bother him.

“Could be fun.”

It won’t be, Cooper’s sure, though he’s hardly about to say it out loud. “Yeah, I bet Drew would like it, too. I’ll mention it to him.”

“Oh.” Brad sits back in his chair and his hand slips away. “Yeah, if you want him to come too.”

In his truck, Cooper fiddles with his phone. You were as wrong as Whit usually is, he starts to type to Penny, only to delete it and drop his phone into the cupholder. This dinner being just a casual bite to eat doesn’t explain the uncomfortable itch between Cooper’s shoulder blades. He’ll tell her about it in person. Or just ignore the whole thing altogether. Whit’ll just be pissy as all hell again if Cooper brings up Brad.

Which…which he doesn’t really want to do in the first place. The evening’s over and Cooper’s ready enough to put it behind him. Through the window, Cooper sees the hazards on Brad’s car flash as it unlocks. Cooper shifts into reverse and pulls out, his headlights cutting across the hand Brad raises in a wave goodbye.