Cattle Stop by Kit Oliver

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.”

“Obviously.” Oh shit, he really means. Well, Whit was going to find out what Cooper’s been up to at some point, and maybe it’s better that it’s here at the bar and not in the cool, steely silence of their room. Whit’s room. Whatever.

Cooper claps Drew on the shoulder, drops onto the stool next to him, and says, “Consider your gates fixed. Almost fixed. About to be fixed.”

“You got all that done today? Out in the back fields?” Drew asks.

Cooper takes the glass brimming with beer from Penny and clinks it against Drew’s. “I’m good, what can I say?”

Whit straightens on his stool. “The gates in the back fields weren’t broken.”

“So listen to this, right? Gates are supposed to hold cows in. Those gates? Yeah, no, they were like a suggestion of a barrier, at best. And now they’re being replaced, so you’re welcome.” Cooper takes a long drink and glances toward the door, but Brad’s not here yet. Which is too bad ’cause he might’ve liked to see Whit and him already going a round or two.

Whit pushes his pint glass away so he can lean around Drew. “Being replaced with new gates?”

“With new gate-like equipment.” Cooper tips his beer toward Whit. “You’re welcome, too, though I know how much you love fencing, sorry for actually finishing a project.”

“Almost finishing, apparently,” Whit says.

“More done than it was, thank you very much.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Guys,” Drew says.

Whit opens his mouth like he’s got more to say, but the door swings open and Cooper spins away and lifts a hand. “Brad, hey.”

Whit lets out a soft scoff. “You invited him?”

“We’re just meeting here, it’s halfway.” Cooper slips down to his feet and calls over, “Got them?”

“They’re in my truck.” Brad snaps his gum, and Cooper tries not to grimace at the wet smack.

“I can grab them now.”

Penny points a finger at Cooper. “Don’t you dare take that glass outside.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay for a drink first,” Brad says and smiles at Cooper.

Well, damn. No getting the cattle stops installed tonight if they’re going to idle away the evening here. Though Drew’s lifting a hand to wave at Brad and that’s at least something beyond the thousand-yard stare he’s had going on. Maybe Drew will stay out for another bit if all of them are here enjoying themselves. Cooper presses his lips together and sits back on his stool.

Whit leans back to fix Cooper with a look behind Drew. “You bought those cattle guards?”

“Cattle stops, and yep, they’re ours now,” Cooper says as Brad grabs the stool next to his.

“I got an offer on the land,” Brad says and nods when Penny points a glass at the line of beer taps. “The lager, please. They don’t want the equipment, so I told Coop he could just have them.”

Drew stills with his glass half-raised. “You got an offer?”

“I got an offer and found a new place, a sweet brand-new apartment building, so I might actually stand a chance of being warm next winter without hauling in tractor loads of firewood. Which—the tractor’s gotta go too, if you guys want it.”

“How much are you selling it for?” Drew asks, then ducks over his beer glass. “No, uh, no thanks.”

“An apartment?” Cooper tries not to frown. Brad’s knee knocks into his own.

“Get this—modern plumbing.” Brad snaps his gum again as he lifts his glass for a drink.

Gum and beer. So gross. Cooper touches his fist to his mouth and clears his throat.

“Do those cattle guards actually work?” Whit asks. “Did you ever use them?”

Brad takes another swallow of beer. “They’re a psychological barrier, not a physical one.”

Whit lets out a huff. “I get the theory. I’m asking practically.”

“The cows don’t think they can walk across them, so they don’t,” Brad says.

“But they can. If they wanted to.”

“Which they don’t, ’cause get it? They stop?” Cooper points a finger at Whit, though of course he doesn’t smile at the joke.

“I get it,” Brad says. “Cattle stops, that’s funny, Coop.”

Cooper sighs and drops his hand. “C’mon, Whit, it’s fine, it’s a good plan.”

“Were you going to ask Drew?” Whit asks.

“Drew’s busy,” Cooper says.

“Guys, I’m right here,” Drew says.

“I think Cooper’s plan is great,” Brad says, clapping Cooper on the back. It jostles his beer and Cooper sets the glass down on the bar before it can slosh over the rim. Brad leaves his hand there, too heavy and warm for the heat lingering from the afternoon.

Whit stands and pushes his glass away.

“Where’re you going?” Cooper asks.

“Out.”

Cooper looks around at the bar. “You are out.”

“Out, out.”

“Oh, out, out, of course,” Cooper says. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Whit shoves his barstool in harder than the poor thing probably deserves. “Good night.”

It’s quiet for a long minute after the door bangs shut, Penny staring after Whit before she slowly turns to Cooper.

“What?” Cooper asks.

Penny says, “Eres igual de tonto que carita.”¹

“Wait, say that slower. I’ll get it this time.”

Drew turns his glass in a slow circle. “What’re you doing these days for work, Brad?”

“Moving on up the supply chain.” Brad finally takes his hand off Cooper’s shoulder, and Cooper picks at his shirt over his chest. He’s already gross with a day’s sweat and dirt, and Brad’s hand on him doesn’t make that layer of grime feel any better. “That market down by the highway? You’re looking at their new farmer liaison and purchaser.”

Cooper eyes Brad. “Is that even a thing?”

“Sure is.” Brad snaps his gum again. In a clear, delightful image, Cooper pictures himself smacking Brad on the back until the wad flies out of his mouth.

“You enjoying it?” Drew asks.

“I’m enjoying paying my bills on time.”

“Travis helped you sell your place?”

Across the bar, Penny catches Cooper’s eye and grimaces. Yeah, bad. Real bad direction of conversation.

Cooper pushes his stool back and drains the last of his beer. “Brad, let me grab those stops from your truck.”

“We can hang out for a minute, yeah?” Brad taps Cooper’s stool. “Sit.”

Shut up, he wants to say, because Drew’s looking thoughtful, spinning his glass of beer in that slow circle, a crease between his eyebrows.

“Nah, I gotta grab them now and get back to the farm before Whit goes filling in all my carefully dug ditches. Drew, you want to come with?”

“Take him home,” Penny says. “Drew, go home with Cooper and get some rest. I’ll bring your Jeep back to the farm and deal with my bike later.”

“Okay.” Drew slips slowly off his stool.

Outside, Brad smacks a hand to the stack of grates lying in the back of his truck. “Nice, huh?”

What they are is heavy, and Cooper’s shoulders strain as he and Brad slide them from the bed of Brad’s truck and into Cooper’s. The grates are loud too, as they drop the last one on top of the stack with a clang. Cooper rubs at his shoulders and neck, stretching his head to the side.

“Sure you don’t want to stay for another drink?” Brad asks as Cooper grabs the cooler he’d packed full of cheese earlier.

“Gotta start burning the midnight oil, now that spring’s here.” Cooper pushes a wheel of Brie and some cheddar into Brad’s hands. “Thanks, man.”

“You know what, I don’t think I miss working all day, every day,” Brad says. “Hey, Coop, so good to see you, yeah?”

“Talk about separating the wheat from the chaff,” Cooper mutters as he and Drew climb into the truck. Cooper puts on a smile and waves to Brad. “A little hard work never killed anyone.”

“He really just gave you those cattle stops?” Drew asks.

“For some cheese.” That’s piling up with no farmers’ markets, Cooper doesn’t add. He slaps his hand over his stomach before he shifts into reverse. “I’ll eat less of it this week, make up for it. Gotta stay in fighting shape, anyway.”

“Is there a lucky guy you’ve got your eye on?”

“No, I just have an ongoing competition to have better abs than Whit.” Cooper peels up his shirt and looks down at his stomach, mostly to see if Drew will grin. “Someday.”

Drew does smile, but it’s a weak effort, a shadow of the way he normally does. Cooper slaps Drew’s stomach too, poking at his ribs until he gets an exhausted laugh and a halfhearted bat at his hand.

At the house, Drew idly scratches Sadie’s head as he makes his way inside. Don’t, Cooper thinks as Drew glances at the clock over the stove, like he’s really considering working on the attic tonight.

Which he might, if Cooper heads back out to keep working himself.

“I wouldn’t mind hitting the sack early,” Cooper says and ushers Drew toward the stairs. “Get some rest, like Penny said?”

Especially if Whit’s really gone tonight. Finding some guy to fuck, Cooper can’t help but think. Maybe he’ll come back in the early hours of the morning and silently slip into the shower. It’s bound to happen one of these nights. And it’ll be a relief when it does, Cooper wants to believe. Whit gone off with some equally hot, annoying, and pedantic asshole, probably complaining about Cooper the entire time. Better than lying there in the dark silence, listening to Whit’s breathing only a handful of feet away as Cooper tosses and turns and tries to sleep.

Cooper points Drew toward his bedroom, pressing a palm to the attic door when Drew glances toward it. “If you start in on a night of carpentry, I’ll tell Penny, and then you’ll really be in the shitter. Farm reg forty-three point six: not listening to the wonderful roommate who constantly hooks us up with free beer.”

A ghost of a smile crosses Drew’s face. “That’s forty-three point five. Forty-three point six is picking up said wonderful roommate from the bar when it unexpectedly rains and she’s ridden her motorcycle there.”

“See? You know the rules. Bedtime, Andrew, and don’t think I won’t send a squirrel to check that your lights are off in ten minutes and no playing on your phone,” Cooper says and waits until Drew’s door closes before he heads down the hall.

Cooper kicks the bedroom door shut and shucks off his shirt. His fucking shoulder hurts again. Well, a hot shower can help fix that, and maybe no Whit tonight will do even more to ease that building, chronic tension.

Cooper starts on his belt and the bathroom door suddenly swings open. He jumps, belt buckle jangling. “Dammit, Whit, I thought you were out.”

Whit crosses his arms. “I’m not.”

“What happened to out, out?”

It’s only Whit, he tells himself and yanks his belt out of his belt loops. If Whit wanted to watch Cooper strip his clothes off, he’s had ample opportunity, and he never apparently does.

“Were you going to bother to tell me you were getting those cattle guards from Brad?”

“You came back to keep yelling at me?” Cooper dumps his belt on his bed and tosses his phone next to it. “Did you park behind the barn, just to be really sneaky? What the hell?”

Cooper’s phone chimes. That cheese is some good stuff, the text reads.

“Is that the farm in Oregon?”

“Why, you counting down the days until they give me a start date? Nope, still haven’t heard from them, which I’m sure you already know, but thanks for your ongoing support. Feels great, bud.”

“Is it Brad?”

“What the hell is your problem with him?” Cooper starts to flick the message away, but Whit’s still looking at him, so he takes the time to type back, There’s plenty more where that came from.

“He wants to keep helping you,” Whit says.

“And that’s an issue for you? That he doesn’t want to see another farm go belly-up?” Cooper yanks off a sock. “God forbid he be generous.”

“You think that’s what he cares about?” Whit puts his hands on his hips. He looks bigger like that, his shoulders filling out his shirt.

Cooper hops on his other foot to get that sock off too. Then he just drops to sit on the edge of his mattress, his elbows on his knees and his feet braced on the cold floor. With both hands, he digs his fingers into his hair. He’s tired. His back is sore. He probably should scrounge up some dinner. And he needs his own damn room where he can shove the door shut and not deal with Whit in his face.

“I don’t want to fight with you.” Cooper takes a deep breath and lets it out again, trying to calm the heat burning through his chest. He really doesn’t want to fight. Or he does, just not like this, incessant and unending, and with Drew and the farm at stake, not their normal half-amusing, mostly petty disagreements about which type of grain scoops are the best and how to coil a hose.

“Okay.”

“I mean it.” Cooper tightens his fingers in his hair, the strands long enough to brush the backs of his hands. “I think we’re driving Drew nuts.”

“Then stop.”

“You stop,” Cooper mumbles. It’s driving him nuts, too. He drags his hands down his face, scrubbing at his eyes. His skin feels gritty with the salt of the day’s sweat. He really does need to shower. And put on a clean change of clothes. Cool off, get away from Whit, get some food, and let this latest argument blow over.

To his surprise, Whit sits on the edge of his own mattress. It’s more obvious how close their beds are like this, the narrow lane between them only the nightstand’s width apart. If Cooper wanted to, he could nearly knock his knee into Whit’s.

The shirt Cooper dropped sits right in the middle of that cramped space. It’s probably driving Whit nuts, just lying there. He sighs, leans over to grab the shirt, and tosses it toward the pile of dirty laundry he’s amassed. Right beside it is his duffle bag, which is more a yawning pile of mostly clean clothing that they both have to step over to reach the bathroom. This room is too damn small, and as Whit’s eyes track Cooper rubbing at his forehead, Cooper’s entirely sure that they’re both thinking that same thing.

“I know that Drew values your…innovation,” Whit says slowly. Cooper snorts. That must be a much nicer word than Whit probably wanted to use. “But I’m not sure this is the year to be coming up with all sorts of new ideas.”

“It’s not new,” Cooper says. “Farms all over the place use cattle stops to—”

“The farm needs to be making more money, not just reinventing the wheel.”

“There’s nothing wrong with cattle stops.” Cooper rubs his hands down his thighs and forces in a slow, deep breath. “Whit. You—you get freaked out and then you get paralyzed and you don’t do anything. Someone around here has to, or that’s going to be Drew next spring with a new job and a new apartment, and you and I both know what that would do to him. He got handed his family’s farm, and now he thinks he’s going to blow his shot running it.”

A frown pinches Whit’s mouth. “I don’t do that.”

“You don’t?” Cooper waves a hand toward the window and the barn beyond it. “How many times have you taken down those gates, fixed them, and put them back up? And the milking lines? You know that pump is bad and other dairies aren’t even using that model anymore. Aren’t you supposed to be taking some of this stuff off Drew’s plate this summer? Didn’t he put you in charge around here this year? He’s up to his elbows in Camembert, and if you’re not keeping an eye on these things, who is? Penny? Sadie?”

“The pump works fine.”

“The pump works fine when it works,” Cooper says. “Are you just going to sit by while the farm falls apart the rest of the way?”

“Apparently, you didn’t need me to tell you the farm isn’t doing well financially, if you know so much.”

Cooper spreads his hands out. “Calling it as I see it.”

“And you really think that changing those gates for cattle guards will make the difference?”

“I think changing them for cattle stops will. And I think it’s a start, and I’ll figure out the rest of it, because apparently your plan is to keep your head down and just do what you’ve always done, year after year. I think it’s pretty clear how far that’s getting you.” Cooper pushes up to his feet, and dammit, his pants leave behind bits of hay all over his quilt.

He shuts his eyes for a long moment. He’s tired and cranky, and he really does need dinner. And now Whit’s still sitting there, probably pissed off all over again at the dirt Cooper’s tracked in here. Cooper can nearly feel his eyes on his bare chest. He clears his throat and yanks his towel off the footboard of his bed. “I’m going to shower.”

“Cooper…”

“I told you, I don’t want to argue.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Whit’s voice sounds softer than Cooper might’ve expected, or maybe that’s just the door closing between them and the drum of the shower as he turns it on.