Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27610 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 138(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I guess a part of me can understand the decorations. I’m sure Amos and the Johnson brothers go all out for Christmas. Though, they’ve got a whole damn passel of kids, and every last one of them is married. One of those things I could have had if being a workaholic when I was younger if it didn’t bite me in the ass. Now, I’m nearing forty, live on a mountain, and am grumpier than my father ever was. Jesus, I’ve got to get my shit together. The whole reason of selling the family homestead, moving, and starting over was to at least not be such a damn recluse. Clearly, some things will never change.
I open the door to the tractor supply store and make my way through the throngs of people, tipping my head at a few, saying hello to some, and keeping my eyes off the other shit they have in the store. I’m a simple man. Frills and thrills don’t much excite me. The displays do nothing to sway my decision on needing another piece of equipment or lights that will make my skid steer more festive.
“Hey, Clay, what brings you into town?” Hank asks once I make it up to the clerk desk. He knows this is the last place I wanna be. The mountain is where I prefer. The solace, no one wanting or needing something out of me. Instead, I’m here getting shit I shouldn’t fuckin’ need yet.
“Hi, Hank. Same shit, different day. How’s it going?” I reply before we get down to brass tacks.
“Stayin’ busy, so I can’t complain.”
“I sure could. You all ever have problems with my side of the mountain and people plowing through guard rails, hitting the damn rock, or breaking down?” I’ve yet to ask Winston, mainly because I haven’t called him, and since he’s a realtor and busy as shit, I haven’t seen him either.
“Not that I know of, but the weather’s been a bitch this year. Usually, we don’t see this kind of weather until further on in the season.” Makes sense. Still don’t gotta like it.
“That’ll do it. I need a hydraulic filter, fluid, and hoses. I swear I’ve spent more time helping people out than I have working on my place.” Hank plugs whatever it is he needs to into the computer. Meanwhile, I’m hoping on a wing and a damn prayer the parts don’t have to be ordered. That’d set me back even further. I may have quit the breeding side for profit, but I’ve still got animals of my own: a couple of horses, five cows, two goats, and three chickens. Nothing like I had back in Texas. Of course, I was trying to make a living back then, too. Here in Alpha Mountain, I’m looking for a slower pace of life. I’m too damn tired, too damn ornery, and too damn old to be traipsing all over the country and getting my ass kicked because an animal doesn’t want to be loaded in a trailer.
Shit, that could still happen now, though it’s a hell of a lot less likely. My animals are just about domesticated with me being around them so much. One of my heifers can hear me opening the back door and rushes toward me, nudging at my hand until I give her the appropriate number of pets she wants. As for the chickens, well, they do whatever the hell they want. They have a coop they go in at night if they want; don’t have too much to worry about critters going after them. My girl, Nala, a Great Pyrenees, has been with me forever, and while Texas doesn’t have the cold weather Colorado does, at least where we lived, she had a place with air conditioning to cool down whenever needed. Then there’s the barn cat, Jasmine, who came with the house and has wrapped herself around me every chance she can get. Hell, she’s more like an inside cat than anything, even uses the dog door that’s really Nala’s.
“Got good news for you,” Hank says. My mind is in the damn clouds, where it shouldn’t be, except since I’m in town, I make a list of everything else I can get done.
“Yeah?”
“Yep, got everything you need in stock. Give me a minute. I’ll go grab everything, then ring you up and send you on your way.” Hank moves from his place on his stool, a paper in hand, and walks toward the back. I stay where I am, again going over everything I can get in town. There’s feed to stock up on, extra supplies for fencing, and salt blocks, and then a trip to the grocery store is in order. The list is never-ending.
“Here you go.” Hank places everything on the tabletop. This is going to cost a whack, but it’s needed if I’m going to have a new pasture for the animals to graze on come spring.