1
Brandon Rhinehart walked into the cabin he’d once shared with his older brother—and whom he now shared with his cousin Dwayne.
“Howdy,” he said as Dwayne tucked in his shirt and re-buckled his belt.
“I’m heading back out to the fields,” Dwayne said with a straight face. “I just had to use the bathroom somethin’ fierce.”
Brandon grinned at him. “I’m not your daddy, my friend.” He pulled open the fridge and got out a couple of cans of sparkling water. “I’d enjoy the air conditioning and cold water while you can.”
“Are you done for the day?”
Brandon shook his head as he snapped open the first can of water. Sometimes he put energy packets in them to give them flavor, but today, he simply tipped the can back and started guzzling. Finally satiated, he slid the other can to Dwayne. “Nope. I’m just in for dinner, and then I’ll be out to relieve you.”
They’d been assigned opposite schedules for the harvest, as Brandon didn’t like getting up early, and Dwayne couldn’t sleep past five a.m.
“One more hour,” Dwayne said, and he faced the front door with determination in his dark eyes. Then he swiped the water off the counter and took it with him while Brandon chuckled.
Dwayne had not lived outside of his childhood home for long, and he still struggled to do whatever he wanted as an adult. Brandon knew he wasn’t the greatest influence on the young man, as he lived his life exactly how he wanted. He ate when he wanted to eat, drank what he wanted to drink, went to bed when he wanted, and got up when he wanted. He also had an extreme sense of duty, and he’d never had a problem taking an assignment.
Brandon had never had a problem getting a date. Or having friends. Or much of anything. He was easy-going and personable. He worked hard, and he loved Texas, his parents, his family, dogs, chickens, horses, and cats.
His happy-go-lucky life had taken a turn for the worse in the past couple of years, as Brandon’s desire to meet someone he fell hard for and spent the rest of his life working to make happy grew, and grew, and grew. He wanted children, and a house he didn’t share with another male family member, and land he could cultivate with his own hands.
“The land is out,” he told himself as he pulled a fried chicken meal out of the freezer. “But you might be able to get the rest.”
Of course, he’d gone on a female fast recently, choosing instead to order his groceries and household items online and picking them up from the safety of his pick-up truck. He’d stopped using TwoCents, as well as any dating apps, to meet women. He just needed to figure out where he should be, and then he could get back to dating.
With his hot fried chicken, gravy, and mashed potatoes, Brandon settled at the table with another can of sparkling water. This time, he slapped a packet of grape powder against the edge of the table, then ripped it open and poured it into the can. Theresulting bubbling made him smile, and he picked up his fork to eat dinner.
Instead of scrolling apps for a date, Brandon had started looking at the temporary job boards for farms, ranches, and any other outdoor operations surrounding Three Rivers. He’d worked as far as Pampa, an hour southeast, and out at a one-man operation west of town that he’d used the west exit of the ranch to get to faster.
Everyone needed help at the harvest, but Brandon had committed to Duke and Arizona that he wouldn’t go bring in someone else’s crops. Harvesting was the hardest work a cowboy did, and Brandon had his fill of it here at the Rhinehart Ranch just fine.
Since Brandon looked at these listings every day—sometimes multiple times each day—he recognized the jobs he’d seen before. Then his eyes caught on a new listing, and he put a bit of food in his mouth and lifted his phone closer to see it better.
Winterizing Help Needed.
He tapped to open the listing to see more details, wondering what would be required. His heartbeat started to pound when he saw this was a “minimum three-month position, with possible long-term work for the right fit.”
Room and board included, and Brandon forgot completely about his microwavable meal. The listing said he’d have his own cabin to live in on the property, with his own garden space if he wanted it.
This is a homestead, the listing continued.I can’t pay you much, but I need help getting the animal pens shored up and repaired for winter, winterizing fields, cutting down trees for firewood, and possibly drilling a well.
“No water,” Brandon muttered to himself, because he could read between the lines.
I have chickens who produce plenty of free eggs, and a garden and greenhouse that produces vegetables year-round. I’m looking for someone who can help get more pastures and enclosures built, so I can add turkeys, goats, and cattle for milk and meat. My goal is to be completely dependent on the land, and anything we can raise and grow here is free for the person who can help me get my homestead to this point. Serious inquiries only, with the understanding the salary will be low.
A name and phone number sat at the bottom, but Brandon couldn’t see it right now, as he wasn’t logged in to the job board. He did that and found a female name sitting there: Lenore Sawyer.
He tapped on the phone number and his phone brought up the option to text or call. In this moment, the fact that Brandon would rather call than text reminded him of how he was closer to forty than thirty, and he lifted the phone to his ear as it started to ring.
The sun stayed up pretty late still, and Brandon could also get up earlier to make it to an interview should he get one. He left his dinner on the table and went to sit in front of the computer, because he’d be able to see the schedule here at the ranch easier that way.
“Hello?” a woman answered.
“Hey, there,” Brandon said easily. “This is Brandon Rhinehart, and I just saw your help wanted listing on the Temporary Rancher’s Forum.”
“Sure,” the woman said easily, and Brandon relaxed a little bit. “You saw the part about a low salary?”
