Guarding Hope

He traded in his expensive, tailored suit for a pair of jeans, flannel button-down, and a set of spurs. Gage worked his whole twenties busting his ass to land the lead DA position only to lose his passion for it. Still in his prime at thirty-one, he wanted to feel the Texas sun on his face and working up a sweat like his father and his grandfather before him.

“But I handle the heat like a real cowboy.”

Gage winked at Colt, raising his paddle for the next lot of six heifers. Every single cowboy and their hands operated the same way; they pulled out their bandanas from their back pockets and wiped the sweat before tucking it back in. Colt just enjoyed busting his cousin’s chops for leaving ranching in the first place.

“Screw you. I’m ready to get the hell out of here. I’ve got enough cattle to start.” The auction had over four hundred cattle for sale, and he’d nabbed a fifth of the lots. Thankfully, he’d brought Colt with him, or he’d probably have lost some auctions or overspent.

“Not enough to turn a profit this year.” Colt, despite being two years younger than his cousin, owned his own ranch two towns over that saw profits from his first year and on.

“I’m not looking for a profit this year. I’m looking to get back to when my family had one of the largest cattle ranches in Texas.” With a stout inheritance from his grandparents and wise investments he’d made over the past ten years, he didn’t need to work again. But like many Texans, hard work and pure grit were ingrained in each country child from the moment they could walk.

He still owned the acreage from when his daddy tended cattle, but he sold off all the livestock after his father died. The work was too much for him to handle along with his education and practice.

After a night of binge drinking in Austin, Gage’s father wrecked his truck into the lone tree in a twenty mile stretch of road. He’d gone and done something awful before that and couldn’t live with the consequences. Apparently, he’d been seeing a woman who broke his heart when he found out she had someone on the side, so he killed the cheating woman. Ironically, he’d been cheating on his wife with the mistress.

Gage’s mother struggled with the deception and betrayal for years, but his infidelity hadn’t been the only problem. For years, their family name rested in the dirt. Gage had worked hard to wipe the shame away. Once he made a name for himself as one of the most honorable prosecutors around, he felt it was time for him to return to his roots and fix that tarnished brand.

Sensing the tension rolling through Gage’s large frame, he leaned in and whispered, “Remember, bud. Don’t let your past haunt you. Make smart choices. I say you need eight more yearlings.”

Pissed at the situation his father created, Gage switched his whole life around to become something more, but his heart finally returned home. Listening to his cousin and reminding himself that sons weren’t always like their fathers, he took a deep breath and collected himself.

He’d promised himself that he’d never become a wife-beating, cheating bastard like his daddy. It should be easy because Gage had never been a womanizer, and he wouldn’t start even if he ever got married.

Some things in your youth just brand you for life. The scars of his father’s deceit never left Gage, and he promised to always be the best man he could be. Now he had to finish what he started and get the cattle he needed to make Gibson Cattle Ranch a success.

“Winning bid, number 302.”

Gage looked at Colt’s number, shaking his head. Both men dominated the auction. “Looks like you won another lot.”

Colt nodded slyly, causing Gage to furrow his brow. Ignoring Gage’s suspicions, he offered, “As soon as we get out of here, let’s grab a beer.”

“Sounds good. I need it.” Gage grabbed his paddle and lifted it into the air on the next lot of a dozen yearlings.

“Then we can talk about ranch hands. You’re going to need at least a half a dozen. Several ranches went under with the last floods. You might be able to scoop up a few good ones from there.”

“Winning bid belongs to number 303.”

Gage’s mouth formed a grin, and the cousins shook hands.

“We’re racking them up. Let’s get going now.”

“I can get with that idea.”

They stood up and shimmied out of the rows of sports seating and head out to square up their winning lots. It took another hour to get them all done and signed for. They managed to have all the lots scheduled for delivery for tomorrow.

“What the fuck, Colt?” He took the form that belonged to Colt, and it had the delivery address Gibson Ranch on it in black sharpie.