Her Four Cowboys

“Hey, bro,” I heard from behind me, and I turned around to see Adam standing in the doorway. Aside from the occasional text, I hadn’t spoken to him much since Sunday, when we’d essentially cornered him and pushed him into unburdening himself to us. I knew that he hadn’t felt exactly comfortable sitting there, particularly after our mother had made her extremely unsubtle remarks about wanting us to meet someone and—horror of horrors—bring home the woman we met to meet her and our dad.

I was happy to see that since then. Though, it looked like he’d gotten a few good nights of sleep, not to mention a few square meals, and there seemed to be a general air of more contentedness around him.

“Hey, lil’ bro,” I said, putting my tools down and starting to head towards him. “What’s good?”

“I just got the feed delivery in,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “Would you mind helping me unload this barn’s share?”

“Sure,” I said, grabbing my thick wool jacket from the bench where I’d left it and pulling it on as I headed to the door. Adam was already taking the cover off the bed of the large truck that we used to go pick up our deliveries of food, and he’d climbed inside to start pulling out the heavy bags.

I pulled out the cart and started to load up the bags, ensuring that the weight was evenly distributed before I began to steer it inside. Between the two of us, we worked quickly and efficiently, with Adam counting out according to the invoice and me being the organizational workhorse I was known to be.

Once we had a neat pile of feed bags stacked in the corner of the barn, Adam sat down with a sigh, reaching for the bottle of water he kept on hand and taking a long slug.

“Care to share?” I asked, holding out my hand, and he tossed me the bottle with a neat flick of his wrist that showed his jock past. I unscrewed it and took a hydrating sip, wiping the water off my upper lip with the back of my hand.

“How are you doing, Adam?” I asked, pitching my voice lower and more gently than it had been in years. It wasn’t like I was typically a deliberate asshole to my brother, but I hadn’t treated him with kid gloves in years. “What’s been going on since Sunday?”

“Pretty good, actually,” he said, picking up one of the apples from a nearby bucket and turning it over and over in his hands as he measured his words. “I thought a lot about what you all said, and you guys helped me a ton.”

“That’s good,” I said. “I was worried we upset you. I know you hate it when we butt in.”

“I do, most of the time,” he said with a grin.

“But this was one of the times when you didn’t?” I returned.

“Exactly,” he said, and we both laughed.

“So, what did you decide,” I asked, leaning forward, “about this girl who’s so special that she’s got you pining after her?”

He raised his eyebrow at me, and I raised my hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. Whatever. You’re not pining.”

He held up his hand for the water, and I tossed back to him.

“Well, I texted her,” he said, unscrewing the top of the bottle.

“Okaaaaay,” I said, dragging out the word in that way that we usually made fun of other people for, since it sounded so dumb. “That’s a step in the right direction at least.”

He rolled his eyes. “Leave me alone. I can’t help wanting to be sure that it’s at least the right time to say it, or the right circumstances.” He ran his hand through his espresso-dark hair, making it stand up straight like a cockscomb. I bit my lip to keep from telling him. I knew that it wouldn’t benefit either of us to tell him.

“Adam,” I said, “there’s no such thing as the right time to be happy or unhappy. Believe me, I should know.”

His eyes flicked up to me, and I shrugged one of my shoulders.

“I’m just saying that when I decided to leave school, I rationalized my choice by telling myself it wasn’t the right time to do that for myself. I could be selfish later when I would have more control over the consequences.” I looked hard at him. “You have all the control over the consequences right now, Adam. You just have to be brave enough to take the next step.”

He blinked at me a couple of times before taking another gulp of water. “Did you learn that at college?”

“Nope. I learned it after,” I said. “I’m telling it to you now.”

He nodded, setting his chin in his hand before reaching forward and picking up a small piece of hay, flipping it through his fingers as he thought.