Merry Cowboy Christmas (Lucky Penny Ranch #3)(29)

That job finished, he hopped into the truck, removed his gloves, and rubbed his hands together. “It’s getting colder by the minute. The flakes aren’t wet anymore but dry and they’re coming down faster.”

“We’re in for another bad winter. Dora June’s knee hurts when the weather is changin’ and she’s right every time,” Truman said. “Let’s check on them cows now. I put several bales out yesterday mornin’ but it’s been cold. Probably need to load up another one and take it out to them.”

“So you use the small square bales?” Jud asked. “Most ranchers have gone to the big round ones.”

“I ain’t spendin’ my money for all that equipment to make the big bales when this size has worked my whole life. Ain’t you strong enough to throw a few bales off the back of a truck?” Truman said without even cracking a smile.

“To get you to answer my questions, I’ll restack the whole barn for you,” Jud shot back at him.

Truman’s eyes twinkled even if he didn’t smile. “I won’t ask you to do that but you can load the truck and ride in the back so you can throw the bales off when I stop.”

The old fart was enjoying the company whether he’d admit it or not. Jud settled back into the seat, glad that Truman didn’t have hogs to feed or horse stalls to muck out in the cold weather. Hoping that the snow didn’t fall any faster—or worse yet, make a reverse and decide to turn into sleet—Jud hoped that he didn’t kill Truman with the hike through the mesquite when they got back home.

Truman backed his truck into the barn, stopped right inside the big wide doors, crawled out, and grabbed his hip with a wince. He limped a little as he made his way around the truck to lower the tailgate, but he’d worked the kink out fairly well by the time he picked up a bale. He did fairly well until he reached the truck, where it took two tries before he got the sixty-pound bale onto the tailgate.

“I reckon we’ll need about ten bales today,” he huffed.

No wonder Dora June worried about him and wanted to get out of the ranching business. Jud had a bale of hay in his hands and was about to suggest that he do the heavy lifting but the voice inside his head told him that would offend Truman. He’ll take three steps back instead of two forward, Jud thought as he brought a bale to the back of the truck.

“Hey, Truman, it would go faster if I carried the hay over here and tossed it into the truck bed and you stacked it up so I could get at it easier out there in the field.”

Truman nodded and pulled himself up into the truck bed. Never in his life had Jud wanted to help someone so much, but he held back and let the old guy do it on his own. Then Jud went to work, carrying the rest of the hay.

“First bale ain’t so heavy but this tenth one wears on a man,” Jud said.

“You younguns ain’t got what it takes to ranch. You got all that fancy machinery and all you got to do is sit in an air-conditioned cab all day,” Truman panted as he stacked the last bale.

“We still make small bales over on the Lucky Penny. I’m kind of lookin’ forward to hauling hay next summer,” Jud argued.

“Well, when you’re so sore you can’t move that first night, you call Dora June and she’ll send over some of her liniment, but you’ll have to send one of your kin after it because I ain’t bringin’ it to you,” Truman declared.

“She make a good kind, does she?” Jud rubbed at his arm even though it wasn’t a bit sore.

“Everything Dora June makes is good. We going to stand around her jawin’ or are we goin’ to feed the cattle? And since you are workin’ for me this mornin’, we do things my way,” Truman said.

“And that is?”

“I like to go down to Katy’s store for a cup of hot coffee and a little visitin’ with the men folks after chores.”

“You aren’t afraid to be seen with a Dawson?”

Truman narrowed his eyes at Jud. “I ain’t afraid of nothing but losin’ Dora June.”

“Then why do you fuss at her so much?” Jud asked.

“It’s our way,” Truman said bluntly.

“Folks might think you are changing your mind about the Dawsons if we go to Katy’s store.”

All he got in response was another grunt.



Jud wished he could have taken a picture of Fiona’s face when he walked into the store with Truman and headed back to the table where half a dozen old geezers were discussing the weather over their morning coffee.

She raised an eyebrow.

Jud smiled and said, “Two cups of coffee and bring us a dozen of those doughnuts. I’ll treat the guys this morning.”

“You got a new runnin’ buddy?” Herman Hudson asked.

“Hell no! I ain’t about to start runnin’ with a Dawson. He needs my help, so he had to work to get it.”

“If I could get him to work for me, I’d pay him whatever he asked,” Herman said.

Fiona set a tray with two cups of coffee and a dozen doughnuts on the table. “Any of y’all need a refill?”

“Not me. I got to get out to the Lucky Penny and do some wood cuttin’. I swear, all that mesquite they’ve been clearing has been a gold mine to me and mine these past two winters.” Herman picked up a doughnut and shoved it in his mouth, holding it there while he put on his coat. When he finished, he bit off a third of the doughnut and asked Fiona to put his coffee on his bill.