Take the Long Road Home - 6. Chapter 6

TROY

I watched my dad as Morgan confessed to everything. I knew that look. The wheels were spinning as Dad processed all the information and compartmentalized it into things he had a solution for and things he didn’t. That’s the type of person he was, analytical to a fault. It was rare for him to let his emotions make a decision.

What I really wanted to do was hold Morgan in my arms and make everything go away, but I settled for keeping my hand on his shaking knee. His anxiety was palpable, and it made my heart ache. Morgan had only been here a few weeks, but I knew I had fallen hard for him. I’m pretty sure he felt the same.

Morgan sagged as he finished telling Dad and Carson everything. I didn’t know the extent of how badly he was hurting, and I wish there were more that I could do.

Dad leaned back in his chair and glanced at Carson before looking back at Morgan. “That’s quite a bit of heavy stuff you’ve been carrying around, son. There’s a lot that needs to be sorted out. I need to make a few phone calls and see if I can get more information.”

“Ar-are you going to call the police?” Morgan asked.

Dad’s eyes were kind as he held Morgan’s gaze. “Yes, but not in the way you think. I’m not turning you in. The county sheriff is a friend, and I’m going to ask him to look into your uncle’s death. Until we know whether or not it’s considered suspicious, I can’t make any decisions or suggest any solutions. Fair enough?”

Morgan nodded. I squeezed his knee.

“So, what do we call you?” I blurted.

Carson chuckled. “Your boyfriend drops a bombshell on us, and all you ask is what he wants to be called?”

My cheeks reddened. “You just heard him say he’s only been ‘Morgan’ for a few months. If he’s more comfortable with ‘Miles’, then that’s what we should be calling him.”

Before Morgan could answer, Dad interjected, “We start calling him Miles. Regardless of what happens, he stole someone else’s identity, and that will need to be addressed.” Dad’s softer gaze was gone, and the look he gave Miles was one both Meg and I had been on the receiving end of many times. It was his I-mean-business look. “Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Carson and Dad exchanged another look. I swear they could read each other’s minds sometimes. Our ranch foreman said, “Miles, go get your things from the bunkhouse. I don’t think it’s a good idea to house a sixteen-year-old with adults, especially when we have temporary help bunking down there.”

Dad nodded. “You can use the guest room.”

“Can he stay with me, Dad? Please?” I didn’t want Mor–, uh, Miles, being alone tonight, or any night for that matter.

Dad took a deep breath and blew it out. It was a full two minutes before he answered, “Okay, but I expect you to respect my home.”

Miles and I nodded. We wouldn’t abuse the privilege we’d been given.

“Git. Carson and I have business to discuss.” I knew that ‘business’ meant they needed to discuss Miles’ situation without us present. “Don’t stay up late. There’s a lot of work to be done tomorrow. I expect you to be on time for breakfast.”

“Thank you, Mr. Riggs,” Miles said as he stood and reached across the desk to shake Dad’s hand.

I walked around the desk and hugged my father. “Thank you, Dad. I love you.”

Dad hugged me back and planted a kiss on my temple. “I love you, too. I’ll do everything I can to help Miles.”

I merely nodded, my voice suddenly choking up as tears threatened to spill. For the first time since Miles told me his story, I was at peace. It was a relief to hand over the worry I’d felt over the whole situation. I’m sure Dad was thinking about my ordeal with Tyson. If there were anything he could do to alleviate Miles’ problems, he would do it.

We quietly left the office and went to the bunkhouse. Most of the guys were relaxing in the common area, and a few were in their bunks reading or playing on their phones. Nole and Pete came over when they saw us packing Miles’ things.

“Everything okay, guys?” Nole asked, his face wearing a look of concern.

Miles shook his head. “Yes and no. I, uh, have some stuff that needs to be sorted out. Mr. Riggs is helping me out with it.”

“He’s going to stay at the house for a while,” I added. I’d let Dad explain everything to his crew.

“Okay. Let us know if we can help,” Nole offered.

“Thanks,” Miles replied softly, his eyes downcast.

Silently, we returned to my room. I made space in my dresser and closet for Miles’ things. Even though it was too early to go to bed, we changed into comfortable sleepwear and slipped under the covers. Miles scooted over and rested his head on my shoulder.

“What do you think is going to happen?” he asked.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, my dad will do everything he can to fix it. Sheriff Collins is a decent guy. He and my dad went to school together. Before we hired Mrs. P, his wife would send over a week’s worth of Tupperware with all sorts of food that Dad only needed to heat up. Don’t tell Mrs. P, but her lasagna is to die for.”

The corner of Miles’ mouth gave an upward flicker, and then he sighed. “I don’t want to leave here. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m home. I feel safe.”

I kissed his cheek. “You are safe. Dad will make sure you stay that way. He likes you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if he didn’t, he never would’ve hired you in the first place.”

A comfortable silence settled over us. Soon, the excitement and stress of the day caught up to us, and I heard Miles’ breathing even out as he slipped into unconsciousness. My eyelids felt as if they weighed a million pounds as they closed, and darkness pulled me under, too.

I woke first, a few minutes before my alarm was set to go off. Miles had turned on his side, and I was spooned against his back. The warmth he radiated was comforting. He stirred when I reached behind me to shut off my alarm when it started to beep.

I slung my arm over his middle and breathed him in.

“Mmm. Morning.” His voice was gravelly with the remnants of sleep.

“Morning.” I hugged him before letting go and sliding out into the cool air of my room. As much as I wanted to stay and cuddle, my bladder demanded otherwise. After taking care of business, Miles got up and did the same.

By the time he was finished, I had pulled on jeans and a T-shirt and was shoving my arms into a clean flannel. I waited as Miles donned similar attire. Thankfully, by the time we reached the dining room, we were more alert.

We helped ourselves to food from the spread Mrs. P had laid out and sat at the table Nole and Pete already occupied. Nole nodded at us. “Morning, Troy. Morning, Miles.”

Miles’ nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath and looked around to see if anyone else would say anything. Pete gave him a lopsided smile as he shoved a bite of food in his mouth.

“Morning,” Miles replied. It was business as usual.

At this hour, conversation was nonexistent as everyone savored their breakfast. We made quick work of devouring the breakfast burritos and extra bacon.

After we ate, we headed to the barn to saddle the horses. Duncan was eager to get outside and pawed at his straw bedding as I attached a lead to his halter. “Easy, boy. I thought you’d be tired after all the excitement yesterday.” Duncan snorted as he followed me around the barn to where Miles was waiting with Aggie. I was relieved to see that she didn’t look any worse for wear after her harrowing romp in the middle of the stampede.

It didn’t take long to get the horses saddled. We led them outside, tied them to the fence, and waited for everyone else to arrive. Once the whole crew was assembled, Dad gave everyone their marching orders. It was no surprise that we would be with him for the remaining duration of the roundup.

The cattle were separated into groups: steers in one, cows with calves in another, and the rest in a third group. Over the next two days, most of the steers were loaded onto transport trailers Dad had hired and sent to the auction. Carson and Nole went with them to oversee the business end of things on Dad’s behalf.

All of the unbranded cattle were grouped together, and, in an assembly-line-like manner, we guided them one by one into the chute, where they were seared with the ranch’s scrolling double R’s onto their virgin hides. Nothing is more pungent than the smell of burnt cowhide.

It was a tired crew that gathered for a final meal on Sunday. While Dad and the rest of the hands got the remaining cattle settled in the nearby pastures, Mrs. P, Meg, Miles, and I worked all day putting together a feast fit for a royal shindig. My fingers were tired from chopping vegetables by the time Dad finally gave his annual speech. He thanked the extra hands for their help, let everyone know that, thanks to beef prices at an all-time high, there would be a nice bonus in everyone's paychecks, and then handed each man an envelope.

I was surprised when he gave me one. I wasn’t on the payroll like everyone else. Just an allowance and a pat on the back for a job well done. My chest swelled as I looked at the envelope. “Thanks, Dad.”

He ruffled my hair, saying, “You earned it.”

After dinner was cleaned up, the extra help headed to the bunkhouse to pack up their things. Most were traveling south to find work on the large ranches in Texas. All but two lived a nomadic life, traveling from spread to spread, often returning to the same ranches year after year—the two who didn’t have families to support. They were also brothers who forfeited the chance to see their families for six months. They worked the fall roundups for two months, then made their way to Alaska, where they spent four months on the brutal Bering Sea fishing for Alaskan King crab. In a good year, they would earn more than the average American earns in two full years.

Miles and I were about to go upstairs when Dad stopped us. “Boys, will you come to my office, please?”

I heard Miles' sharp intake of air. “Sure, Dad.” I slipped my hand into Miles’ as we followed him down the hall.

“Shut the door,” Dad instructed as he sat at his desk.

Uh-oh. This must be serious. Dad rarely closed his office door. We sat, and Miles’ leg bounced nervously. I couldn’t help cracking my knuckles absentmindedly.

Dad noticed and immediately said, “Boys, stop worrying. I have some good news. I spoke to the sheriff, and he was able to find out that your uncle’s death was ruled an accident.”

Miles sagged, his shoulders relaxing. I squeezed his hand.

“However,” Dad continued. “The authorities in Ohio have been searching for you. As most of your stuff was left behind, they couldn’t rule out foul play. They were afraid something had happened to you, too. We assured them that you are alive and well.”

“That’s good? Right?” Miles asked.

Dad nodded. “Yes, but there’s also the matter of you stealing Morgan Porter’s identity. The police in Ohio have spoken with the Porters, and they do not want to press charges. Mrs. Porter was shocked and upset, but I’m under the impression that it’s your friend, Kyle, who will be paying the price.”

Miles looked at the floor. “Damn. I don’t want Kyle to get in trouble. He was only trying to help.”

“Be that as it may, actions have consequences. Part of those consequences will be you and me going to Ohio to take care of some legal matters.”

Miles’ head jerked up, his eyes went wide as he looked from me to Dad. “What sort of legal matters?”

Dad sighed. “Several. Least of all, being that you are still a minor and currently have no legal guardian. There’s also the matter of your uncle’s estate and the trust your grandparents left for you.”

“Oh shit!” I exclaimed. “Miles won’t have to stay in Ohio and go into foster care, will he?” The thought of losing him made me nauseous.

“That’s one of the things we need to address. I don’t know what your options will be, Miles,” Dad said.

My heart started beating triple-time. “Dad! He can’t stay there. Can’t you volunteer to be his guardian or something?”

“Slow your roll there, boy,” Dad commanded. “I said I don’t know what his options are. We’re not related, and I know jack shit about Ohio family law. There’s no sense in panicking. Besides, don’t you think Miles should have some say in where he’ll be placed?”

“I don’t want to leave here, sir,” Miles interjected.

I didn’t miss the quick upturn of the corner of Dad’s mouth. In that instant, I knew Miles had grown on him too.

“We don’t want you to go either. Unfortunately, it’s not my decision, but I’ll do whatever I can to see if they’ll allow me to be your guardian. I’ve contacted a family law attorney in Ohio who specializes in guardianships. Let’s see what he has to say before jumping the gun.”

Miles sniffed. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”

Dad nodded. “The crew has a fire pit going. Troy, I’ll let you skip one more day, then it’s back to school.”

“What about Miles?”

“I’m making some more calls tomorrow. Miles and I will probably need to fly to Ohio soon. There’s no sense in enrolling him until we know if he’ll be allowed to live here.”

My shoulders sagged. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it.”

Miles stood and pulled me up. “It’s going to be okay. I don’t relish the thought of playing catch-up in school, but I have faith in your dad.”

“Okay. Let’s go raid the kitchen. I know Mrs. P has stuff to make s’mores.”

Dad shooed us out of the office, and sure enough, we found several bags of puffy marshmallows, plenty of chocolate bars, and a few boxes of graham crackers. The guys around the fire pit were happy when they saw us coming with our arms laden with our treasure haul.

A few of the men drank, but Nole and Pete kept an eye on them. Dad didn’t mind the alcohol consumption, but he drew the line at anyone being shitface drunk.

Miles and I were able to shove our worries aside as we listened to the tall tales the temporary crew told. There was always at least one story that fell into the unbelievable category, and it was fun calling out the cowboy who told it.

It was well after midnight when we finally fell into bed. I was grateful to be able to turn off my alarm. I was even more grateful to be woken up with Miles’ hand slowly stroking my dick. I returned the favor with only a modicum of guilt. I rationalized it by telling myself that Dad didn’t care if I masturbated, and this was basically the same thing, just a different hand, kinda like using your left hand when you’re right-handed.

It was after nine o’clock before we showed up for breakfast. Mrs. P was in the kitchen prepping stuff for dinner. She turned to us and said, “Good morning, boys. You’re on your own for breakfast. I saved a few donuts for you. Your father said when you’re done, you can meet Carson in the barn. He’s got a surprise for you.”

I spied the plate with two Boston cream donuts, two sour cream donuts, and two glazed donuts. I walked over to her and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. P, you’re the best.” She smiled and shooed us toward the table.

Miles grabbed some cereal from the pantry while I got a couple of bowls and spoons, then got the milk from the fridge. We saved the donuts for last. There’s nothing better than washing down all that sugary goodness with a glass of cold milk.

After cleaning our mess, we said goodbye to Mrs. P and headed to the barn. I didn’t see Carson anywhere on the mares’ side, nor was he with the stallions. Duncan whinnied loudly when he heard me call out for Carson.

“Over here, boys. Last stall.”

That was odd. I knew the last stall was empty. We used it to store extra bags of feed.

The stall door was open, and Carson was sitting on a hay bale holding something in a towel in his hands.

“Oh my god! Is that a puppy?” I cried.

Carson shushed me. “Yep. Come here. There’s five more. Zoey had her pups this morning. I’m not sure if she’s done.”

Miles and I tiptoed over and peered past Carson to where Zoey, one of our best cattle dogs, was busy licking and feeding five little squirming pups. Every so often, she would stop licking and pant. It was a good sign that she might have more in there. Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, we watched her push out another pup.

“Miles, grab a towel,” Carson instructed as he took the pup and gave it to Miles. “Rub it good. Don’t be afraid to be a little rough. It’ll help get any fluid out of its lungs.”

I watched as Miles did as he was told. He was rewarded with the cutest little squeaking sounds, and the pup wriggled in his hands. The look on his face was pure joy.

Once the little guy, because yes, we checked, was dry, Miles gently placed him next to his mom so he could feed. He latched on right away and sucked for all he was worth. Next to the others, he looked tiny. I was sure he would turn out to be the runt of the litter.

By lunchtime, we were sure Zoey was done. We helped Carson clean up the stall and left the new mom with some food and water. Carson turned on the overhead heat lamp to keep the area extra warm.

“Wow,” Miles exclaimed. “They are so damn cute! I love that little dude. He’s a feisty one.”

“I hope so,” replied Carson. “He’s going to have his work cut out for him. We’ll need to keep an eye on him. With a litter this size, the bigger pups tend to push the runt aside, and they don’t get enough milk to thrive. Zoey’s a good mom. It’s not her first litter, but instinctively, she may let it happen.”

“Oh no. What can we do?”

I smiled at his enthusiasm. Dad took a different approach to breeding dogs. They weren’t our bread and butter, therefore, he limited the number of litters. We spayed and neutered all but one male and one female at a time. Dad allowed a bitch to have four or five litters before having her spayed and enabling another female to carry the litters. It expanded the gene pool and prevented inbreeding. Because our dogs were so well-bred, he had a long waitlist for pups. All seven in this litter would be quickly adopted once weaned.

Carson gave Zoey one more look and said, “Well, if you want to take responsibility for him, you can check in on him frequently. If it looks like he’s being rejected, you’ll have to bottle-feed him.”

Miles bit his bottom lip. “What happens if I don’t come back?”

“I’ll watch over him for you until you come home.” I volunteered.

Miles’ eyes widened at hearing the word home. His lips pressed together, and he nodded.

“There’s nothing I want more than to come home to all of this.”