They died a few years ago, and I had to sell the ranch to pay off old debts. The music was all I had left of them, along with the fun memories of growing up. I’d had the best time being a cowboy. I loved the land, the smells, and the hard work.
I still missed it, though it wasn’t really thatbad working as an assistant manager at the Ranch and Feed over on Myrtle. Being around the stuff in the store was a little like nostalgia for me. It kept the pain at bay.
I used the money left over from the sale to buy this duplex and advertised for a tenant as a way to keep costs down. Damien was the fourth tenant I’d had in ten years, and the most reliable. Aside from his nails-on-a-chalkboard love of loud music, he was pleasant, courteous, and paid the rent on time. He was also sexy as all get out. And younger than me by nine years. What would a hot, young, twenty-five-year-old want with a washed up, retired cowboy, anyway? I should be put out to pasture.