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[kickinxpdxst]

city-slicker-to-dust-kicker​:

❝ Sold most of my stuff. Canceled schooling and paid for bus rides out. What’s left is in my bag. ❞ Nonchalant shrug. Boards creak with steps. Takes in the surprise. Fingertips scritch both hounds behind the ears. Rickety door, screened porch. Classic midwestern feel.

Inside took his breath. Blues travel the woodwork, decor and furniture. Shuffle under shoes. Coarse rug with pattern. Keeping step was easy. Nodding along as his soon-to-be employer explained. Other hands? There were others? Big ranch, big need for help.

Hallways a maze. Mentally locking the locations away for future reference. Bedrooms, bath, kitchen. Padding over threshold, shoulders lessen tense air. Bare-bones except for bed, desk, and nightstand. Stomach interrupts, and embarrassed flush rises. Freckles show, dotting nose and cheeks like tiny constellations. Hand rubs back of neck. ❝ Yeah, I got it. Thanks. Uh, sorry. About that. Gas stops don’t offer five-star meals. What time is dinner, if I can ask? ❞

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❝ Musta really wanted a change of scenery then, huh? ❞

Body shifting to lean against the doorframe, Lucifer watch Gabriel take in the room, though granted there wasn’t much there. Just the essentials to start, then he could personalize later on if he wanted to. It did seem whatever nervousness he had when arrived had finally began to dissipate, which was a good thing. Meant he was getting comfortable.

❝ Dinner isn’t until seven, but I’m sure I got somethin’ you can have to tide ya over till then. Meet me in the kitchen once ya get settled.❞ Giving him a nod, Lucifer pushed himself from the frame and made his way towards the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten himself since breakfast that morning so if anything he could whip up something for the two of them.

Humming softly to himself, the blond opened the fridge, taking a look inside, icy blues landing on the barbeque he’d made the night before. Pulling out the plate, he removed the wrapping that kept it from getting to tough to eat and popped it in the microwave to heat it up before leaning back against the counter, eyes watching the hallway.

@city-slicker-to-dust-kicker

[kickinxpdxst]

@city-slicker-to-dust-kicker

Posture straightens as gaze passes over. Seeming less disorganized at first impression. Granted, sold most and moved halfway across the country. No gifted goodbye. Heart heavy but determined. ❝ Complained the whole way up. Seemed pretty nice, all things considering. ❞

Hinges squeal. Gate swings. Demonstration plus an offered first rule. Simple nod of acknowledgement, stepping in. Kept up friendliness, which was an anxiety-lessener. Double footsteps, crunch of dry earth and grasses underneath. Following towards quaint farmhouse.

Attention’s drawn to loud noises, gaze breaking to cast over the property. Fencing, wide acres as promised. Great, uncluttered skyline. Nothing like home. Would he be able to see the stars? Night sky untainted by light pollution, finally?

Question pulling him back. Quick blink. Inwardly cringes. ❝ Uh, not really. New Yorker, born and raised. Father’s a lawyer and mother’s a hairdresser. Siblings big in the entertainment industry. ❞

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❝ Came all the way here from New York? That’s a long way to travel for work, not that I’m complaining. I’ve been needing another hand for a while now. ❞ Surprise was clear on the blond’s face as he brought them both onto the porch. Beau and Jaxon, now that they were calm, sniffed at Gabriel as he walked past, tails wagging. They loved making new friends.

❝ Most hired help stay here in the ranch house. Lord knows I got the rooms for ‘em. But it’ll just be you for now. My other hands have places in town so they’ll show up early in the morning for work. ❞ Inside the house was much bigger than the outside let on, hardwood floors and maple paneled walls made up the first floor. Heading down the hall to the left, Lucifer turned back to look at him.  ❝ Your room is this way. Figured you’d wanna get settled in before I showed ya around. ❞ They passed a couple doors before Lucifer opened the third door, leading the two of them inside.

❝ Feel free to decorate how ya want. Bathroom is two more doors down on the left and the kitchen is just off from the front door to the right. ❞

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[kickinxpdxst]

city-slicker-to-dust-kicker​:

Afternoon sun turned the world a hazy sepia. Rich oranges and golds shine bright. Sluggish feeling to the air, lazy hours ahead. Trudging through dust was the least concern. Bus had dropped him a good ten miles off. Coated in brown powder. Shady Acres? Funeral home back in northern state. Shale Bakers? Crepe bakery and pastry shop.

Fingers fiddle with faded newspaper. Ink-stains abound. Barely legible except for initials. Shaded Acres. Rancher looking for a hired hand. Family disapproved, of course. Miles from flash and pomp of New York. Small-town Texas with rolling grassland.

Blues squint towards the horizon. Duffel bag slung over shoulder. Distant yowling signalled dogs. Overly friendly little beasts. Met with a taller gentleman. Plaid and jeans with stetson atop sandy locks. Watches the exchange between pets and master. Knew their place.

Awkward throat-clearing. Shuffle of converse in gravel. Fringe hangs low in face. Blues curious. Snapped out of stare. Wipes sweaty palm before offering. ❝ Right. Yeah, right. Damn, I’m - sorry, not good with new people. Gabriel Henry Bilks. Though most call me Gabe. Or, uh, Gabriel. ❞

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Icy blues wandered over the other, taking in the thin layer of dust that covered him. Seemed the bus dropped him off a good ways before the ranch, the driver having a bad habit of doing that. Another reason most likely being the driver had a dislike for his dogs, since they’d managed to actually get on the bus last time a hired hand was dropped off at the gate. Hadn’t seen much of him after that.

❝ Can’t say I blame ya. Why I like my ranch bein’ away from town. ❞ Lucifer takes note of the offered hand before taking it in his own, giving a firm shake before releasing it.  ❝ Lucifer Nicholas Abernathy. Folks ‘round these parts call me Luce. ❞

Unlocking the main gate, Lucifer opened it and motioned for Gabriel to step inside, closing it firmly behind him.  ❝ First rule of the ranch, ya open this gate ya gotta make sure it’s closed. Lost track of how many times I’ve had to chase those two mutts down ‘cause it was left open. ❞ His words were friendly, motioning for the brunet to follow as he made his way towards the house.  ❝ You ever been to a ranch before? You got the lookin’s of a city slicker all over ya. ❞

[kickinxpdxst]

@city-slicker-to-dust-kicker plotted starter~

Morning came and went steadily at the Shaded Acres ranch, which was about normal. Early mornings filled with the usual chores of feeding the horses before putting them out to pasture, then checking on the cattle. It was hard work, but paid the bills and kept the ranch afloat, even through the various recessions, something Luce considered himself lucky for. Over the few years he’d taken over the ranch, the sandy blonde had seen many others fall due to inadequate funds and the like.

Today, however, things were going to run different he had a feeling. After putting an ad out in the paper about needing a new ranch hand, it wasn’t long until he’d heard a response. They were supposed to be arriving that afternoon, and by checking the sun, Lucifer figured it was getting close to time. This was further confirmed when the dogs started going off, making a beeline for the front gate.

Making sure the barn door was locked, the blond made his way to the front gate, giving a shrill whistle to his two dogs.  ❝ Beau! Jaxon! Get on back up to the house! ❞ he called out. Both dogs stopped barking, turning back to look at Lucifer before making a beeline for the front porch.  ❝ Sorry ‘bout them. They like to make themselves known to strangers. I reckon you must be Gabriel Bilks? ❞

[kickinxpdxst]

I can plow a field all day long I can catch catfish from dusk 'til dawn (Yeah) We make our own whiskey and our own smoke too Ain't too many things these old boys can't do

We grow good-ole tomatoes and homemade wine And a country boy can survive Country folks can survive

Because you can't starve us out and you can't make us run 'Cause we're them old boys raised on shotguns We say grace, and we say ma'am If you ain't into that, we don't give a damn