PULHMAN’S BEST BOSS.

[memosilvar]

« — Guillermo “Memo” Silva Rodriquez is a forty six year old ( born October 2nd ) from Concón, Chile. He currently lives on family land in the Ranchlands of Roswell, New Mexico and is the Boss & Owner at Puhlman’s Ranch. When he isn’t hard at work, he’s causing havoc on the farm or out getting tossed around at rodeos that’ll make him limp for weeks. Guillermo is bisexual and goes by he/him pronouns. He also has a big heart for pot belly pigs and his Shire Horse, Gusanito (little worm) !! »

biography. connections. pinterest.

current/active open starter: unavailable

[meilanibrudenell]

“Like peach blossoms?” The words are delivered with a smile, not her best attempt at banter but far from her worse either. The aforementioned flowers were beautiful but while they were the beginning of what may eventually turn into a peach, the color was a vibrant pink rather than the shades of coral seen on the fruit, perhaps not what was meant for Guillermo’s household but Meilani had learned enough that she felt she could make something of the sort work. “One order of happiness coming right up.”

Once he’s back outside the cooler, she allows the door to fall shut, drifting around the store with familiarity and collecting an array of flowers into newspaper. “It sounds like the horses are conning you into spoiling them.” Though it was a con she would just as soon fall for, dark eyes lifting hesitatingly towards him as she settles her items onto the counter. “Maybe I could start bringing some by?” A treat as much for her as it was for the horses.

[memosilvar]

If he wasn't constantly working, then maybe his scented peach soaps would last longer. At least in their sweetness level. With such a complicated aroma, both from its flowers and fruit form, the nuttiness of almond seemed to be the the only thing that lingered. Only ever so faintly, of course. The rest of his smell seemed to stay consistent with dirt, and dust, with the fine finish of leather and wood. Along with the inevitable hint of sweat that is only bearable due to how much deodorant he layers on. And you can't forget about the days he does smell like flowers, which can only be thanked by days such as today.

“Someones gotta spoil them… Or else they’ll get jealous and give the cows a hard time.” He shrugs, eyes dancing across some petals. “They’ll also give me a hard time and start actin’ like a bunch of angry ranchers.” While he can handle the occasional sass from the other livestock, the horses were at another level for him. Even his favorite horse, — not like he’d tell the others that — Gusanito was difficult for him to handle without some bribes. You can also imagine how the creature's sheer size creates a whole other problem. “They’d appreciate it. Gives ‘em another person to trouble.”

[exgr4tia]

striker knew that men like himself weren’t built for fairytales . they weren’t built for picket fences , or mailboxes with family names , or little pitter-pattering feet down hallways . men like him were born tough , and it took a special woman to wear down a concrete exterior to reach the gooey stuff beneath . as cowboys went , striker was one of the sweeter ones — he cried at cartoons and would rather spend his evening out with the cows than causing trouble — and yet even that hadn’t been enough to make her stay .

“ i mean , i don’t know if you could count it … you remember the time a few weeks ago i could barely stay standin’ at work ?? first time you ever considered sending me home in all these years , ” he had cradled his ribs , hissing and whining with every bend , and yet he had pushed through toward his shift end , never one for failure . “ well , the night before i was at hers . i got drunk an’ stupid and hurt myself messin’ with bulls . she helped me out , cleaned me up — now , i ain’t sayin’ there was no poison — ” it had been inevitable that some choice words were shared , “ — but the way she looked at me … ” he coughed to clear a lump in his throat . “ i don’t know , man . i may be dumber than i look , but i ain’t sure she’s tellin’ the truth when she says she ain’t in love with me . ”

[memosilvar]

“People are scared.” His forearms ease, being released from the heavy tension from his palms. “So they say things, sometimes those things are harsh. But, it's a way of protectin’ their heart from the pain... Guess it all depends on just how stubborn you are to see how long it’ll take, ” The car rolls, letting the rough terrain grow heavy under them. “for them to let you in.” Whether it be from some memory he unlocked from his childhood or something from just a couple of months ago, Guillermo found himself slightly smiling in thought.

“Not like that’ll be much of a challenge for you,” The truck turns, following the shift of its wheels. “you are as stubborn as a bull.” With a couple of swift twists and tugs, the car quiets and the keys rest in a palm. The metal slightly chimed with movement. “Somethin’ that she probably knows well.” While Guillermo isn’t one to be seen with strangers or townies (willingly) sprawled over his arms, he's happy when it happens to others. Especially when it's one person that the other has mutual feelings for. “And you got a big heart. Makes it harder to stop from lovin’ someone.”

[lyranelson]

“Striker knows a lot, you know?” It’s an insistence delivered with the utmost confidence, unaware that the man before her was quite possibly the last person she had to defend the other towards. “I think he knows more than even he knows, you know? Things they could never teach.” What she meant and who they were was up for debate even if a faltering portion of her mind was sure of the implications, of the knowledge and lessons life had taught people such as themselves. “I know! Have you heard their chatters? It’s the sweetest sound. And their cute little hands.” Her own lift before her face, fingers stained red from the cold curling together mere centimeters from her eyes, as if it was somehow an accurate description or imagery for the thing to which she was referring.

A rational mind would have long since determined that the male tending to the property, welcoming her inside the home, was the owner of the very space on which she had been trespassing — unfortunately, Lyra’s mind doesn’t operate on rational at the best of times and now certainly isn’t the best of times. Her daze and glee shift in an instant, tension hardening her features and panic setting in her eyes, a child who’s secret had just been found out and was left staring down the barrel of punishment. “Mad?” It’s as if the word is the only one that’s stuck in her mind, a different kind of gloss highlighting her pale orbs as she looks to him. “Are you going to call the cops?”

[memosilvar]

“He is smarter than he gives ‘emself credit for.” Guillermo smiles, practically glowing from the further mention of his right hand. “‘Ust doesn't show it often 'cause it isn't the way he is... But there's always somethin’ turning in his can.” They may give each other difficulty from time to time, just to poke fun, but he knows how caring they are for one another. They also bring out the best in each other, even if that means when they’re together there's most likely some trouble brewing.

“Got no business calling them. ” He returns the canister of coco powder to its cabinet. “All they do is cause me trouble.” The farmer turns around, letting his tailbone contact the marble counter. His arms soon folding over his broad chest, where his wrists twist and shimmy to their comfort. “As long as you didn't mess with the animals, then we don't have a problem... And don't lie— they will snitch on you.” Whether she chose to speak the whole truth, some, or none of it at all, Guillermo trusted his gut (and security cameras) to give him the reality. Yet, being the man he is and the just way he is, he feels that it's necessary to question, then trust the gut, and follow through with facts. He also felt obligated this time to give the others a chance as they were a ‘kid’, who still seemed completely out of it.

[exgr4tia]

perhaps that was what everyone needed in life , just that one person where words spoken would be received with warmth over judgement . throughout striker’s life he had been greeted with judgemental stares , with venom-tongues simply for how he looked or how he spoke . to an extent he understood — what upstanding member of the public would choose to converse with a whiskey-drinking , manure-stinking ranch hand who seemed allergic to pronouncing his ‘g’s ?? sometimes it was easier for him to lock himself away in a barn , in the farmhouse , and speak to those that understood him — the cows , the chickens and , most of all , guillermo .

“ no , sir . i ain’t the fightin’ type , “ spoke striker , and for the most part it was true . at the very least , the fights he found himself caught up in were never his intention , more the fallout of an ill-recieved joke or one too many whiskeys . they were becoming commonplace now — the sadder he became the more he drank , and the more he drank the rowdier he became . thoes dark eyes , downcast , spoke silently of his melancholy . there was no way guillermo hadn’t noticed , and a light chuckle followed his boss’ seeming concern at the sheer inevitability of his response . “ nothin’ worth mentionin’ , boss . “ he mumbled , picking at the fraying denim at the worn knee of his jeans , “ an’ i wouldn’t say it was plenty excitin’ neither . more like depressin . “ and yet , in the safety of the truck , he felt safe to spill .

“ i dunno if i ever mentioned my girl . or my ex-girl . i dunno what we was , “ his eyes flicked up to his boss’ before falling back to his antsy , twitching fingers , “ she’s back in roswell’n actin’ like she ain’t never seen me before . i can promise you , boss , she seen me from angles nobody should’a seen me . she’s one hell of a liar , “ lips flattened into a line as he forced down any flicker of emotion . “ she got my heart all caught up i got no damn energy to hunt racoons no more . an’ for the record they ain’t like cows one bit — cows are smart like big dogs , they can do tricks ‘n all !! “

He brushes his beard, feeling the roughness of his palm against his face. Guillermo had only a handful of relationships and he was certainly not a one-night-stand type of man, nonetheless a kiss and tell. But he had enough experience to understand how Striker was feeling. The vulnerability of dim lightning, light touches, and whispers to someone you have may fawn over for some time. Then the desperation after separation, no matter the reason for it. After all, it ain't every day you let your walls down for someone. Even he doesn't share everything with his friends.

“I may be old but I ain't blind.” He sighs, looking at the worn-down road ahead of them. “She got you all hopeless.” When he was young, the feeling of love was overwhelming to the boss. The thought of having a partner practically sent him into a stumbling frenzy like he had two left feet or a bunch of logs were being rolled at his feet. “That’s what it does to you...” Like a sudden gust, he takes a deep breath. “When’s the last time you two talked?— like an actual conversation. Not all the fighting and poison.” While he doesn't share a common relationship as Striker does with Tiziri, he understood how tricky — the interactions can be.

[meilanibrudenell]

Whether his intention or not, his words are successful in pulling a rare and gentle laughter from Meilani’s lips, features alight in a way they had never been in the years before her move to Roswell. “I think it’s her that you have to worry about when it comes to trouble.” Her grandmother has always been anything but dangerous, albeit in the traditional sense of the world, danger more in the form that she wouldn’t let you leave her home until she was assured you had a full stomach and a content heart.

It’s only after he’s stepped safely inside that she follows, easing the door shut behind them and slipping past him with perhaps too much finesse, moving to instead open the cooler door. “I’m afraid I don’t have the talent she does when it comes to floriculture. I’m really only good at keeping things around here tidy.” After all, before meeting her grandmother, Meilani’s knowledge of flowers had been minimal even if she had enjoyed keeping them around. It was only through the older woman’s training and her own perfectionist tendencies that she’d managed to tend to things in the shop as well as she did. “I think I may get fired if I charged you, señor Silva Rodriquez.” Words that are clearly false but making the implication that neither her nor her grandmother would want him paying clear. “Did you have something in mind?”

[memosilvar]

“Anythin’... vibrant, like ripe peaches. ” He smiles, feeling a buzz blossom across his chest at the mention of the fruit. “They’d be great for the house. And my mood, heavens knows I can always be happier.” The arms entangle across the broad chest, a heavy exhale coming from the nostrils that were tickled with greying hair. It was a partial lie, albeit it shouldn't be something for the companion to dwell much. Guillermo is just an old man with a big heart.

“Probably some marigolds too... The horses like ‘em in the field but seem to enjoy it more when we buy em...” He chuckles, a small grimace twitching at the corner of his lips from a harsh memory of a horse shoving him to his behind because he was in the way of some flowers. Definitely not a nice feeling and the rancher was left laying for some time. A mix of embarrassment and old joints getting the best of him.

[tizirisadaoui]

Family. It’s all it takes to make her feel instantaneously sick, like something toxic has entered into her system and is causing her entire body to twist in on itself, as if she’ll somehow sink into the black hole of her own heart and disappear entirely. There were days she wished she would. “Stop.” It wasn’t a shout but it may as well have been, the disgust in her voice like that of a parent who refused to hear anymore excuses from their child. “I’m not your fucking family or your mija or whatever other bullshit, alright? Whatever big brother, fatherly role you feel the need to play because you don’t have anyone else, you need to do it somewhere else.” The cruelty slips from her as casually as if she’s reciting the evening news, settled comfortably on her couch, seeming entirely unfazed outside of her annoyance. “I’m not okay, Guillermo. I’ve never been fucking okay and you’re not gonna fix that.”

Fun is a word she hadn’t associated with her life almost for as long as she hadn’t associated the word family, her last memories of feeling anything of the sort long lost to time and space that she had caused, muddled by the various poisons she’d allowed to infiltrate her body and mind. “I’ve been alone since I was a child.” A fault belonging to no one outside of herself. There may have been more times than not that someone had been at her side; publicists, managers, stylists, interviewers, flings — it didn’t change how alone she was and had been. Tiziri hadn’t just allowed the walls around her to build upwards but to sink into the ground like tree roots, assuring no one could find a way over or under, that no one could find her. “Just because you can’t handle it, doesn’t mean I can’t.”

He kept quiet, any ounce of happiness falling from his rough edges and being replaced by this— shame... Everyone had always told him that his heart would be the cause for half, if not all, of his downfalls. That all the things that made people he loved angry (at him) would be his fault for not noticing. It’d be his own fault because of his unhealed heart.

“Your right, I’m sorry.” He simply states, swallowing the lump of emotions. His behavior toward others, especially ones who he later saw as his children, was never because of his own family. After all, he's the only child, sure he's successful but it never seemed like enough. And that belief as a child was one of many reasons why he wanted to have a family of his own... And why he wanted to apologize to the one he couldn't have one with. The love of his life, back in Chile, had been the only person he dreamed of having children with. She was the only person he saw himself loving and after—after everything, she would continue being the only person who had his unsaid vows.

“I wasn't there when you needed someone the most, and IM sorry. But I can't change what happened in the past and neither can you.” Perhaps he was a bit condescending. Perhaps he was coming off rude or aggressive. Even if he was, how was he to understand or hear it when he's barely able to talk, nonetheless see to witness the reactions to his words? So instead of trying to offer another apology, he gives a shrug that trembled his entire body. A shrug that brought the tears closer to shine under the dull lighting. “So sooner or later, ki—,” he shakes his head. “Sooner or later, Tiziri. You’re going to have to accept that some people aren’t just here to ruin your life. Some really do want the best for you... I want the best for you... I always have.” He isn't her father, and he may never be. But no matter what, no matter how much she yells and pushes him away, Guillermo will forever love her like his own.

[lyranelson]

Despite the discomfort it seems the topic brings for the male before her, his statement only causes her own lips to curl upwards, beaming brightly despite her haphazard state. “You think I’m a scary lady?” It was certainly a title no one had placed on her before and likely for good reason. Alarming or strange, without a doubt, but the girl was certainly not scary or capable of being such.

In an act her sober mind would scold her for, she’s following his guidance without question, into the warmth of the home that’s perhaps just as much of an image of chaos and concern as she is in that moment. It’s not a scene likely to draw judgement from her, however, the contents of her own home a hodgepodge that was telling of an owner much the same. Her eyes are so busy attempting to absorb it all that she hardly notices he’s moved her to sit on the couch, bright orbs darting about the space as if she’s being tested, as if in a few short moments he’ll ask her to close her eyes and draw the room from memory.

“Striker is a very wise man.” A questionable statement that even she would recognize as such, but Lyra firmly believed there was more than one way of being smart and Striker had knowledge that she likely never would, that many never would. “Except when it comes to raccoons. He doesn’t understand them.” As if there’s some secret just beyond his grasp that keeps from diminishing his frustrations with the creatures. “Cocoa.” She interjects quickly, eyes flashing to him for the first time since she’d entered the home, though something within the gaze makes it clear she’s still a step away from reality.

He didn’t seem to verbally respond to the inquiry, but he did offer a side glance of— ‘kinda.’ After all, even with the kids causing a ruckus after a night's party, most of them don’t walk out lookin’ pale and distressed. Practically made him jump if he wasn't so quick on his feet. The will of protecting (his family/farm) himself like a veil of constant magic.

“Wise is definitely— a word. ” The man laughs to himself as he walks off, quickly nesting himself in the kitchen with how quickly he got around the cabinets and drawers. “I tell him all the time, those bandits are as cute as a button!” He fills up the red kettle before placing it on the gas stove. “He still don’t like ‘em around. Can’t give ‘em too much about it though, none of my business really.” Guillermo pokes fun at the distaste, nothing more. He knows the critters cause trouble which is why Striker has such a vendetta against them. I mean, if he had to deal with that around the farm, he probably wouldn't be the happy star he is today.

“Mind tellin’ me what you were doin’ on my property?” Guillermo shifts a cat mug, rubbing at a chipped piece. “Not like I’m mad— I mean, I hope I don’t have no reason to be mad.” There are different shifts and he tends to miss the dusk shift. Whether it be by the youngsters wanting to take care of the old man's health or something else, he’s never constant with it. So he truly never has constant knowledge of what's going on about these parts when the moon rises. “Do I have a reason to be mad??” He mumbles, mostly to himself, as he begins to prep the cocoa powder and his special additions.

[exgr4tia]

with uncharacteristic obedience striker found himself in the vehicle , head of peppered hair rested against the window , dark-ringed eyes gazing at the sleepy farmstead now they were setting up to leave . roswell had been his home for a decade , and yet the last few weeks had forced striker to slip from the usual comfort that the alien town brought him . everything had been disrupted by tiziri , the cropped-haired woman who had his heart in the palm of her hands and , each day , squeezed just a little tighter . was his failing ( read : nonexistent )love life something that could be discussed with his boss , the one that was responsible for half-filling his pockets ?? for once in his life , striker cannon was quiet . 

“ bar . “ the word left his lips before he was conscious of the motion . a slight smile perked at his lips , although anybody that knew him would effortlessly read that the gesture was without humour , without optimism … perhaps getting torn up by barbed wire was his own version of stress relief , a physical manifestation of the mental turmoil leaking from his brain to poison the rest of his body . “ if you ain’t carryin’ me home by the end of the night you ain’t done your job right . i got a whole lot to forget , ” and god , he wished he could .

[memosilvar]

It would be a lie if Guillermo told anyone that he didn't understand Striker, especially in the moments of lingering silence. A mere skill that could easily be blamable for their near decade of friendship or the heart of gold that Guillermo wears every day. —Along with the inclusion of the boss also understanding the pain of detaching from someone. His reasoning for separation is a bit different, but still gives him enough insight for situations as such.

“ Roger that. ” He pops up the visor, letting his sight feast over the full vision of the front. The truck roaring to life the following second, letting the farmers know it was ready to get going. “ As long as you aren't causin’ fights or jumpin’ into places you shouldn't be, then sure, I’ll carry you home. ” He rolls his eyes, smiling as the wheel moves beneath his palm with a turn off the desert and into the road. As much as Guillermo visits The Wild Pony, he still has his times when he tends to steer clear of it— forcing Striker to take a break from the bar as well. Whether it be him preferring not to have his friend get drunk out of his mind or to chill at the farm instead all depends on his own mood. But he also isn't one to ‘control’ others unless it's really necessary.

“ Anything excitin’ out of the farm? ” The small talk ignites with the flick of the radio. Pulhman’s and Roswell weren't far when you drove like Striker but, with the way Guillermo cruised, it's easy to get lost with the calmer — and safer — driver. “ Catch any of ‘em raccoons yet? Don’t know why you hate ‘em so much, they’re as cute as your cows. ”

[tizirisadaoui]

My favorite person. Tiziri knows well enough to know that the words are little more than a part of his charming nature but it doesn’t make the way her stomach twists any less notable and not just from guilt. He was leaps away from her father; a little too wild, attributes not quite dark enough, closer to her age than his own - though closer to the age she had lost him when they first met and it wasn’t the only thing about him that had reminded her of the man long since passed. It was no doubt why there tended to be an extra level of animosity, why she wanted to keep him at an arm’s length, as if accepting such or accepting his companionship would lead him to the same fate.

“You forget that I lived here, Guillermo.” She retorts, bare feet pulled and curled onto the cushion beside her, a blanket thrown over her legs as if such a simple act could hide the secrets she wished to. “I heard and still hear people talk about Puhlman’s as easily as I hear them talk about me.” Tiziri knew perhaps better than anyone that they were the best of people, a fact easily discovered if one bothered to look beneath the surface of the rough bunch, but the town didn’t always consist of people interested in doing such.

“What the hell is this, Guillermo? This whole beating around the bush bullshit you guys pull is…” Perhaps the best they can offer given the circumstances she’d granted them. It’s in no way his fault and yet there’s something disconcerting about him being here, the same as when Striker showed up — it was the same Roswell, as much Guillermo’s home as it was her own, if not more so since her departure and while she was sure she hadn’t changed, her surroundings had and seeing him in the midst of her clean living room felt off, reminding her how displaced she herself was. “You all know the story; I bailed, I got hurt and I returned like a dog with my tail between my legs. So why are you here?”

[memosilvar]

For a second, he felt puzzled. The words that were once easy to say becoming nonexistent. The confusion of a mere question being practically mindboggling. “ Your family... You're my family. That’s why I’m here, Tiziri. ” He frowns as shame drapes over him. “ I don't give a crap what happened or what you feel like everyone's gonna act, but I ain't changing the way I treat you ‘ust cause you left. ‘M ‘ust glad you’re back. That’s all. ” Perhaps he did have the totally wrong approach in this. I mean, a heads-up would've been nicer, right? It would’ve given her enough time to either tell him to authentically ‘fuck off’ or simply prepare herself. Guillermo can only now see he's made the mistake of being so forward. “ This place will always be a home for you. You can kick me out too if you don't want me here, mija. I just— wanted to make sure you were okay. ”

A shrug, weak and sheepish pulls at his muscles. It wasn't unknown to the man that his natural personality — “of beating around the bush” — can sometimes be seen as condescending. Like he was trying to do something, whatever that something may be. “... It’s not fun, feeling alone. ” Guillermo offers a feigned smile with the words. To be alone and to be lonely were two totally different things but, he's knows the two like the back of his hand. The mere thought of someone else, especially someone he cares about experiencing such, is yet another thing he can't bear.

[exgr4tia]

it was a fair request — striker’s driving was like a video game , as though even the shortest of trips to the store or the ranch involved weaving in and out of pedestrians and obstacles like a police chase . if guillermo wanted to remain with a full stomach it was best if he remained in the driver’s seat : striker was perpetually the right-hand man , the sidekick , and he hadn’t a problem with such an arrangement . so long as he was promised a beer , he wouldn’t have had a problem with much of anything . sauntering towards the vehicle the male grumbled in his throat , a punctuating eye-roll at the threat of medical attention .

“ you know i seen way worse ?? ” commented the ranch hand , gesturing towards guillermo like he had learned to when it came to his brothers — an outstretched , accusatory hand , whining ’ he did it ! ’ if his father caught them misbehaving . “ ‘sides , you ain’t lookin’ too hot yerself . i should be the one cartin’ you to roswell community med . ” for a man who was scared of nothing ( other than small , skittish animals — a close-guarded secret ) the oldest cannon sure hated the bleachy scent of hospitals . “ these scratches ain’t nothin’ a whisky can’t fix , but if it means you’ll be happy , boss , i’ll lick my wounds on the way . ”

[memosilvar]

He opens the pickup door, paying no mind to the way some old paint broke off. All the 65’ Mercury needed was another month and the rest of it's red would be gone and Guillermo can repaint. Probably gonna look at some paint splodges of green later to see what catches his muse. “ I’d rather you don’t. ” Guillermo grumbles, squinting at the thought of such imagery. He doesn't havr anything against animals when they clean themselves but that can't be the cleanest when a human does it. Especially on open wounds covered in dust. “ The vet will have to be the one to check you instead. ”

With a huff, he plops himself into the driver's seat to be embraced by the brown leather. With living in such a messy job, Guillermo’s belongings ( other than clothes ) have always been clean and pristine. The cab’s leather replaced every couple of years to be kept up to appearance and a couple photos that never leave the truck. The original prints of random times that he was able to get with friends and family covered his radio screen and stuck to the driver's sun visor, like a true pa. “ Bar or shop?? Either way ‘m paying. ”

[exgr4tia]

“ i been here long enough t’ ignore the damn signs . i got privileges , “ privileges that meant , more often than not , guillermo would turn a blind eye to striker’s late-comings , no longer requiring half-baked excuses to let his favorite ranch hand off the hook . even back when he did try and conjure up some reason why he turned up a few hours past clock-in time — there was a badger in the road , he put on the wrong pair of boots — they were never too believable ; it saved the two men time to take silence as gospel and move swiftly onto the work that needed to be done . although striker wasn’t always punctual , he was reliable — he may not turn up at the strike of the clock’s arm but he did all he needed to do , and he was damn good at it . there was never a complaint when it came to mucking out livestock or tending to lame foals . for once in his life , it seemed that the oldest cannon was finally being seen as the asset that he was . 

as his fingertips grew raw , as splinters ingrained themselves in the sides of his hands , striker was becoming more and more parched for the good stuff . they had made progress on the coop — more progress than they had made across the months of pondering where to start with the project — and so , after slinging a few more plants , he dusted off his hands and announced : “ it’s beer time , boss . i ain’t liftin’ another damn finger ‘til i get a long neck down me , “ most employers were shackled to two fifteen minute breaks per shift , but not guillermo . so long as striker got a can , bottle or glass , paired with a therapy session with one of the top cows , he could be kept sweet . “ these chicks could do with the fresh air anyhow . “ 

A ( overgrown ) child caught with his hand deep in the cookie jar, that's how Guillermo saw Striker, ever since they'd met. Most of the excuses — despite being often shut down with a ʼ are you done? ‘ look — had actually entertained him more than irritated. After all, what's the point of batterin’ someone who's at least came into work; gotta at least give him some credit. And It felt like a little game for the short while the tales lasted. Guillermo even uses some of the past excuses toward Striker now, just to poke some fun when he’s caught up in the busy life again.

“ Yeah yeah. ” He slightly tips his head side to side, stretching the tense muscles. “ You ain’t drivin’ though. I’d like to keep my lunch in my belly. No arugin’ about it either. ” He rubs at his stomach, remembering the leftovers of tamales he enjoyed this early afternoon. “ Kits in the glove box too so you can avoid gettin’ dirt in those scratches. I don't wanna hear all that complaining when I’m dragging you to the doctor. ” He pats at his jeans a bit, mumbling some nonsense as he ensures that he had his keys. He lost those things all the time.

Grabbing one of the heads of red, he twists it off the stem, smiling. “ Everythin’ is different when you drop by Pulhman’s. ” The farm, as run down as it may be, is Guillermo’s biggest paradise. Through all the ruckus, whether it's caused by hands or animals ( even the chickens ) to the – sometimes – extraordinary growth, it was worth waking up before the groggy sun.

“ Beer, probably, or a chance to get out of dealin’ with the rams. ” He shrugs, wiping off some of the specks of dirt. “ They can't really cut more than that though. Too scared to risk gettin’ cut from the field. ” Despite his family relationship with his employees, there's still that tension between the employee and boss connection. The unconscious mind constantly badgering them about the possibility of getting fired with one wrong move from the boss. But there hasn't been a let go since Guillermo had stepped up the ranks— which was a change compared to the prior owners.

[kinncman]

from ಠ_ಠ to ʘ‿ʘ real quick

[memosilvar]

@scarlettdanvcrs

— Guillermo only goes out to the saloons or shops when Scarlett asks him. He has a grumpy resting face but will be so happy to engage in outfit choices with his daughter. 🫶

[meilanibrudenell]

Guillermo had been around for as long as she had, scratch that, for longer than she had; to her grandmother, he was a familiar face that the stories made it seem she had always adored, to the father she had barely gotten to know, a trusted friend. Even if it seemed chaos was an interwoven part of the Puhlman Ranch and it’s staff, nothing Meilani had ever been told would lead her to believe they were anything but good men, as much made evident in the male’s willingness to step forward in the wake of her father’s illness and ultimate passing, transporting the large batches of flowers with an ease the women would never be able to manage.

“Be careful what promises you make, señor. A week with my kuia and you may never return to ranch life.” Be it because her grandmother’s home was that inviting or because the woman wouldn’t want him to leave was a debate only reality could put to rest. “No, no, no.” His concern is brushed off with a gentle laugh as she steps out of the doorway, holding the frame of the screen door open so that he can maneuver his way inside with more ease. It’s a display of consideration for her well being that she’s still not entirely used to — that she may never grow used to. “No te preocupes. I don’t think trouble makers tend to visit the flower shop.”

If he really could, he wouldn't mind spending a whole week at the flower paradise to learn about all the colorful petals. It’d be an amazing vacation spot! “ Oh, I know. Real dangerous she is. ” Sorta, as that little lady would keep him on his toes with the heavy lifting. It’s not like he’d mind much but all that bossin’ around makes him feel like a kid again. Practically makes his palms sweaty just thinking about it.

“ You’d be surprised. ” He shrugs, giving a ‘gracias (!)’ as he slips through the opened door. “ Your family’s green thumbs always impress me. ” He beams, eyes lighting up like stars at the loveliness of the remaining flowers decorating the nursery. Even if this is probably the hundredth time he's dropped by— the beauty of the nursery never ceases to amaze him. After all, he's never been one to successfully grow flowers. The only thing he's talented at when it comes to planting stuff is produce. But flowers have always been a struggle for Guillermo. “ Say, how much are the bouquets again?? ‘M thinkin’ about getting some. ”

[thewaythisis]

Another outtake from Anthony Batista

[exgr4tia]

“ beer is the damn title of this here list , ” striker responded , searching his arms for scratches like a cat licking his wounds . luckily the majority of the rooster’s attack that been merely skin-deep , injuries that didn’t warrant a second thought when it came to the male ; growing up he had experienced a lot worse , locked in the moonshine cupboard or left in the doghouse with no hope for medical attention . the three boys had to learn the hard way how to fix each other up using sewing needles , torn shirts and whatever scraps were left in neighbour’s trash cans . “ you gon’ be alright with those scratches or you need me t’ help fix you up ?? ” between his two brothers and his ex , if he could even call tiziri that , striker had learned to be quite a dab hand with a bottle of vodka and an old rag .

without second thought striker was taking himself off to the lumber pile to grab a few planks and an abandoned hammer , oblivious — or simply unfazed — to the droplets of blood at his forearms . with nails between his crooked teeth he swung the wood over to the coop , dropping to his knees , lining up one of the panels across an exposed side of the henhouse . nobody ever said he was much of a handyman , but the male always seemed to get the job done — better to be haphazard than leave the chickens to the mercy of foxes , wolves and coyotes . “ you gots t’ start puttin’ signs on those things , boss . can’t have the rookies takin’ our beers , we earned ‘em fair an’ square . ”

“ mm. It can wait. ” Using a rag — which is probably ten years older than him — he wipes away some loose sap of red. The sting of awareness nippin’ at his skin like a bunch of bites from broody snakes. While Guillermo doesn't have the highest, and perhaps an even more sensitive pain tolerance, he has a high ‘idgaf’ tolerance. The men he grew around were the classic ‘strongmen,’ like the ones you’d find in the bull pen, wrangling the muscular creatures with their bare hands. It’d be as rare as a hen's teeth to catch ‘em crying about some chicken scratches. Unlike them though, Guillermo wears his heart on his sleeve proudly. Everything about an emotional life makes it ten times more enjoyable, especially in Pulhman’s. What's the point of workin’ on such a paradise if there's no laugh and giggles by the end of the day??

“ M’ gonna throw ‘em in cow dung instead. ” Guillermo hops back into the work, scooping up a couple of planks under his arm to stack at the coop instead. His knees shifting as he grunts and grumbles to the ground, hands supporting his lowering before he got to work. If there weren't the loose dogs ( some strays, some not ) around the farm ( and rams ), this wouldn't have been pushed back for so long. The splintering of some panels and growth on others of whatever wasn't at par with what health regulations Guillermo has set on the farm. “ No sign stops ‘em from doing donuts in the field with a tractor… sounds like someone I know. ” He raises his brows, tearing off a bad plank from the coop, where its screws and nails shot around. The boss paying no mind to it as he replaces the old with a new, fresh plank.