Crickets chirp as the sun sets, the sky a beautiful golden color. The heat of the day still clings to rocks and drought-packed dirt but a cool breeze helps to settle the temperature little by little. If nothing else, it feels good against sweat-drenched clothes.
David hops off the back of a caravan and waves a goodbye to the coach. Were it not for him, David would still be walking twenty miles in the desert heat to reach this place. That’s twenty miles of strict rations, sun exposure, and potential robberies. It’s been months, almost a year surviving on his own, he’ll take the help where he can to avoid succumbing to something terrible. The caravan rolls off down the main road, leaving behind David with his two small bags at his sides.
The town is larger than the last town with a large ranch off on the outskirts. David can smell the ranch as its caught in the breeze and he instantly knows where he can try first for work. David picks up his bags in both hands and begins his walk. The day lingers for a while more and owning a ranch is long, hard work, the owners are bound to still be awake.
As he passes the saloon he can hear lively music and the laughter of tipsy men. Before passing by entirely, David peeks into the establishment through its swinging doors, dodging horse manure simultaneously. There’s a man up on the bar dancing wildly as the bartender shouts for him to step down. A tired smile stretches David’s lips, feet trudging forward. He knows it’s unlikely, but he hopes the owners will let him sleep in the stables so he can save some money. Accruing any sum of money worth a damn is difficult and if he can save a few cents by sleeping in a barn instead of at a hotel, he’s a happy man.
People pass him by, giving him wary looks (as one does in a small town where everyone knows everyone). David does well to ignore them. By now, this is just how things are for him.
Finally he reaches the ranch and walks up a winding trail up to the front door of the main building. The sun only offers up a sliver of its light, making way for the moon and stars. David sets his bags down at his feet and knocks on the door. Anxiously he waits. He always hated this part. David is naturally a very shy man. Quite. Mild-mannered. Being perceived as a nuisance makes these things difficult, but without a job there’s no cash, and no cash?
A wrinkled man answers the door. His skin looks like leather, a testament to long hours spent taking care of a vast section of land and animals. A cigarette hangs from his mouth. Eyes flick up and down David’s body and he squints.
“I don’t want whatever it is yer sellin’.” The man’s voice is gruff and David resists flinching away.
David pulls off his hat and clutches it in his hands. “A fine evening, sir. I came here looking for a job and thought such a large ranch surely could use a ranch hand. I hope I’m not imposing.” He offers the man a genuine smile but behind his teeth he can feel his anxiety.
The man eyes David, notices his sweat and the bags under his eyes, then his eyes trail down to the bags at his sides. Bright orange engulfs the tip of his half-smoked cigarette and a plume of smoke follows thereafter. Clearly he is mulling around the idea of David as a ranch hand.
“Can you lift up to 80 pounds?”
“You know how to shoe a horse?”
David nods again, slower this time. He has some training as a ferrier.
The man looks David up and down again and then gestures for him to stick his arms out, “Lemme look at ye.” David does as he is told and sticks his arms out to the side. The man nods to himself, seemingly pleased with David’s physique. “Yeah, you’ll do. Pay starts at a buck. If ya show good work ethic, then I might consider a raise.”
David smiles and there’s a wash of relief inside him, “Thank you kindly, sir. I do have but one last question. Would it be alright if I stay in your barn? I promise to keep quiet and to look after things while you and the missus are in bed.” He’s learned by now that desperation does not make for a good trait, nor does begging make for a decent bargaining chip. Being earnest and short, sweet, and to the point? Now those are things people can get behind. Confidence. Ask for things, don’t whine about them. People want to see independence even when your life is in shambles.
After a brief pause, the man talks around his cigarette “Work starts at sun up.” A calloused finger points towards the barn. “You can sleep in there. Breakfast is at eight.”
“I am grateful, sir.” David smiles and dons his hat. He leans down to grab up his bags, the door to the home already shutting behind the man. Behind the door he can hear the muffled sounds of a woman’s voice just before he walks off the porch and towards the barn.
The big, wooden doors are heavy but David opens one of them wide enough for him to slip inside. It’s pitch dark with only part of the moon’s light to guide him through. Alone again, David creates himself a bed with a thin layer of hay, after which he begins to strip to his underwear. Clothes hang to dry over the door to one of the cow’s stalls. As soon as his body reclines to rest, David’s eyes close, sleep finding him soon after.
“Take them bales on over to the barn.” The older man instructs, a tobacco-stained finger pointing. The sun has only been up an hour and the heat already feels as though its reached its peak for the day. David wipes sweat from his brow as he begins to sling heavy bales into an old wooden cart. The chimney to the house billows smoke, the wife presumably preparing breakfast for the three of them. Eight can’t come fast enough. David feels his insides fighting for a decent bite of food. All he’s had for the past week is salted pork and stale bread.
David pushes the cart of hay from the fields and towards the barn. Thankfully the ground is so packed it makes the cart roll smoothly down the trail. Dust kicks up, however, filling David’s nose and mouth as he breathes. From here he lets his mind wander.
