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opaloharas · 2 months ago

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LAURO YOU DID IT AGAIN !!! YOU DID IT AGAIN !!!!!!!!

Bless Your Heart | 2. LOOKA HERE

It's your first full day on The Huntsman Farms and boy, is it busy.

tread lightly ⋆⋆⋆ humor and Miguel is very difficult once again, animals

word count ⋆⋆⋆ 8.7k (thank you @slushycoookie !!)

note on the fridge ⋆⋆⋆ This one was a long time coming, but I'm happy with the result! I hope y'all enjoy it!

last | next ℧ masrterlist ℧ AO3

The crickets in the grass provide a white noise for the night. The air conditioning fights against the stuffy room and you’re sprawled out across the bed like an exhausted child. The open-mouth, one foot hanging off the bed, dead weight kind of sleep.

It’s some of the best sleep of your life.

It didn’t even take you long to drift away. You were full, quenched, and bone-tired. There was no need to open your bags to grab a book nor scroll aimlessly on your phone. A hot shower and a glass of water did just the trick.

Somewhere, deep in your dreams, you knew you weren’t going to want to wake up so early. Not after yesterday.

You could almost cry.

The feeling of that frustration hits you more than you thought and your pillow is soaked as a result.

You shift, eyebrows pinching as your head turns, wiping your cheek against your shoulder. Your lips smack and you scratch your neck.

It didn’t take much for your breaths to slow again. The box AC kicked back on, humming over the night time.

Except, you don’t feel the air on your neck. You feel heat and a dip in the mattress. Your cheek is wet again. Your heart picks up and you hold your breath.

Blinking, the dark room phases in and you look to the ceiling.

A dog stares back at you, sniffing and shoving its cold nose into your face. As its snout moves about, drool follows. You don’t even know that you screamed until the light in your room comes on.

“You mutt, when I said wake her up, I didn’t mean kiss her. Get down!”

Gabriel’s voice booms through the room, scaring you half as bad as the droopy dog next to you.

The dog looks at him like it couldn’t stand the sight of him and then goes back to lick your face without a care in the world. You turn your head every which way, trying your best to push the dog away in your lagging state.

“Get!” Gabriel stomps his foot and claps, making the dog huff. “Down, Fido. Down!”

Fido bays like Gabriel is a stranger and you jump again. Gabriel crosses the room and stomps at him again, frightening the pup.

“I don’t know who you yellin’ at, but it ain’t me. Now, move,” he points at the door, “‘fore I have you sleeping with the hogs.”

Whining, the dog jumps down and leaves, Gabriel fussing right after him.

“All that noise at five in the morning like he’s lost his mind,” he turns to look at you, before quickly facing the wall. “I’m sorry about that. Nobody deserves to have that damn dog’s hot breath in their face at no time of day.”

Still trying to catch your bearings, you sit up in the bed. Your view is Gabriel’s backside tight in another pair of jeans with a belt holding them snug against his waist and a light brown t-shirt. This time, the belt was dark like wet wood with light roses and flowing petals etched around it.

“Why are you facing the wall?”

Your voice was a bit hoarse, still coming to back to life. Between his dog and his ass in your face, this morning was already too much to begin to register.

“I’m interrupting your beauty sleep! And uh, well I don’t wanna look at ya too long before you get ready for the day. Some of my aunties on my pa’s side make a big deal about seeing them before their curlers are out. Kinda old, but it’s just a habit I can’t shake.”

He side-steps, shuffling out of the room, elbows bent and hands stiff before him.

“Just come on out when you’re ready,” you see his profile, his eyes closed, “I’m fixin’ up something to eat.”

Watching him leave and go back to the kitchen, your eyes burn with exhaustion. Five in the morning was far too early to be dealing with any of this.

You get up and trudge to the bathroom, the sound of your slides scraping across the wood floor steady. The house smells like bacon and grease. Gabriel is at the stove bouncing from skillet to pot with a towel over his shoulder.

The bathroom is small, with a black and white checkerboard tile and blue cabinet doors. You look in the mirror and become relived that Gabriel didn’t stare at you long.

Dried drool trails down your jaw, the neck of your t-shirt stretches across your collarbones, and your bonnet is barely holding on. Fido’s love was all on the other side of your face.

“Ugh,” you turn the faucet on to scrub away the muck. The cold water shocks you.

By the time you brush your teeth and freshen up, Gabriel is giving a one-man show by the stove. His shoulders are ticking away and his boot is twisting on the floor like his last name is Jackson. His hips circle from left to right and his jeans leave nothing to the imagination.

Fido gives you a tired look as he watches you from the floor next to the dining table.

“Don’t hurt ‘em, Gabriel,” you laugh. His energy is so focused on stirring something in a mug while he dances, he barely hears you.

With a quick change of clothes, a black hair tie to your hair, and sunscreen, you’re ready for the day.

You close your eyes, breathe in, and breathe out. Your chest rises and falls. Your fingers stretch and close. Whatever the day brings, you’ll be ready to take it on.

You smell smoke.

A scent like oil hitting the bottom of an oven and another like soured dough fills your nostrils. You come back to your senses and open your eyes to a foggier room.

Running out, you see Gabriel fanning at the stove with his towel, arm over his mouth as he coughs. Fido is alert and pacing around him.

“What happened?” you ask, going to open a window. “I leave for two seconds, and you’re trying to start fires!”

He opens the oven and grabs a pan. The blackest toast you’ve ever seen presents itself. Fido lays down to hide his nose and whines.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel sighs. “I called myself trying to help you out and got in here and almost burnt the place down to the ground.”

“Well, for one, you have to watch bread. It’s on broil, which means this oven is too high for you to be in here performing.”

Gabriel awkwardly laughs as you switch the knobs on the control panel back.

“And the eye on this stove is far too red for just some bacon.”

“I made some eggs too!”

He points over to a plate on the counter. On it lies dry, colorless scrambled eggs and a sunny side up with dark edges.

“I didn’t know how you liked your eggs. I tried to do over easy, but, uh,” he takes a spatula and lifts the egg up. The bottom is as dark as the skillet. “That wouldn’t make a pretty picture, now would it?”

Stunned, you reach over and turn the stove off. The smell is slowly leaving the house, but the tiny kitchen is a mess.

One pan has eggs stuck to the edges, another has bacon blending into it, and containers of butter and jelly are scattered across the counter.

“Gabriel, do you, by chance, have any idea how to cook? Have you ever had to do such a thing?”

“You say that like there’s nothing left to munch on. A little burnt pieces never hurt anybody.”

You pick up the bacon and it snaps, crumbling like sand.

“This is not burnt. It’s not even blackened. Just black.”

Gabriel gasps.

You call Fido to you, the bloodhound perking up in excitement. You place the bacon in front of his nose, waiting as he sniffs and inspects.

Fido walks backwards, droopy eyes so concerned and confused.

“So bad, even the dog doesn’t want to eat it.”

“You ungrateful bastard,” Gabriel curls his lip to Fido who huffs and lays back down. “See if I give you some bones today.”

“How about you clean this up, I open up some more windows, and then I’ll make us something while you hand me what I need? That sound good?”

“Yeah, that sounds a lot better than whatever the hell I was trying to do.”

After a dish drying rack full of pans, a third of a carton of eggs, one sausage link, several pieces of bacon, and two slices cheese jelly toast later, you’ve set the kitchen straight with a hearty breakfast.

“Sure you don’t want any grits?” you ask Gabriel as you pour up some orange juice.

“No, you’ve done enough for me already, doll. Grits are more up Miguel’s alley and after yesterday’s stunt he don’t deserve nothing from you. Not even an ass to kiss.”

You snicker, happy that at least one of your bosses was on your side.

“Well,” you give him a cup and sit down. “Let’s dig in.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

Grabbing a fork, you watch with anticipation as he turns his plate. It was a simple breakfast, but sometimes the simplest things were the easiest to mess up.

He takes a bite of his eggs and you could have sworn his feet did a little dance.

“Is it good?”

“Is it good? I don’t think I’ll have to drive downtown to a diner anymore. I can just come to you.”

You clap your hands four times with glee and take a bite.

“Come over here too much and I’ll have to charge you.”

“Name your price and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

With a hand over your heart you gasp, “You really think I’d charge you?”

“I think you should. Making good food ain’t easy and you should never work for free. I ain’t nobody special. But speaking of special, what’s the jelly on your cheese toast about?”

“You’ve never had that before?”

“Never in my 34 years of life have I thought to mix dairy and fruit on toast.”

“Pastry puffs? Tarts? Pies?”

“My grandma on my pa’s side makes a mean apple pie.”

“Exactly. And if you add a scoop of ice cream on top, that would be?”

He smirks after he bites a piece of sausage, “Mixing dairy, fruit, and some kind of bread. You got me.”

“With your freshly opened mind, try this.” You take your toast with cheese and grape jelly in your hand then put a few pieces of bacon on one side. Afterward, you fold the bread over, creating a mini sandwich in your hand. “Sweet, savory, and filling. The perfect delicious quick breakfast.”

Gabriel turns over the toast in his hand and scans it with curiosity. For all the questioning he was doing, the giant bite he takes has you biting the inside your lip to hold in your laughter.

You see his eyes sparkle as his eyebrows scrunch up, looking between you and the halfway-gone sandwich.

“I might have to start up another house and open a Bed and Breakfast. Turn the Ranch into a goldmine.”

“Over a bacon sandwich?”

“Over a bacon sandwich,” Gabriel finishes the rest in one bite and sucks the jelly off of his thumb. He wipes it with a paper towel before he grabs a butter knife and another piece of toast.

“It’ll blow your mind even more if you throw some eggs on it.”

“You are just full of ideas.”

His voice sounds skeptical again, but when he scoops the yellow fluff onto the bread that same sparkle comes back tenfold.

Gabriel humming and commenting with each bite fills the space of the kitchen. Fido begs by your feet for food, sniffing the ground and looking up at you with big eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gabriel snaps at him. “Door. Now.”

Fido looks at you like you can save him. You can only sigh through your nose at how expressive he is. He’s cuter when he’s not slobbering.

“I can’t help you buddy,” you say to him. He only budges when Gabriel gives his butt a nudge. He drags himself to the door, grunting as he stares at the floor.

You’re about to ask Gabriel if you can give Fido a piece of sausage when he starts to bark at the door.

His tail is wagging and you can make out a blurry figure through the foggy glass.

You opened the door and look up, not expecting a boy with a head of thick and wavy hair, dark eyes, a few moles, and the stance of an O’Hara.

“Gabriel! You didn’t tell me you had another brother!”

The tall boy’s eyebrow goes up and you wonder if he got that from Miguel.

Gabriel jumps up and laughs as if he won the lottery. His arm wraps around the boy’s shoulders and almost knocks him over pulling him inside.

“You hear that? I still got it!” He pops his collar and pokes his hip out, grin bright on his face.

The grimace that marks the boy’s features brings you back to yesterday’s Gabriel who watched you shovel dark, stinky gunk.

“You’re not old,” he brushes Gabriel’s hand off, “Just strange.”

You try to hold back your laugh, you really do, but the shock on Gabriel’s face causes the snort at the back of your nose to build into giggles.

Straightening up his shirt, Gabriel scoffs, “Don’t hate, appreciate.”

“Hate on what?”

Gabriel clears his throat and puts his arm back around the boy, “This is my greatest pride and joy, my flesh and blood, my little rascal, my superstar, the Number One Junior Cowboy in the land-”

“My name is Rafael and I’m his son, ma’am,” he interrupts Gabriel’s words, holding his hand out to shake. The accent in his voice was subtle compared to his father’s and his tone a lot less strong.

“You never let me finish my speeches.”

Shaking Rafael’s hand you look back and forth between the two. There were a lot of similarities. Still, one thing had your head tilted in confusion.

“Before you ask,” Rafael starts, “I’m 17, not younger, not older, but 17.”

He sounds so distressed about it you wonder how often his age is put into question. “Thank you for the confirmation. Your baby face is quite strong.”

Rafael opens his mouth then closes it abruptly, face unable to hide his shock.

“See Rafa,” Gabriel looks straight at his son, “not everybody thinks you’re grown like you think you’re grown. You’re still my baby bug.”

He squeezes Rafael’s face, cooing as he tried to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Stop,” Rafael glowers, putting his palm over Gabriel’s mouth and pushing it back. “I don’t know where your mouth has been and I just cleared my face up.”

Sighing, Gabriel turns to you, defeated.

“I remember when he used to cry when I had to leave for work. Now, I have to fight him just to hear ‘I love ya, Pops!’ Just breaking my little heart.”

Rafael copies his dad’s defeated look, whether he means to or not, and halts the sob story, “We need to practice today, and you’re in here running your mouth.”

“So, are you coming in here to fuss at me or do you really need me to practice?

“Both.”

“You hang around Miguel too much,” Gabriel grimaces. “You sound just like him.”

“And he doesn’t rub off on you enough. You should hang around him more.”

“He tried to hurt your poor pops yesterday and you’re sticking up for him.”

“What did you do?”

“I ain’t do nothing!”

It was like watching a tennis match seeing them go back and forth. A comedic tennis match. Whereas Gabriel was playful and silly, Rafael was serious and having none of it.

“Why do you always get like this when it’s time for rodeo prep?” Your ears pickup on Rafael’s words, but you can’t butt in. “And why does it smell like that in here?”

Gabriel looks like he’s about to smack him, but you save him, “Your daddy tried to kill us this morning with his cooking.”

Rafael laughs, “He’s banned from Mamá’s kitchen for life. I don’t know why he decided today was a good day to try to cook again.”

Turning him around, Gabriel lightly kicks at the back of Rafael’s knees, moving him out of the door.

“Go busy yourself instead of wasting this nice lady’s time.”

“You’re the one wasting her time,” Rafael laughs in response, smile from earlier getting bigger. You think he looks most like Gabriel this way, with his giggles showing his full set of teeth.

“Wait, Rafael. Before you go, do you want something to eat? I’ve got plenty of food left. That your daddy had no part in.”

“So is this how it’s going to be? Shooting a man while he’s already down?” Gabriel asks out loud in disbelief.

“Yes ma’am, I would love some,” Rafael bumps Gabriel out of the way to follow you back inside.

When he gets to the display of food, it’s like introducing a toddler to a candy store for the first time. One small bite of eggs turns into ten seconds of scarfing down food. You’ve never seen anything like it. You kindly show him the same dish you showed Gabriel and it was like déjà vu.

“Boy, you’re acting like I don’t feed you!” Gabriel huffed by the door.

“You don’t. Mamá does.”

“She ain’t feed you this morning?”

“She slept in today and Tío wanted us out on the field bright and early. Which reminds me, I’m really late. Gotta get back.”

He grabs three connected paper towels and gently asks you if he could take some more food which you happily agree too. He gathers the rest of the toast and bacon, making about seven more sandwiches. You mentally thank yourself for making way too much food.

“Alright, I gotta go! Thank you again for the food, ma’am.”

“It’s no problem. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

Rafael shuffles out of the house, arms full of food. Gabriel shakes his head as he opens the screen door for him.

“Just big and greedy. Just like your damn uncle.”

His son only makes a face at him and carries on.

“Don’t have kids,” Gabriel has his arms crossed as he watches Rafael carefully walk on the path beside that stark-white house. “I was wild back then. Too wild.”

Raising an eyebrow, you look at his profile, “You sure you’re not still wild now?”

“I’m not foolin’ with you, Ms. Ranch Hand. Now c’mon before I have to hear Miguel’s mouth via child again.”

You thought you had seen all the ranch had to offer yesterday, but as you hold onto the top of Gabriel’s camo-colored golf cart for dear life, your eyes dart across the land in front of you in awe.

There were a few more houses on the land both big and small. Manicured grass covers the entire lot. Full gardens, still ponds, and hay bales in the midst of fields pass you by. Trees stand tall along the outskirts and that same bright red fence peeks out every now and then.

After each bump in the road, Gabriel cackles at you cutting off your curses. He chatters on and on about how everything was built from the ground up by the hands of his father’s family and enhanced with the knowledge of his mother’s family.

When you drive past his home, you take in the grandness of it, unable to hold back your gasp.

It was rustic, with irregular bricks switching from one shade to the next and lighter vertical shiplap on some walls. The dark wood arch of the front doors matched the tone of the roof. A long driveway led to the garage and forked off into a path leading to the porch.

As your eyes locked onto the home, he had a story of how it was once a shack ready to tell.

His granddad first made it to get him and his cousins out of his man cave.

“We got a hold of his poitín, like moonshine. That was the first time I’ve ever seen a man turn red from his back in under a second. And some of my cousins were no better. Red in the hair, redder in the face, drunk as a skunk.”

“I would have been mad too! Imagine wanting to unwind and you find your grandkids in your liquor cabinet. Y’all are so lucky that a shack is all you got.”

“Oh, but my pa was even more furious. That was the second longest mass of my life.”

“What was the first?”

He squinted through the sunlight, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. He’s so quiet, you think something is wrong. You turn to him and he smiles without reaching his eyes.

“When Pa found out he’d be a granddad before I could finish packing up for college. A semester’s worth of that…what’s it called? Raymond?”

“Ramen?”

“Yeah! That! A semester’s worth of that was stocked up in the shack. At least while my wife could still stomach it.”

“Mm, I think it’s for the best. They didn’t need you starting fires from the dorm microwaves.”

Gabriel breaks, pulling his laugh from his gut. The tightness from earlier subsides and you grin at him.

“You won’t let that go, will you?”

“Not a chance.”

The two of make it to your destination in one piece. Minus your heart ramming into your chest as Gabriel turns into the small parking lot.

There was a cherry red horse arena with a white roof and black trimmed doors. Three flags protruded from walls: American, Mexican, and Irish.

Gabriel hops out as best as he could, a grunt filling the air as he stands.“Let’s see if he’s working my son to death or not.”

With the engine cut, the closest sounds of nature are drowned out by the hooves of horses hitting the ground. As you get closer to the giant barn doors, Gabriel grins like it’s Tax Day.

“Ready for a preview of the best show in the world?”

You nod, squeezing your fingers in anticipation.

You can’t remember the last time you climbed flights of concrete and metal stairs to watch cowboys and cowgirls alike. Though, you do remember the feeling of standing up on the seat with stars in your eyes as your dad braced your legs from slipping away. The smell of leather, the sea of brown hats, the shouts of the crowd, the wind in the rider’s hair. It was always like magic to you.

Thinking of the well-mannered boy from this morning, you had no idea how he would appear riding around on a horse.

Gabriel pulls the door open, the wheels on the track making a loud screech.

With how he described it, yelling over the revving engine, you were expecting Rafael to damn near flip onto his horse from the side fences.

Stepping onto the sand and walking up to the barricade, it was quite the opposite.

If you had a nickel for every time you were greeted with the bottom of an O’Hara man, you’d have ten cents. Enough for one Big Slice Pop.

Miguel leaned over a fence with a dark denim button down and matching jeans adorning him. A black baseball cap with the ranch logo sits backwards on his head and one of his boots is hooked on the bottom part of the fence.

There were five kids saddled up on horses of different sizes walking slowly in a circle that he kept his eyes on. You recognize Rafael and Gabriella, but the others, you’ve never seen before.

Gabriella looks in your direction and waves frenziedly.

“Keep ‘em steady,” Miguel shouted across the room. “Focus, Gabriella!”

She huffs and puts her hands back on her hot pink reigns. Her horse is light brown with a blonde mane and cotton candy pink streaks. You think the name Flora was fitting for it.

“Never mind. He’s boring my kids to death,” Gabriel mumbles next to you. You both walk to the right side of arena.

“Kids?” Looking at him from your peripheral, you didn’t mean to sound so stunned, but you couldn’t help it.

He, on the other hand, was unmoved.

“Kids. I said that earlier, didn’t I?”

“You said nothing of the sort.”

“Hm. I could have sworn I did.”

Rafael shuffles by with his gold horse. Gabriel snickers at the tired look on his face and starts to tease him from the sidelines.

“I bet you wish you weren’t rushing in here now, huh?”

His son only rolls his eyes and steers his horse away. The pinch in his eyebrows doesn’t quiver as he finishes off a lap.

It’s not long before another child comes by mouthing ‘help me, please’ with all of his might. While Rafael looks like Gabriel with hints of someone else, this one was a carbon copy of him with a scar embedded in his cheek. Looking at him, you can picture the stories of mischief about a younger Gabriel a lot easier.

His dad only shrugged at him and gestured to keep riding.

“How long do they need to do this for?” you ask, watching a mini-Miguel come closer. He hardly blinks, little face focusing on his horse. “How long have they been doing this today, rather?”

“Good question. Usually they do warmups catered to their horses and their specific riding categories. This pony show is news to me.”

Gabriella reaches the gate and her puppy dog eyes are in tact.

“Tío, I’m hungry,”she pouts.

“Y’all didn’t eat yet?” Gabriel walks by the gate alongside her.

“Nuh uh! Daddy said we needed to do laps first. But I’m starving right now!”

Her uncle tries to keep a light face, but you can see the cracks in his mask through the way his lips tighten over his teeth.

“Tell you what, go put Flora in a stable and come on back,” Gabriel sighs. “In fact, all of y’all stop and take a break.”

He unlocks the gate and holds it until everyone is out and turning into the large side doors. It’s not until the last child leaves that Gabriel’s demeanor shifts from bubbly to blunt.

“Are you crazy?” Gabriel starts. He holds onto the top of the fence as he limps towards his brother. “Having these kids up here in the morning with no food?”

“I told you and her to be here early this morning.” Miguel stops to check his watch. “And if I’m not mistaken, I said to be here at seven on the dot. It’s nearly two hours later.”

“What does that have to do with the damn kids, Miguel?”

“We work as a team. Can’t start nothing without everybody here and accounted for. You already know that.”

Gabriel slams the gate, rattling the entire fence.

“I’m gonna walk away because you fixin’ to aggravate my nerves and I don’t need that this morning.”

“Good. There’s nothing to argue about.”

Gabriel waves his hand in frustration, grunting to sound Miguel out. He turns around, barely mustering a smile to you before he stomps off after the kids.

Left standing awkwardly, you place your hands in your back pockets for comfort.

Though you hadn’t known him long, you never thought you would see Gabriel get that upset. He seemed so happy-go-lucky in everything that he did, even in his sliver of sadness.

Still, you would be furious too if someone had your kids up and working without any type of fuel.

The culprit was currently walking towards you with his hands on his hips.

Miguel looks down at you, gaze lingering on your legs. His lips twitched as you shuffled a bit, folding your arms under your chest.

“You’re wearing shorts to work?”

Of all the things he could have said, that wasn’t what you were expecting.

Looking down, your mouth twists to the side in irritation before you can even stop it.

They weren’t exactly daisy dukes, though if you bend forward enough, they could be. The ripped hems hug your skin and don’t leave much to the imagination, but it was the first pair you grabbed.

You count to three, fix your face, and unfold your arms.

“It’s hot. Is that a problem?”

When you look back at him, his head tilts, brown eyes trailing back up to your face.

“It’s adequate.”

“Adequate?”

He takes his cap off, runs a hand through his hair, and places it back on. He breathes in and the white shirt under his jacket constricts.

“For a barbecue. Not cleaning stables.”

“Well, I’m sorry I don’t have the same pair of pants in five million colors,” you scoff. “What would you like me to do, sir?”

“I would like for you to be on time. This is your second strike.”

Biting back a comment about how your life was left in the hands of his accident prone brother and his drooping companion, you simply nod.

“I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

“I don’t need you to try, I need you to act. It would be much more appreciated,” he walks a bit closer to you, your head rising up and up to meet his eyes. “Understood?”

“Understood. Heard loud and clear. Sir.”

His eyelids lower slightly and you wait for yet another thing to respond to. Yet, he stares at you for longer than necessary to get his point across.

“First things first, I need you to level out the arena.”

“Alright. And how do I do that?”

Miguel’s eyebrows pinch, his expression perturbed. You look to the lumpy sand mixture spread under light walls and a windowed roof then look back at him.

“You’re asking me…how to even out sand?”

“Is there no special procedure?”

“Will I have to tell you how to do everything moving forward?”

Sighing, you reach up to twist your braids over and over to pin them up into a bun. “The kids will be here practicing some more, right? I just want to make sure that everything is done properly. No harmed toe or hoof on behalf of me not knowing what I’m doing.”

Miguel stares again. This time, you really can’t tell what he’s thinking.

He walks off to the doors where the kids went, leaving you alone.

It’s not like the arena was a sandbox you claimed at the park. It was a stomping ground for an animal twice your size. Wasn’t it better to be safe than sorry?

Miguel comes back with a long, handmade contraption in his arms. It’s a piece of wood bolted to a wired fence with chain links dangling from it. He kicks open the gate and drops it, particles flying everywhere.

He dusts his hands off and turns to you. “Since you’re not tractor certified-”

“How would you know that?” The words fly out of you before you can stop them.

“Well, are you?”

Peeved, you look off as you shake your head. The last time you worked a standard shift was when your dad told you when to shift the gears of his truck on the ride to school. You weren’t even driving. You were 10.

“Right, like I said. Since you’re not tractor certified, you’re gonna take this here chain, and drag this harrow in a circle ‘round the arena. Simple.”

“Ok.” You step on the sand and take the chain from him. It’s rusty and dry, leaving residue on your fingers at every touch.

Miguel steps out of your way and back by the fence. He resumes the position he had earlier. Now, you feel like the show pony.

“Get to pullin’,” Miguel taps the fence twice. “We ain’t got all day.”

Taking your tongue between your teeth, you yank the chain, expecting it to move swiftly. When it yanks you back, the sound of metal clanking together echoes through the building, and you want the sand to create a funnel to pull you in.

How the hell did he even pick up this piece of junk?

You try again to no avail. The wood only budges about a centimeter. You curse under your breath.

“If that’s too much, I got a rake with your name on it,” Miguel offers. It feels like he’s right behind you and if you look at him now, you might blow a fuse.

Bending your knees, you tighten your grip and pull. The harrow moves slowly, leaving shaky lines in its wake.

It’s not until you’re finally turning your first corner five minutes later that Miguel calls out again.

“I got a yard rake and this hand harrow!”

Stubborn, you keep pulling, muttering a “fuck you,” using the distance to your advantage.

“What was that?” Miguel yells.

“I said no thank you! I got it.”

For thirty more minutes, you build up a sweat by dragging a gate around. Your face is dewy and your t-shirt is sticking to your armpits. When you make it back to where Miguel is standing, your back is drenched.

“Good,” he nods, looking at your work. “Now, you need to take it up the middle and run over it again.”

“What?”

“Look at it,” he bends his head to point at the arena floor. “It ain’t all even. Still bumpy. You gotta run it again.”

“Miguel.”

He raises an eyebrow at you. You purse your lips in response.

“Mr. O’Hara, this alone took half an hour.”

“Are you complaining right now? Do you not wanna work?”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. You just stood over there and said the kids need to practice. By the time I finish, it’ll be time for them to eat again.”

“And that’s why punctuality is important. Right?”

You felt like that point was made yesterday when you were scrubbing manure out of the crevices of your shoes. Still, you pulled the chain and made your way down the center of the arena.

By the time the kids reenter the room, your hands are sore from trying to stop the chain from slipping from your grasp.

Rafael stands with a look of concern on his face as you inch past the fence.

“Why are you dragging that?”

“Ask your uncle.”

Miguel shrugs as Rafael looks at him, “I tried to give her the rake.”

Your eye twitches and you want to whack him with the wood you’re pulling. Too bad you couldn’t pick it up without some help.

“Are you ok?” Rafael lowers his voice, hand on Miguel’s shoulder. You don’t hear his answer over the metal.

The two of them continue talking with Miguel’s attention still on you. His nephew is shaking his head, hands moving dramatically. When you pause for a deep breath, you swear you can hear him tell Miguel to grow up.

The gate swings open and Rafael walks toward you. He taps your shoulder and grabs the chain.

“Hey, I’ll take it from here.”

“Did you guys ever eat?” you wipe some sweat from your jaw. “That’s more important. I can handle this much.”

“No, you’ve been doing this for too long and I’m scared you’re going to pass out. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’d rather me pass out than y’all.”

Rafael’s shoulders slump, “You’ve done enough, ma’am. Without you, we’d be riding on empty stomachs. Please, go sit and drink some water.”

His sincerity gets you to quit, your urge to prove Miguel wrong also subsides. Miguel couldn’t even look you in the eye as you go to sit on the ground.

The children peer at you from the doors and you try your best to smile. You think you look worn out, though.

Gabriella comes to you as you fan your neck, a cold water bottle in her hands.

“Here you go,” she squats in front of you, an arms-length away. “Sometimes when I’m hot, I shake it and put it on my forehead.”

Thanking her, you do just that, the touch of the plastic cooling you down.

Gabriella moves to sit with her legs scrunched up, cheek on her arm as she stares. That same sparkle in her eyes from yesterday afternoon is back.

“Ah,” you sigh, feeling shy. “Where are my manners? How are you feeling today, Gabriella?”

She perks up, timid demeanor unfolding like a flower waking up. She scooches closer until her purple and black cowgirl boots touch the tips of your docs.

“I’m doing good!”

“I’m happy you’re doing good.”

She starts to say something then stops, face unable to hide her emotion. Her button nose scrunches up in determination.

“Do you like popsicles?”

Snorting, you move the bottle to your neck, “I love popsicles.”

She looks back to Miguel who’s tying the harrow to the back of a muddy quad. You want to laugh in disbelief as Rafael hops on it to finish the job you started.

It wasn’t even a tractor.

Gabriella grabs your wrist. “Follow me.”

“Here,” she passes you a red freezer pop. You hadn’t had one in over a decade. “I saw Daddy put them in here yesterday. He doesn’t know that I saw him.”

You gasp dramatically, “Gabriella! Are you sneaky?”

“Nuh uh!” she hushes, “’m not sneaky. I’m smooth! Like Jade.”

Thinking about how she snuck past her family to get into your house yesterday, you’d have to agree.

“We gotta hurry and eat fast. I think I have to practice barrel racing after Manny.”

She holds out her pink popsicle like a glass to clink and you say cheers with a grin. The two of you lean on a deep freezer and eat quietly.

“Wanna know a secret?” Gabriella asks.

“Always!”

She beckons you closer and you lean down to hear.

“Sometimes, Daddy farts in his sleep.”

Whether the grimace or the laugh comes first, you’re gasping for air at Gabriella’s words. She giggles behind her hands next to you and it’s the cutest sound you’ve ever heard.

“Does he really?”

“Yeah! And he snores too loud. It wakes me up.”

The idea you have of him shifts a bit more. This tall, serious, and stern man has his flaws. And the bubble guts too, apparently.

“I’m sorry for what he made you do earlier. Usually, that’s a boy’s job.”

“Hey, you don’t need to say sorry for him,” you look at her and you want to give her a hug. She looks like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders. “He might do things that I don’t understand, but that’s not your fault.”

“But it wasn’t right. He always tells me to be kind even when others aren’t kind to me.” She lowers her tone as best as she can, “Sunshine, it don’t cost a dime to be kind. You’ll be rich.”

You nod your head slowly. A broken clock was right twice a day.

“Well, how I see it, you’re doing right by listening to your dad. You’ve been kind enough to me for the both of you and then some. Still, I’m a big girl. I can handle it. Any job he throws at me, I’ll get it done. Thank you for worrying about me.”

“And here I thought y’all two were running ‘round with the cows.”

You and Gabriella jump, throwing the plastic behind you as Gabriel leans on the doorway.

“Gabriel! Aren’t we happy to see you, right Gabbie?”

“Right!”

“I bet y’all are,” he shakes his head and points behind him. “Get on back to the arena Baby Girl.”

She looks at you apologetically and runs off, her uncle patting her head as she zooms by.

“How you holdin’ up?” Gabriel asks.

“Possibly worst than you were when you left. Arguably the same. Gabriella was an angel though and improved my mood.”

“She tends to have that effect on others. And letting you in on the secret popsicle stash? She must really like you. She won’t even let poor Manny have a fourth of one.”

“You know, that’s the second time I’ve heard that name. Should we put a face to it?”

He bows, hat to his chest, “After you.”

The boys are standing up from tallest to shortest like a xylophone, per Gabriel’s request. One short shout of “round up!” had them lining up with begrudging steps.

“Where are those smiles at? Ain’t y’all happy to be a O’Hara?” Gabriel has his hands on his hips and the tone of a coach.

A chorus of yes’s echoes through the arena and Gabriel claps loudly.

“Good! That’s what I like to hear.”

He walks past them like a colonel, tapping shoulders and lifting chins. Behind you, Miguel sighs and throws a saddle over the fence.

“This is Rafael, you met him this morning. My oldest, my flesh and blood, my little rascal, my superstar, the Best Junior Cowboy in the land-”

“So, this morning was a bit,” you cut in.

Gabriel stamps his boot in the ground, “Dammit, I just can’t finish boasting ‘bout my child, can I?”

“My fault. Continue.”

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the Best Junior Cowboy in the land and soon to be the best Cowboy in the land.”

“We don’t know that,” Rafael hums.

“Yes, the hell we do, boy. Don’t start. Tighten up.”

Rafael exhales through his nose as his father steps past him.

“This is Gage, my second oldest, but most of the time, we call him Junior.”

You watch him shift his stance, thumbs hooked through his belt loops and crocodile boots peaking out from under his jeans. The smile he sported look just like Gabriel’s when he told you he beat Miguel in a mud truck race.

Looking between Gage and Rafael, a question forms.

“Twins?”

“Irish,” Gabriel, Rafael, and Gage respond in unison.

“That makes sense.”

Gabriel looks at his son up and down as he poses. “I thought I told you not to wear them boots out here. All you’re ‘bout to do is tear ‘em up.”

“Not if your dog gets a hold of ‘em, first! I tried to get ‘em out his mouth, but he thought I was playin’ and tugged for twenty minutes.”

Rafael’s shoulders shook as he laughed and Gage elbowed him in the stomach in retaliation.

“And I told you stop leaving your shoes wherever you please. You’re not the only one that lives in that house.”

You watched the two of them fuss and the nickname Junior became more and more accurate. Gabriel was arguing with himself.

“Ok, ok, we get it. Don’t leave my shoes on the floor. When do we to get to the part where you list all of my accolades?” Gage grins at his father, teeth sparkling in the same way.

It’s your turn to snicker as Gabriel smacks the back of his head. His son groans loudly and ruffles his hair.

“It took me all morning to do this! I woke up extra early!”

“Son, you look the same as any other day.”

“Exactly. Perfect.”

Tired, Gabriel turns to you, “As you can see, a handful. He has the potential to be the best bronc rider if he wasn’t so worried ‘bout lookin’ in the damn mirror all the time.”

“Clothes make the man. Didn’t you teach me that?” Gage squints at his father. He turns to smile at you, “I like your shorts, for one.”

You start to thank him when two smacks on his head from Gabriel and Rafael stop you. Miguel tells him to watch his mouth from the chair he pulled up by the wall. You look to him and his leg crossed with a shaking foot, a frown on his face. Gabriella is sprawled out over his lap pretending to fly.

“Moving on,” Gabriel gives Gage a knowing look to which he avoids. “This is Ricardo. He’ll be the first cowboy with a Michelin star.”

“A cowboy already has two, Pa,” Ricardo says.

He looks embarrassed as Gabriel takes a thumb and smooths out his thick eyebrows. His auburn hair and his heart-shaped birthmark makes him stand out from his siblings.

“You’ll have ten!”

“They only go up to three.”

“Are you questioning me?”

Huffing, Ricardo shook his head as Gabriel steps past.

“Last, but not least, is my prodigy, Manuel.”

You looked down to see a child who you thought was Miguel’s. Suddenly, it’s like you’re standing outside with your suitcase and your hand out again.

“It’s nice to nice to meet you ma’am,” his little voice even reminds you of his uncle. His attitude is miles better.

“It’s lovely to meet you, too.”

Looking at them all like this, you could see Gabriel’s influence. Whether it’s the personality, the playfulness, the talent, or the entire person, his boys were parts of him.

He took his boys into his arms, half of them reluctant, half of them unbothered.

“These are my kiddos. You’ll see them running around more often than not.”

You repeat their names again and introduce yourself with hopes to getting to know them better.

Gabriel begins another speech, going on and on about the importance of family and the pride of the ranch.

Miguel cuts him off with Gabriella latched onto his back like a koala.

“This is great. Fantastic even. I needed this speech this morning when you were off doing God knows what. Right now though, the boys need to practice for at least 15 minutes each.”

“Fifteen minutes?” Gage wails.

“Make it 30. You’re up first. Go get Prince ready.”

Gage looks from his uncle to his dad in disbelief.

“Gotta fight for those accolades, son.”

“It’s cool,” Gage says as he grins at you. “I get to show off my skills.”

“Make it 45 and a lap ‘round the arena.”

His second eldest nephew shrieks as Rafael kicks him in the shin.

Miguel addresses the rest of his nephews with sharp snaps. “Y’all go stretch. We don’t want any more accidents like the hot shot over here.”

“I can’t win for losing,” Gabriel grumbles.

With how Miguel was acting, you were worried that the boys would be here all night. If you took in Rafael’s composure, this seemed like a normal occurrence. If you considered Gage’s complaints, this seemed like unnecessary torture.

Be that as it may, that practice wasn’t for nothing.

Gabriel’s boasting made sense as you watched each of his boys rip and run with their stallions. Although Miguel and Gabriel had a note after each pull of the reign or spin of the lasso, you were truly awed.

To Rafael riding with one foot in a stirrup to swiftly slide on the ground to Ricardo tying knots in under 10 seconds to Manuel catching a calf like it’s nothing.

Even as Gage almost busts his butt hopping off his horse, you want to clap.

“I was ‘posed to do that!” he’s wiping his hands down his jeans as he reassures you.

“No, you weren’t,” Miguel writes on the clipboard he’s been holding since practice began. “Go get the balance board.”

As the boys finish up, they start to file in next to you on metal folding chairs, the creaks loud under the roof. The hats they wore placed securely in their laps and they all look exhausted.

The last to practice was Gabriella.

She hopped on Flora with spunk, rubbing the horse’s neck and talking to her.

“Ya ready, Sunshine?” Miguel has a timer in his hand.

“Yeah!”

When he says go, nothing could have prepared you for the switch. Gabriella is like a swirl of pinks and lilacs as she takes off, turning and dodging barrels with ease. Two laps feels like two seconds as she runs off with Flora down the arena.

“What’s the time?” Gabriel asks, leaning forward.

Miguel looks at him, “16.923.”

He jumps up with a shout. “That’s my baby girl!”

Gabriella lets out a shriek as she steps down from Flora. She runs to Miguel who drops the board and swings her up in his arms.

“Muy bien, mija,” he kisses her cheeks with a soft smile. “That was your best score yet.”

“Did ya see? I held on tight like you said! And, and, and I kept my pinkie toe in the stirrup!”

“I know, I know! I saw you. We gotta work on that left barrel turn, though.”

Gabriella groans and bends backward like she’s about to fall out of his arms. He’s quick to catch her, face unmoving as if he’s used to that move.

It was the most gentle you’ve seen him all day.

“Give her some slack,” Gabriel walks towards them. “They’ve all worked hard today and I’m ready to eat. And I’m tired.”

At the thought of food, his sons hopped up from their seats, heading to the stables to prep to leave.

“How you tired when you just sat there all day?”

“Speaking of eating,” Gabriel grins at his phone with a fire in his eyes. “Mami is ready for me to come on home.”

Miguel pushes Gabriel’s face out of his own with disgust. He points to his daughter still in his arms. “Time and place.”

“Tío, can Tee Tee do my hair tomorrow?”

Gabriel pushes her hair back and gives her a sad look.

“I’m not sure Baby Girl, she hasn’t been feeling too dandy today. This month has been hard on her.”

Her eyelashes flutter sadly and Gabriel becomes a puddle.

“H-how ‘bout I do it, huh? What d’ya think ‘bout that?”

“The last time you did it, you took a chunk out.”

Your jaw drops in horror and Gabriella’s bottom lip wobbles.

“That was an accident, Gabbie. You know I didn’t mean it! W-what about your daddy? He can do it!”

“He brushes my hair too hard! It hurts!”

Miguel bounces her a bit, trying to calm her down. “Sunshine, I’ll just have to do it in a pigtail like always. You’re gonna be wearing a helmet. You don’t need to worry ‘bout all that. ”

Her dad might as well have told her that she couldn’t wear pink anymore because she’s start sobbing like a baby. Gabriel panics and pulls her from Miguel’s arms trying to shush her.

Manuel peeks around the corner with a frown, pecan eyes finding Gabriella in tears.

Miguel rubs her back, line in his forehead becoming more prominent.

Taking a tiny step, you went out on a limb.

“I could do her hair. If you don’t mind. If she’s comfortable.”

The three of them look at you and the air around Gabriel shifts.

“Could you really?”

“Yeah! It wouldn’t be hard at all.”

“I could have it like yours?” Gabriella’s voice wobbles and you nod your head.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

You look to Miguel who regards you with a displeasure worse than this morning, more severe than yesterday.

“No.”

The sun was lower, leaving rays to slant across the gray floors. His mouth was cast in a shadow, but his eyes read clear.

“But Daddy-"

“I said no, Gabriella.”

She looks at her father with uncertainty, chest shaking with every breath she took. She writhes, making Gabriel quickly place her on the ground, then she runs off. Manuel follows after her, calling her name.

Gabriel sighs, “Really, Miguel?”

“Really. Go get her horse, since you feel like you run shit.”

“The girl’s asking for something small and we have someone here to help out. We have the means to give it to her.”

“And I didn’t ask for any goddamn help,” he points a finger to Gabriel’s chest. “Not with this farm, not with my work, and for damn sure, not with my own child.”

He brushes past his brother, shoulders knocking into his. When he marches towards you, your nails dig into your palms.

Leaning down, he levels himself with you and blocks the light from your view. “That’s strike three. I want you out of here come the morning.”

You didn’t know you were holding your breath until you're watching his figure walk beyond where the light could touch.

dividers by ⋆⋆⋆ saradika + rookthornesartistry 💚

a/n ⋆⋆⋆ It gets worse before it gets better y'all. If you would like to be on the taglist, sign up here or comment! Let me know how you feel!!

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