He made a polite after-you gesture and indicated the way to the hay barn. We started to walk over as Brandon answered my question.
“Nope. His momma passed a while back, broke everyone’s heart. Mr. Cannon died about four years ago, when Clint was twenty-seven. I was Clint’s friend back in school, and when he took over running this place he asked me to come work for him for six months. Turns out, he offered me a pretty good deal, and I don’t have any particular reason to leave yet.”
“Oh,” I said. I wanted to ask him more questions about Clint, but it would be rude. Decisions, decisions.
I was saved from having to work on conversing right away by our arrival at the hay barn. I began to do a more thorough inspection of the premises and the hay, taking samples of the hay itself and measurements of the facilities, becoming totally absorbed in this familiar part of my job.
Eventually, the only duty in this barn that was left to me was a simple visual inspection of the hay. Through all of my measuring and muttering, Brandon was extremely patient, not following me around, but remaining alert enough to promptly answer any question I happened to shout.
Finally, this, most tedious part of my job done, I jotted down a few more notes on my findings and retraced my steps through the long aisles of hay, trying to ignore how quiet and creepy it was to walk alone through these dark and dusty corridors.
When I got back to the entrance, I found Brandon straddling a haybale, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows, slowly rolling his shoulders in strong circles. I’d spent enough time with farm workers to know that many relished the opportunity to stretch the muscles that, in some seasons, they used from sunup to sundown with very little break. He was a fine, strong figure of a man, and on any other day I might have been interested in the sight he presented.
Today, I just wanted him to be Clint.
Trying to move on from the disappointment I was feeling, now that I was out of my reverie of work, I smiled at Brandon.
“Could we take one more walk around the rest of the property?” I asked him.
“Sure, no problem,” he said.
As we walked along, I asked him where he was from, and told me a little bit about growing up nearby. Apparently, he’d been friends with Clint Cannon since the two of them were toddlers.
I took a risk.
“Does Clint get to town often?” I asked casually. “This place is a bit of a haul to get to.”
“He doesn’t think he can leave this place too much. He goes out to buy what he needs, sometimes he catches a movie or stops by the library. Generally, though, he gets a case of beer or a bottle of Jack, and he and I kill evenings together.”
Brandon pointed at a little cabin, just visible in front of a stand of trees a few rolling hills away from the house.
“That’s where I bunk.”
I was surprised, most hands these days stayed in town and made the long drive out morning and evening.
“So he doesn’t go out much? Not a lot of friends to visit, no girlfriend in town?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.”
“Clint? He hasn’t been with a girl since the last one broke his heart,” Brandon said absently. Then, he stopped walking and looked me up and down, a smile growing across his face until he had a wicked grin.
“You’re thinking of trying for him?” he asked, as though Clint were a trophy I could win.
I’m pretty sure I blushed. I hope I didn’t, but I’m pretty sure I blushed.
“Of course not!” I blustered. “It would be very unprofessional. Not that I’m interested, of course. You just don’t see too many setups like this any more and I got curious.”
“Yes, of course,” Brandon said, so seriously that I knew he had to be teasing me. “Well, just in case anyone in the nearby vicinity happened to set their cap for Clint Cannon, let me just go on record as saying that I approve, anything that would cheer that tightass up is fine by me.”
As my inspection of the farm finished, it was around five, and the sun was fading. Clint walked up to us.
“You done?” he asked, twisting his mouth.
“Yep, thank you. I am just about set. Unfortunately, I do need some signatures from you, and to go over the results of the inspection. It shouldn’t take long. Do you have an office where we can sit down for a few minutes?”
“We just got that shipment of new ropes in, they’re all over your office. No room for two people,” Brandon volunteered.
Clint tapped his foot angrily a few times.
“Brandon, can you take over for me here tonight? She and I can go up to the house and do the paperwork in the kitchen,” he said.