Wild West AU
"This is just great...", you mutter, glancing at your phone for the time again.After a five and a half hour flight with delightful turbulence next to a sweaty middle aged banker with a fear of flying who had way too much garlic for lunch, you thought you were done. But now that you are waiting outside Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport with no one in sight to pick you up, it comes to mind that the universe isn't going to stop toying with you just yet. On top of it all, the weather decided to throw a curveball as well. What happened to the lovely sun rays and comfortable temperatures from the brochures is a mystery to you, because right now it's so humid that the fabric of your clothing clings to your skin as if it's trying to hold on for dear life. To make matters worse rain has started to fall down from the clouded sky. Right, monsoon season. Oh well, at least the entrance of the arrival hall offers you shelter. With a sigh you sit down on you oversized suitcase, scanning your surroundings for a driver. You could eat a horse, as a figure of speech. Obviously you would never eat a horse, you love those animals. They are the reason why you touched down in Phoenix after all.
From the age of four you've been riding. Being on the back of a horse is one of the first memories you can recall now that you think of it. The question 'what do you want to be when you grow up?' was always answered the same: you want to be a professional rider with your own ranch, that's your dream. Despite your unconditional love for these majestic creatures and your motivation to accomplish your goals, your parents stimulated you to go to college. Heck, you even got your masters degree, but honesty, all you ever wanted to do was train horses. So when you graduated a few weeks ago you thought that was exactly what you were going to do. Your father wasn't impressed with your business plan, though, and decided that he was only going to lend you the money to start up your own company if you would complete six months of hard work on a ranch. 'No quitting, no complaints', is what he said. Clearly he's underestimating his daughter, because how hard could ranch life possibly be? Sure, you spent most of your time riding and not so much tacking, cleaning or feeding. After all, employees at the boarding stable did that for the clients. But you had insight, management skills and other great characteristics that will help you run a business. What is a half a year of hard labor going to contribute, besides to a good waistline and a sunburn?
Although you thought your father's plan was completely unnecessary, you went with it. Six months will pass by in the blink of an eye, it will be over before you know it. It's gonna be a walk in the park, smooth sailing, right? Except for the fact that you are stranded on the airport, all alone and with no clue where to go. Hopefully the rocky flight to the desert wasn't an omen for what is yet to come. After fifteen minutes of waiting you take out your phone again. For a second your thumb lingers on the speed dial number that would connect you with your father instantly, but then you look up the number of the ranch owner in your email and call him instead. Running back to mom and dad was not going to deliver the message of an independent girl that is ready for the big world, looks like you have to dig yourself out of this mess. Arizona might not have been your Dad's best idea, but you are here now. Pride forbids you to give him or any other who was sceptic about how you were going to spend the next six months the satisfaction of being right.
"Bobby, are you gonna pick up the damn phone or what?"
Dean empties his beer bottle and sets it down on the bar next to the phone which has rang a couple of times now. He glances at the screen, unable to identify the number and looks up again, searching the saloon for his uncle. At the round table in the center of the lounge the man in his mid sixties is enjoying a game of cards and a glass of whiskey, accompanied by a few members of the crew. Bobby hasn't heard Dean, too busy laughing over a dirty joke that Ash just told and right as his nephew is about to call out his name again, the phone on the wooden counter stops ringing. Oh well, if it's important they will call again, right? He couldn't really be bothered right now, even though he feels drained from last days events, he won't let anything take away this carefree feeling. Together with Jo, Benny and a couple of guests they moved the young cattle from the summer pasture up in the Superstition Mountains back to the ranch. It took them two days to locate them, but eventually found the herd at Weaver's Needle. After hours spent in the saddle and camping out for two nights they all needed a shower, a good meal and a couple of beers. Bringing in the cattle is one of the highlights of the season and everyone, including him, will take any excuse for a good party. It didn't take long before those who anticipated, wranglers, workers and guests, gathered in the saloon to celebrate. The place hasn't been this crowded for years and it brings a smile to Dean's face as he takes it all in, resting the palms of his hands on the edge of the bar. A raw and upbeat country song fills the room together with the growling laughs from the men, cheers when the beer bottles are heaved into the air and the sound of billiard balls colliding on the pool table.
He lets a sigh slip from his lips as he glances aside at Ellen, who just brought back a full tray of empty glasses. As she sets it down on the counter in order to give her arms some rest, his aunt smiles content when she witnesses the pleased expression on Dean's face.
"Enjoying yourself, sweetheart?", she says satisfied.
Dean nods, grabbing two new bottles of Corona from the cooler.
"It's a good night".
Ellen grants her eyes another look at her saloon and can only agree.
"It sure is", she takes the beer that is handed over.
They toast to that statement and both take a swig, but before Dean can swallow his drink the phone on the counter starts ringing; guess it is important. Again he calls out Bobby's name, a little louder this time as he approaches him with the phone in his hand.
"I'm in the middle of a poker game, son, and I'm big stack for change", he replies, not looking up from his cards.
"Your phone's been buzzing like crazy", Dean grins, noticing the pair of queens in his hand.
"Is it ringing, really? How come I can't hear the damn thing?"
"Maybe because you need to start using your God forsaken hearing aids", Ellen scoffs from behind the counter.
A little agitated he lays his cards upside down on the table and takes the phone from Dean.
"Woman, you don't know what you're talking about. My ears are fine".
Bobby adjusts his worn out baseball cap a little as he looks down at the screen confused, obviously not sure how to work the piece of modern technology.
"How do I pick the hell up?", he wonders out loud.
"You swipe it, Dad".
Jo walks up from the pool table and leans over her father's shoulder, still holding her cue stick. With a simple movement she lets her finger slide across the touchscreen. Somewhat clumsy Bobby presses the phone against his ear, letting out a hesitating 'hello?' as if he was not completely sure if that little magic trick actually worked.
"You really had to give him your old Iphone, huh?", Dean sniggers at Jo, who has walked back to the pool table to finish the game she was winning from one of the guests.
"Anything's better than that old Nokia", his cousin returns, throwing him a look as she whips her blonde hair over her shoulder. "That thing was pre-historic".
"Hey, Nokia's are old school! Besides, he had trouble sending a text message on that thing, let alone on that piece of shit".
Dean leans against the edge of the pool table, glancing at the game that is in play on the green quarried slate. Jo is going to ace it, she's allowed to shoot the eight-ball in already while her opponent still has several balls in the game. Ignoring Dean's words she positions herself behind the black number eight, throwing the slick-looking young man on the other side a seducing glance. With a flirtatious sparkle in her eyes she allows her low-cut tank top to show a little more cleavage as she bends over. It doesn't go unnoticed with the men in her company, but unlike the guest she's reeling in Dean has the urge to cover his little cousin up. It's clear that it's not just a game of pool that these youngsters are going to be playing tonight.
"Sure you want to aim it like that?", Dean asks, amusingly waiting for her to pick up the double meaning of his words.
A deadly glare comes his way and his smirk reaches even wider. Not granting him another second of her time she focuses on the final ball again and without a trace of doubt Jo pockets it, winning the game. Victoriously she holds up her hand in front of tonight's loser's face, who hands her a twenty dollar bill reluctantly. A chuckle escapes Dean's throat, after which he takes another swig of the sparkling yellow brew called Corona.
"...I'm very sorry, It's been really hectic today with the cattle coming in and it slipped my mind completely".
The tone in Bobby's voice causes Dean to look in his direction as he raises his eyebrows. Jo joins him, leaning against the table while resting her elbows on the rails.
"Any idea what that's about?", Dean wonders, but she shakes her head.
"I'll send someone to pick you up right away".
After having made that promise Bobby eyes his employees, followed by his wife and daughter, hoping that someone is sober enough to keep his obligation. It triggers Dean to nudge Benny, who answers his unspoken question by shaking his head; he's not volunteering and neither is Garth. The skinny stable boy now turns to Ash, catching him peeking into Bobby's cards while his boss is occupied and he elbows him hard. Shrugging his shoulders the guy who is rocking the mullet lets out a innocent 'what?' under his breath. It's obvious, though, that Ash is in no shape to drive, since he already drank half a crate of his favorite Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. It's heading towards eleven PM and after an exhausting couple of days no one is looking forward to acting as a chauffeur. Not to mention that the amount of liquor they consumed might actually jeopardize getting the person Bobby is talking to from A to B.
"Balls!", the boss curses after he hangs up.
"Forgot somethin'?", Ellen concludes from what she picked up as she continues to polish a glass behind the bar.
"Yeah, that new intern from Maine", he mutters as he gets up.
"You didn't!", his wife cries out with big eyes in shock. "That poor girl is at the airport right now?"
"Landed forty-five minutes ago", Bobby admits embarrassed.
"Whoa, wait! New intern?" Dean's eyes slide from Bobby to Ellen and back, unable to follow.
"Did I forget to mention that? She'll be under your supervision", Bobby breaks to him.
"What? I wasn't even notified?!"
His voice pitches a little higher than he anticipated, it must be an effect of the alcohol that is coursing through his bloodstream.
"Oh, don't be such a drama queen", Jo huffs, placing her hand on her hip as she looks at him sideways. "Like you would mind a chick working under you".
A little thrown aback by her bold comment Dean's jaw drops as he stares at her; she's got some nerve! He is about to counter her when Jo's mother already intervenes.
"Joanna Beth", she warns.
"Oh, come on. It's the truth, isn't it?", the young blonde mumbles, stubborn as ever.
Ellen doesn't answer, instead her attention shifts to the man that is moving towards the double door that allows him to exit the lounge.
"And where do you think you're going?"
Bobby turns around, a confused furrow on his forehead.
"Well, to pick up the girl, of course", he returns, stating the obvious.
"Like hell you are! You had three shots of whiskey, Bobby Singer. You're not getting behind the wheel and that's that", Ellen decides with her shoulders back, arms crossed and eyes stern.
Annoyed, but smart enough not to fight the strong-minded woman he married twenty-five years ago, he addresses Dean a hopeful look.
"Don't look at me, this is my fifth beer", he returns, holding his hand up in innocence.
"Same here, chief", Benny joins in, his southern accent thick on his voice.
"I'll go".
Jo straightens up, takes her cowboy hat from the corner of the pool table and puts it on.
"You sure, honey?", her mother checks with her.
"I had one drink, mom. You're not gonna find a more sober person on the ranch at this hour", she claims bored. "Keys?"
That last word was meant for Dean.
"Keys to what?", he questions, suspecting something.
An eyeroll, a sigh. Jo's typical routine when she's done with her cousin.
"Your car, asshat", she returns smartly.
"What's wrong with yours?"
"I have a flat tire, now are you gonna hand me the keys, or what?"
Jo holds up her hand and with an reluctant grunt Dean tosses the keys of his '67 Chevrolet El Camino pickup. Skillfully she catches it, smiles at him in triumph and makes her way to the double doors.
"If I find a scratch on her, I'll kill you!", he shouts loud enough for her to hear it.
"I'd like to see you try!", she yells back, followed by a giggle.
A few moments later the V8 big block under the hood of his beloved car starts running. Jo doesn't even bother to warm his baby up first before she races down the dirt road towards the valley; someone's gonna pay for that. He will deal with her when she gets back, until that time Dean settles down at the round table, watching the poker game. Obviously Ash folds the moment Bobby raises the stakes, leaving the ranch owner with less chips than he hoped to win.
"Can I talk to you for a second?", Dean requests before Garth starts dealing the cards.
Bobby looks at him from under his hat, observing his nephew for a moment. He knows that kid. As a child he was on the ranch more frequently than he was at home and he's been working here since the age of fourteen. The boy is like a son to him, no wonder he can read Dean like a book. And so he gets of his chair and moves away from the crowded table towards the corner of the bar seeking privacy, shadowed by the young man. Both sit down on a stool facing Ellen on the other side of the counter. Her husband doesn't bother to ask her for another beer, because she was on it before he even had the chance to settle in his seat.
"Here you go, boys", she says, setting full bottles on the varnished wood.
Dean thanks her and takes the drink in his hand, clanking it into Bobby's glass who mutters 'cheers' as he does so. After watching Ellen enter the kitchen, the older man shifts his gaze to Dean.
"What's on your mind, son?", he asks.
The young guy adjusts himself a little, preparing for the upcoming conversation. He doesn't like to question his family and boss, this is the part where it gets tricky to keep those two separated. Lately Dean has the oppressive feeling that Bobby might not trust him on taking decisions regarding management of the ranch. Obviously the owner calls the shots, but he used to involve Dean whenever decisions needed to be made. It's bothering him and he needs to get it off his chest.
"Why didn't you tell me you hired an intern?", he wonders.
Bobby grunts softly, averting his eyes to his drink as he circles the bottle on its edge. He knew this talk was coming and instantly he regrets keeping Dean in the dark about recent developments. His nephew is an exceptional horseman, loyal to his family, a trustworthy worker, relentless when it comes to risks and danger and yes, an impulsive womanizer, but there's one thing he isn't and that's stupid. He's Bobby's right hand for a reason, he should have known he would pick up on something.
"Because I knew you wouldn't approve", he admits, taking a sip of his beer.
"If you knew I wouldn't be okay with it, why did you hire her?", Dean likes to know.
"Because she's a free hand, Dean".
"Is she any good? Did you look into her?", the young man eyes him, trying to make out how thorough his boss has been in his research.
It doesn't take long before his uncle's guilty expression gives it away.
"You didn't even interview her, did ya? You just said 'yes'? Look, I know things have been a little difficult since Jeff left, but we're managing fine now", he assures him. "Educating a wannabe cowgirl is actually gonna cost me valuable time and there's a lot of stuff we need to take care of. We have to bring in the two year old stallions, the calves need branding, the young stock has to be moved to the winter pastures...."
Bobby interrupts Dean's ramble by holding up his hand to shush him, intervening the moment he has an opening.
"You don't have to worry about the young stock, I'm selling it".
Stunned Dean stares at him. And when was Bobby planning to tell him this?
"Why the hell would you do that?", he questions unpleasantly surprised.
Before his uncle can answer, Dean can make an estimated guess already. The concerned look in Bobby's eyes when they meet his confirms it; money is tight, very tight. The crisis has laid the ranch in a thick suffocating smog of depth and so far it's not looking like the air is going to clear anytime soon. Hay prices are sky high while his good quarter horses sell for half the price they use to go for. It has been hard to keep their head above waters, but so far they've been able to ride out the economic depression, so he thought. But now that Bobby's telling him that the one year old cattle has to go, it dawns on him how serious the situation is. As Dean's jaw clenches he observes the ice in his glass for a moment, pondering in silence. And just like that the moment of careless happiness he was experiencing a moment ago is gone.
"You wanna sell all of them? Or just the bulls?", he checks.
"All of them", Bobby sighs, downing his drink.
"How you wanna handle that next year? Buy in again? It's gonna cost you a lot", Dean responds, trying to think of another way.
"Right now, all we need to worry about is surviving this year, son".
Bobby pauses, now comes the bit that he wanted to avoid. Drastic measures are necessary for the survival of their home. Maybe the term 'sacrifice' is a better way to describe what he's about to announce.
"That's why I need you to let one of the wranglers go".
Shocked Dean stares at the man in his company. Not looking him in the eye Bobby forks his fingers together, resting his elbows on the counter.
"You want me to fire one of my men?", Dean recaps in disbelief. "No, let me correct that, you want me to fire one of my friends?"
"What you do with your colleagues in your spare time should not influence a lay off", the ranch owner counters.
But Dean disagrees strongly. "That's bullshit and you know it. These guys are practically family, Bobby".
"You think I don't know that, boy? I ain't happy about it either, damn it! You think I'm proud of having to send one of those guys home?"
He nods at the workers, who are laughing loudly as Ash folds his tattooed arms around the mountain of chips that is stacked on the table, reeling the won bet in. Neither him, Benny nor Garth have a clue what is hanging over their heads, but it's probably better that way. It's only now that he understands why Bobby didn't tell him before. The poor man simply didn't want to burden him.
"I have to, for the future of this place, Dean. And I wish I didn't have to ask you to do this, but you know your crew best. You know who's of most use", Bobby explains with empathy.
Dean wants to fight him, he wants to object and argue in every way possible. But he knows how this works and he knows Bobby would do anything to make sure that the boys can keep their jobs. There is no right or wrong answer here, every option behind every door is a bad one. There's nothing the boss can do about it and Dean understands that completely.
"I know, I'll handle it. Just give me a couple of days and I'll let you know", he assures, patting his uncle on the shoulder.
Bobby nods his head, but is unable to break a smile. He's carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, go figure when you have to play God like that. It's exactly the reason why Dean took on the task to fire one of the workers, hoping that it would relieve his surrogate father a bit.
"I need something stronger than this", Bobby mutters, reaching for the Jack Daniels and two whiskey glasses behind the counter.
"You and me both", Dean sighs. "That intern better be good. Do you know anything about her?"
"I know she's a reining rider, pretty damn good too. Not much experience in ranch work, though", Bobby tells him as he pours the liquor.
"Blonde? Brunette? Cute?"
Dean pulls an innocent face as he fishes for more information, but Bobby doesn't reply with a straight answer.
"Forget it, not under my roof", Bobby decides, having seen this play out numerous times already.
"She's staying for six months only so tie a knot in it and keep it in you pants for once".
"If she sticks around that long", Dean scoffs, triggering Bobby to glare at him warningly.
"What?", the young man argues. "We had plenty who went home crying within a week. This work isn't for everyone".
"I know you're not happy about the situation, but do me a favor and just give her a chance, will ya?", Bobby pressures. "She seemed like a go-getter, she might surprise you".
"Maybe, we'll see", Dean muddles as he starts to move towards the group again.
Bobby watches his nephew walk away from him. It takes only a second before the young man has his poker face on, just in time, because Garth signals him to come over. So does he, but his next step shows a hint of hesitation. He turns on the heels of his boots, the thumb of his left hand casually hooked into the beltloop of his jeans.
"What's her name?", Dean asks, narrowing his eyes a little.
Bobby huffs and casts his gaze at him.
"Her name is Y/N", he states.
Dean raises his brow, nodding satisfied. Y/N. Sounds good, has a nice ring to it. Curious he imagines what kind of person would fit a name like that and as a perky smile starts to form on his lips he joins the guys. Bobby can spot the up-to-no-good sparkle in his emerald green eyes and he can't help but to smile into his refilled glass of Jack. He can point a parenting finger at Dean all he wants, if this intern is his type, he's going to charm her right into his bed like he has done with so many female tourists and workers already. Oh well, we've all been young. Being a cowboy too only stakes up the number of woman dwelling at the pretty boy's feet and he never failed to take full advantage of that. Who can blame him, really? He's single, why not make the best of that? For a moment he takes in what's playing before his eyes. His wife having good conversation with a group of guests, the cattle and wrangler crew gathered around the round table where Ash just revealed a full house, causing the men to go out of their minds. It's a nice moment that will make a great memory. Bobby can only hope that those moments keep coming, because now matter how precious, no man can live on memories alone.
