magnifitz
Rain clouds were already looming over the ranch, shielding both the mountain tops in the distance and the morning sun from shining on his mother’s potted plants on the front stoop. Gilbert was almost hoping it’d start raining before he even set out -- it was a very short drive from the farmhouse to the field where he was supposed to be meeting his instructor for the day. He wasn’t sure who it would be -- probably Mr. Fitzgerald, or maybe even his grandfather. Granted, the old man didn’t wander very far from the big ranch house situated on the hill above them, nor did he ever invite his family over. He’d been acting like he’d done them a huge favor by letting seven people, his own family nonetheless, cram themselves into the glorified 3 bedroom shack. It’d once been a barn at some point, Gilbert was certain. A storage shed, maybe. Momma called it “cozy”.
“You, stay,” he told his dog firmly while he climbed into his truck. The pup on the steps had looked eager to climb in after him, but had been blocked at the last second by a firm hand. Like he expected, the drive was short, and he parked just in front of the gate and hopped out. No one for miles except the very stupid looking cows, who all stopped their grazing to inspect the newcomer, then return to their chewing after a few lazy blinks at the young man.
Gilbert, admittedly, knew nothing about ranching. But when he was offered the job, he had maybe extrapolated on his past experiences to make him sound a little bit more competent for the position. At least he didn’t have Clement’s job -- cattle inseminator. That wasn’t exactly the sexiest position around -- at least there was some kind of appeal to being a ranch hand, as long as he didn’t have to get on a horse.  He hung back a while, leaning against the fence, twiddling his thumbs and looking a little apprehensive. Still no one had showed, and he was less than enthused about looking lost and confused before he’d even started his first day.
