Cut and Run 6 - Stars and Stripes

been walking up the driveway he’d stopped to stand on one and look down into it, thinking they all might be over water or something. There was nothing under most of them.
    “What are those?”
    “Texas gates.”
    “What?”
    “They’re cattle guards. They keep the livestock from passing over them. We call them Texas gates.”
    “Cows won’t cross those?” Ty glanced over his shoulder to look at the receding grate. It went from one side of the road to the other, met on both sides by the creek bed. Most were flanked by barbed wire fencing.
    “Cows won’t even cross bridges. But nothing else will cross the cattle guards either. Sheep, goats, pigs. The grates are far enough apart that their feet go through.”
    “So you use them instead of gates you have to open and close. Smart.” Ty glanced over at Zane and plucked a wad of cotton out of the end of the bright green cast on his arm. “So, wait, do those ring the property? Is that how the trespassers are gaining access?”
    “Probably. Stop messing with it.” Zane said as he swatted at Ty’s hands. “I don’t want to take you back to the damn emergency room to have another put on.”
    “You realize I’ll be cutting this thing off with my Strider in about two more days, right?”
    “You cut that thing off, Grady, I will break your other hand.”
    “You can try, Hoss.”
    Zane was quiet a long moment as he stared out the windshield.
    Soon enough, Ty was drumming his fingers against his leg. The truck topped a small rise and the main ranch sprawled in front of them. Three massive barns, two corrals, miles of white fencing leading off over the hills, and the three-story white colonial-style house that towered over the spread. Ty hadn’t taken the time to look around when he’d arrived this morning, too concerned with seeing Zane and finding air conditioning to think of anything else. It was an impressive sight.
    He began whistling “Home on the Range.”
    Zane shot him a glare and reached out to thump his chest. “Asshole,” he said as he steered into the drive.
    “Ow!” As soon as Zane put the truck in park, a man walked out of the barn. “Is that your dad?”
    “What the hell is he doing out here?” Zane opened the door and headed toward the barn, and Ty trailed along behind him at a safe enough distance to give them privacy if they needed it.
    “Dad. You’re supposed to be resting.”
    “I am resting.”
    Zane motioned with his hands, reminiscent of the way Ty would flail sometimes. Ty bit his lip to keep from smiling. Every once in a while he noticed something like that: evidence that they were beginning to pick up characteristics from each other.
    “I needed to get out of the house,” Harrison said, aiming a pointed look at the beautiful mansion.
    “Oh.” Zane glanced at Ty, uneasy.
    Harrison nodded and reached into his pocket for a pouch of tobacco and rolling papers. “She’s planning the Steers and Stripes fundraiser. On the warpath.”
    “You’re fucking kidding me. She’s still having it here? What part of ‘trespassers with guns’ does she not get?”
    “Appearances are everything. And watch your language,” Harrison added, shooting a tired smile Ty’s way.
    Ty frowned and moved closer. “What’s going on?”
    “Every Fourth of July we hold a barbeque fundraiser. We should cancel it after what happened, but my wife refuses.”
    He began packing a cigarette with experienced fingers. Ty opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again with a frown.
    “Until we learn more about what’s going on, there’s no way that party should happen,” Zane spat.
    Ty reached out and set his hand on Zane’s shoulder. “Calm down.”
    Zane looked back at him, fuming.
    Ty squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll sit down and take a look at the problem, see what we can do. The fourth is like a week away; this might not even be an issue by then. And if it is, holding a big party here might turn out to be helpful.”
    “How do you figure?” Zane asked. Any good the last few hours may have done him was gone; he’d turned edgy and combative in what seemed like the blink of an eye. Zane’s mother must have been a real piece of work for the mere mention of one of her ideas to have this effect on Ty’s normally stoic partner.
    Ty glanced at the bright red front door of the mansion and then met Zane’s eyes with a small smile. “It’ll be okay,” he said, voice soft and calm.
    Zane stared at him for a long moment, then