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Post by J. Shaw on Aug 30, 2009 15:50:19 GMT -6
The sun had finally begun to set as they finally reached the ranch. There weren't too many hours without sun on Heimdall, but those hours were always welcome as the heat would finally drop to something more tolerable for the saner folk on the planet.
One of Shaw's men had arrived in a transport big enough for the two extra men to pile on, as well as plenty of room in the back to load up his bike. Shaw decided to leave the bike on the truck for the time being so that he could show Hiram around a little.
"The men all bunk in that building," he motioned towards the bunkhouse. "There are a few empty beds that should be apparent by their lack of personal affects near them. Feel free to choose whichever one suits you best."
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Post by Hiram Cooper on Aug 30, 2009 18:14:28 GMT -6
Hiram took a look over the ranch. It was nice, but more than that, it was maintained. Shaw had clearly put a lot of work into it to keep everything looking and working properly. It was a good sign.
The bunkhouse looked fine as well. Hiram wasn't too picky about where he slept, just as long as he could sleep. He didn't take too kindly to being woken. Most other men didn't either, so they'd be fine. "Alright." He said to Shaw. "Many other men working here?"
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Post by J. Shaw on Aug 30, 2009 22:34:34 GMT -6
"There are four, besides myself, at the moment," Shaw replied, crossing his arms. Sometimes men came and went, on to bigger and better things (in their minds). Others stuck around longer. Sometimes, they were lost to the desert's dangers on the job. He decided not to mention that. Not that it seemed to matter, if Hiram's story about wandering the desert held any weight in reference to his ability to handle himself against said dangers.
"Plus the cook. She lives over there with her two rascals." He motioned towards the small cottage on the other side of the main ranch house. "Other than that... just us and the horses and cows. Oh, and Wayne," he chuckled a little as a large German shepherd came trotting over to meet them. He patted the dog on the head as it panted happily in greeting.
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Post by Hiram Cooper on Aug 30, 2009 23:19:09 GMT -6
Seemed like a nice small number. Hiram preferred smaller operations. It was easier to get lost in the big ones, but it was also easier to find someone you couldn't stand. It was easier to start acting badly. When you were in a small operation, you didn't have much of a choice about your behaviour. This was good for Hiram. He stayed on track better when there was a track for him to follow.
"Hello Wayne." He said, but kept his hands to himself. Dogs didn't like it when Hiram touched them, and to be truthful Hiram didn't much like it when dogs touched him, so they often kept a friendly distance from one another. Wayne seemed like a nice, friendly dog. Hiram would prefer if it stayed that way.
"How many cattle?" Hiram knew it was a large herd, but he didn't know how large. He'd worked at all sorts of joints, from small families with just forty head, to larger operations with nearly seven-hundred head spread out over dozens of pastures. He was guessing Shaw had a hundred or a hundred and fifty head of cattle, and likely just hired extra men to come in and help with branding and castrating in the fall.
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Post by J. Shaw on Sept 2, 2009 18:31:43 GMT -6
"We're at a hundred head right now," Shaw replied. "Just shipped off almost a third of them to a buyer on Terra last month. Business suit type. Owns a massive chain of restaurants and never sets foot in em. That's how most of em are."
He bent down and scratched Wayne behind the ears. "Would you believe I was born a Topper?" He shook his head at the thought. "Horrible existence. They think it's living. It's really not."
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Post by Hiram Cooper on Sept 3, 2009 18:10:27 GMT -6
Hiram took a look at Shaw. He wouldn't have guessed Topper, though thinking about it, it wasn't too much of a shock. Everyone had to come from somewhere. And you didn't always fit in with the people you used to belong to. Hiram was a prime example of this. He and his brothers were different as night and day.
"I never really understood that. You ask a man like that what he did at the end of the day and he'll tell you he made money or 'leveraged' something or other. But for all his talk, he doesn't have anything to show you that he made with his hands, only things he paid other men to make for him."
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Post by J. Shaw on Sept 6, 2009 16:02:56 GMT -6
"Exactly. Though I guess there's gotta be someone good at it. Business and talking, I mean. Whether we understand em or not even like em, we need someone to do it. Sure as hell won't be me, though. Well, at least not without backing it up with my own hands."
The more he thought about it, he realized he was a businessman. But at least he was one who stood behind his product and was actually involved in it's production. Hard work made you far more proud of the product, rather than the paycheck it gained you later on.
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Post by Hiram Cooper on Sept 6, 2009 17:36:23 GMT -6
Hiram nodded. Shaw didn't seem the sort to be able to sit back and let other men do all the work, even on a place this big where he could do just that. Hiram trusted a man who worked with the herd. They understood the things you couldn't tell someone who'd never taken care of cattle, the delays or accidents that could slow things up.
Now he knew the herd size he was dealing with, and where he would be staying. There was just the question about the defence methods. "When I get up tomorrow, where should I go looking to find weapons to help me take care of your dragon problem?" He didn't quite know what Shaw's ranch would be packing. Most ranches he'd been on used some variation of the .600 Overkill, or the .650 Annihilator, depending on which gun company they preferred. Both shell sizes could punch a hole straight through a dragon's head. Others preferred rocket launchers, though they were dangerous and messy. Hiram was a knife man, first and foremost, and a gun-man second. He was hoping it was a rifle he would be handling, though he'd handle whatever he was told to.
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Post by J. Shaw on Sept 8, 2009 23:59:40 GMT -6
"You should ask some of the guys what they can spare. They've all got their own collections to their own preferences for taking on some of the desert baddies. I'm sure at least one of them will have a gun or two they'd be willing to temporarily part with."
He gave Wayne one last pat before letting the dog run off once more, and then he stood up, dusting his hands off on his pants. "Did you need anything to eat? There aren't usually leftovers from dinner with all us guys, but I can probably get Martha to rustle up something from the kitchen."
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Post by Hiram Cooper on Sept 9, 2009 0:11:28 GMT -6
No dedicated weapon? Well, that might be a bit of a problem. Hopefully the other men would have something they could spare, something better than a pistol. No point in going up against a dragon using only that. Though, there was a chance Hiram wouldn't even see a dragon. He might be enough to ward them off on his own.
No point in telling Shaw that. So he just nodded and made a note to himself to see about getting a rifle in case there wasn't anything to be spared.
He judged his hunger. Hiram found he wasn't hungry at all, but he couldn't tell if he was full, or if he had passed the point where your body forgets that it's hungry. He had done it in the past. But somehow he had a feeling that he had eaten something. "I'm good. I'll just find a bunk and get some sleep."
It would be good to sleep in a bed after being out in the desert. He could probably sleep a solid twelve hours and be up just in time for breakfast.
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Post by J. Shaw on Sept 11, 2009 12:58:23 GMT -6
"Alright," Shaw nodded. "We're up at six these days. You'd be best to rest off your desert wanderings before then." He made a mental note to head into town to make a stop at the arms shop at the spaceport tomorrow.
He stuck out his hand once more for a hand shake. "Well, good night then. Welcome aboard, Mr Cooper."
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Post by Hiram Cooper on Sept 11, 2009 14:21:57 GMT -6
Hiram shook Shaw's hand, "Thank you Mr Shaw. Good night." He adjusted his pack and guitar and headed off toward the bunk.
A few of the other men were in, a couple playing cards and another reading with a padd. Hiram had a padd once, but he'd lost it during one of his walkabouts. Never really saw any need to replace it. He picked a bunk far enough from the others, but not so far that it was rude, and settled down on it. After sleeping on dirt and rocks, it was like lying on air.
He was out a few minutes later, dead to the world and still fully dressed. Hiram dreamed.
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