Chapter Text
MOOD BOARD:
The Winter of 1954.
In preparation for winter, Seonghyeon did the necessary chores around the ranch. He tended to the sheep, cleaning out their pen, replacing the flooring with clean straw, and made sure the barn had proper ventilation to flush out the ammonia and carbon dioxide.
He collected crops from his greenhouse and chopped logs for firewood, enough to last him all winter long in his small, weathered cabin, as smoke rose out of his tired stone chimney. He did necessary trades with other farmers and ranchers, taking his 1949 Ford Station Wagon loaded with the last of his sheep’s wool and exchanged it for nutrition and new tools.
After a day’s hard work—and just like every other day of hard work—he settled into his brown La-Z-Boy recliner, an outline of his body permanently fixed into its worn cushions. Around him were books and old crosswords for entertainment, scattered atop colonial American furniture left by the previous owner of the ranch. He switched on the radio, his favorite source of entertainment, tuning into the latest radio drama.
“You’re tuned into CBS,” a man with a smooth, charismatic voice trilled. “Tonight, folks, we’ve got a special episode coming to you from the crime-infested streets of Dodge City. Join Marshal Matt Dillon in GUNSMOKE tonight—right after the commercials.”
“Not that damn cowboy show again,” Seonghyeon grouched, listening to some advertisement ramble about how its refrigerators were somehow a symbol of patriotism, followed by the next advertisement, which listed the health benefits of cigarettes. Annoyingly enough, he got a sudden craving for one, grabbing a cigarette off the end table, plucking it between his lips, and lighting it up. He smoked while he waited for the commercials to end, then finished his cig a few minutes into the episode. Buzzed on nicotine, Seonghyeon melted into his recliner.
That night, he listened to the adventures of Marshal Matt Dillon while he dozed off, exhaustion seeping heavy into his bones, while Lady, his six-year-old Australian Kelpie, curled at his feet.
The boy wore a blue sheepskin, fur-padded parka, dirty brown trousers, and leather boots with spurs on the back of the heels, topped off with a battered, brown cowboy hat—and from what Seonghyeon could tell, this kid hadn’t seen a bath in a long while.
The porch light was dim. Seonghyeon made a mental note to switch out the lightbulb for a better, brighter one.
Seonghyeon’s second—and more pressing—thought was: who dares interrupt my sleep?
Strangers were dangerous. Even the kind with big eyes resembling a young doe, and a nice boyish face Seonghyeon hadn’t seen in a long time. Oh, Korean? Nevertheless, still a stranger.
Seonghyeon tightened his hold on the concealed rifle behind the door, a common household bolt-action rifle, and gritted his teeth. “What do you want, kid?”
“Sorry to disturb you, sir.” The boy lifted his hat, holding it against his chest in a desperate display of manners—though he’d lost those manners the second he knocked on Seonghyeon’s cabin door while the moon was still high and bright in the sky. It was Lady's frantic barking at the intruder that had actually woken him. Not the best first impression.
“See, I woulda done the proper thing and waited til mornin’ to ask, but my horse got spooked on the way back to camp an’ kicked me off. I got separated from her, but I trust she's okay—God, I hope she's alright—but there ain't no way I'm findin' her til this storm passes." For a second, the boy stopped only to take a deep breath. "I don’t got many supplies on me, and I sure don’t got a way to keep warm tonight. The roads are worse up ahead—few feet o' snow. I ain’t… I ain’t sure what to do, sir. So I was hopin' you’d let me stay the night in yer barn—I-I’d pay you back, of course! So, if we could strike a—”
Seonghyeon slammed the door in the kid’s face.
He’ll probably go to hell for that—love thy neighbor, right? Seonghyeon pressed his ear against the door, listening for signs of life on the other side. He heard the boy sigh before he muttered something like, “I came off too strong didn’t I? Heck, now I’m gon' freeze to death!”
Was this the boy’s tactic? Saying these words with the hopes that Seonghyeon would listen and take pity on him? Well, it wasn’t going to work—
“Funny. I ain’t never seen a pretty rancher before.”
Pretty?
Seonghyeon slowly creaked open the door. He glared at the boy. “Why do you keep talking to yourself?”
The boy grinned, like he was waiting for the inevitable moment Seonghyeon would come back. “Helps me compart-ah-mentalize.”
“Oh?” Seonghyeon raised an unimpressed brow at the boy’s butchered pronunciation. “I’m surprised a cowboy knows such a big word.”
“It’s a common mishaps that we’re all just silly bumpkins who only know how to shoot a revolver and wrangle livestock.”
“I think you mean misconception.”
The boy’s brows furrowed, blinking a few times. “S’what I said.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So are you gonna let me stay, sir?”
“What makes you think that?”
“You opened the door again.” He gestured with his head, decisive. “And you haven’t shot me yet.”
“Yet is the keyword,” Seonghyeon said with a huff, mortified when the boy’s grin only widened. He huffed again. “I opened the door because you were talking to yourself and refusing to leave my property. Are you asking to get shot?”
“Again, sorry to bother. But if I leave, where do I go?”
“That’s not my problem, though, is it?”
“It should be. Jesus Christ said to—”
“I don’t care what Jesus says.” Seonghyeon pinched the bridge of his nose. What an ignorant, annoying little shit. Of course, he didn't say that out loud. “Go be someone else’s problem.”
“Ain’t nobody else but you for dozens of miles.”
That was true. That was the exact reason why Seonghyeon had settled here years ago. And now that same unlucky reason was why this cowboy ended up on Seonghyeon’s steps.
Unfortunately, Seonghyeon was still human. He'd still feel a morsel of guilt if, a few days later, he found the kid buried dead in the snow. Leaning against the door frame, Seonghyeon heaved a heavy sigh. I should just save us both the trouble and shoot him.
“What’s your name, kid?”
The boy’s face lit up, taking the question as a sign of victory. He shouldn’t be celebrating so soon.
“It’s Keonho, sir!”
Seonghyeon offered the boy—Keonho—a bedroll for when he slept in the barn surrounded by his sheep.
Keonho’s eyes widened at the sight. “Woah, a bed?!” he exclaimed, accepting the heavy bedding and rolling it out on the straw floor.
The sheep all hovered at one end of the barn, wary of the new arrival.
“I woulda been fine sleeping on straw—thank you, sir. God bless.”
The kid was terribly polite, even Seonghyeon had to admit. Politeness had probably gotten Keonho far in life, considering how bold and fearless he acted around a complete stranger.
“Don't try anything funny. I've got a rifle that I'm not afraid to use, and a Kelpie who'll alert me before you've even set foot near my cabin. You’re only here for one night—got that? By morning, you better be on your way back to your camp.”
Keonho nodded quickly, easily. “Yes, sir! You have my word.”
Seonghyeon offered a curt nod of his own and turned on his heel, heading for the barn's threshold. Before he could leave, Keonho called out one more time, “Could I get yer name?”
Seonghyeon paused, hand on the door. He really shouldn't.
“Sean,” he told him. Stupid. “Now get some sleep.”
Keonho must’ve taken it literally when Seonghyeon told him to be on his way to camp by morning because Keonho wasn’t there when Seonghyeon came to check on him during the first rays of daylight.
The bedroll was left behind, rolled back up and holstered in its leather straps. On the straw was a dollar and some pocket change.
The boy's voice rang in his head—“I’d pay you back of course!” Apparently Keonho had meant it, going as far as to empty his pockets with the last of what he had. Judging by his dire situation, showing up at Seonghyeon's ranch in the middle of the night, Keonho needed that money more than he did.
Other than that, there was no sign that Keonho had ever been here. Good.
Seonghyeon proceeded with the rest of his morning tasks, letting the sheep out onto the snowy pasture. With their thick fleece coats, the sheep preferred being outside rather than trapped in a stuffy barn, so he let them roam the fenced interior all day long.
The thought of whether Keonho made it safely back to his camp or fallen victim to winter's cold grasp crossed his mind several times before he inevitably shook those thoughts away.
Good riddance, he told himself as a week went by, then another, until all that was left of Keonho was just another memory.
Cowboys are troublesome anyway. Seonghyeon had had enough dealings with them over the years to know that.
Boys like Keonho don’t stick around long.
Winter was getting worse.
On the radio, Seonghyeon listened to the host talk about arctic air blowing down from Canada and blizzards brewing not too far from himself, some fifty miles off. Pretty soon, all those storms would encroach on Seonghyeon’s acres.
He had to prepare.
He went around his cabin, fixing spots of dry rot and replacing insulation where he felt a draft of air until the coldness could no longer creep inside. He made sure his backup generator was still working in the event of a countryside blackout. He checked the barn roof for leaks, making sure his sheep would stay dry at night. There were areas around the fences that needed repairing, too. But those repairs would have to wait until spring. Seonghyeon was already spread thin as it was, and as of now, he couldn't manage the upkeep.
His days became shorter, the quickly descending sunset leaving him with a gnawing unease. The unease never went away.
One day, while Seonghyeon was out pumping water from the well, he got the strange feeling that he was being watched. It was the kind of intuition that had never failed him in the past, which was concerning since humans rarely came out to Seonghyeon’s neck of the woods.
Lady was somewhere past a hill, probably playing with a sheep, not around in the event that Seonghyeon needed to fight. And unfortunately for Seonghyeon, he didn’t have his rifle on hand.
He turned carefully on his heel, not trying to alarm the intruder.
What greeted him was something entirely unexpected.
“Hiya, Sean!”
Keonho hung off the side of his rickety fence, about a hundred feet away, waving enthusiastically, his body language casual as if they were old pals reuniting.
He’s back. Something foreign stirred inside Seonghyeon’s body at just the sight of him, a thunderstorm confusing his senses. Wait.
Why the hell is he back?
Seonghyeon almost dropped his bucket of water from shock. With one arm, he wiped away the sweat from his brow, squinting hard at the boy. A brown and white-spotted horse with a lean, graceful stature whinnied in the distance behind him, before leaning down her long neck to bite at the snow. At least Keonho found his horse.
He set his bucket down and stalked closer to Keonho, who was now certifiably an intruder.
Maybe he came back for his money. Now Seonghyeon sincerely wished he had his rifle on him. What if Keonho was armed?
Upon closer inspection, Keonho was wearing the same clothes as last time, his skin caked in dirt, unruly hair poking out underneath his cowboy hat. No gun in sight.
“What do you want this time, kid?”
Keonho smiled. “I ought to thank you for hostin’ me, you know, for last time.”
Seonghyeon perched his hands on his hips. “You already did so with your pocket change.”
“I know, I know. I wasn’t tryna come back. You see, I was headed further north before I got caught in one of them snowstorms. Had to turn ‘round before I nearly freezed to death—barely made it out with all my parts still intact.”
“How is any of that my concern?”
“Well…” Keonho lifted his hat, his hair sticking out at all odd angles, and fidgeted with the brim as he held it against his chest. Here came the puppy dog eyes. “I ain’t got money to rent a room and ev-ry time I build a camp, it gets destroyed by another storm. So I was hopin’—since you were nice and all to me, sir—that you’d… let me stay again.”
“Stay?” For the first time in months, Seonghyeon let out a hearty laugh. “Jesus, you’re crazy.”
Keonho’s lips pulled into a strained smile, half a grimace and half sheepish. “Had to shoot my shot, right?—not literally, of course—I actually lost my revolver a year ago, well, not lost, I was robbed. But yeah. Please don't shoot me.”
“You’re crazy,” Seonghyeon repeated, this time with finality as he shook his head.
Still, Keonho didn’t give up. “I noticed some spots on yer fence that need fixin’. I’m a bit of a handyman, myself. I can fix it.”
“I don’t need a handyman—”
“I’ll do whatever work needs to be done. Your least favorite tasks, the dirty work—heck, whatever you want. I’m real good at ranch work; I can do just about everything, and, even better, you don’t need to pay me!”
Seonghyeon clenched his jaw. Employing cowboys wasn’t something that he did. Seonghyeon could manage just fine on his own.
But the days were getting shorter, and Seonghyeon wasn’t getting any younger.
“How long?” he grunted.
“Pardon?”
Seonghyeon sighed heavily. “Did you lose your ears? How long are you staying?”
Keonho beamed, his body slumping with relief, with the cowboy hat going right back on his head. “Oh—oh, yeah! Just until the storm passes, I promise.”
“The storm could last weeks,” Seonghyeon droned, his voice laced with annoyance.
“Uh, I know… but I won’t take up much space. I just need a place for me and Delilah to sleep.”
Seonghyeon eyed the horse before looking back at Keonho. “That’s a sweet name for a horse that kicked you off and left you to freeze.”
Keonho chuckled. “She's a filly—well, a mare now, but she'll always be a filly to me. And she's got a temper, that’s for sure.” He grinned, unfazed. “Must be why we get along so well.”
Seonghyeon stared at Keonho for several long, analytical seconds. The cowboy wasn't half-bad looking. Actually, he was quite attractive. A little rugged, rough around the edges, with a boyish look—handsome, ridiculously so. Good thing he wasn't ugly. Seonghyeon didn't want to spend his days looking at an ugly mug.
But he talked too much. Seonghyeon's ears would suffer the brunt of it.
“If you want to stay, you’re going to have to abide by my rules.” Even as he made that announcement, his thoughts contradicted him: I'm making a horrible, horrible mistake.
Keonho shrugged, expression bright. “Okay, sure! M'the best rule follower, I'll prove it to ya.”
1. Pull your weight, and you get fed.
2. Absolutely no sleeping in my cabin.
3. No personal questions. We’re not friends.
And most importantly:
4. Once winter’s over, you’re gone.
Those were the rules Seonghyeon made for Keonho—the only way this arrangement would work—to which the younger boy eagerly nodded along, like he was taking a mental note of every single rule, word-for-word. Afterward, Seonghyeon showed him around the ranch, introducing him to what would be his tasks for the foreseeable weeks: shoveling manure, drawing up fresh water, and, unfortunately, fixing the damn fence because it needed to get done.
As promised, when the sky darkened, Seonghyeon brought Keonho inside his cabin to provide him a hearty meal. He reheated beef stew from the previous night on the fireplace, serving Keonho a warm bowl at the small dining table. A small iron light fixture hung overhead, spilling fluorescent light over the table.
“Beef? But you ain’t got cattle.”
“I have money, kid. I can buy cow or trade wool for it,” Seonghyeon explained like he was five. He had beef in his freezer that would last him several months—well, probably only a few months now if Seonghyeon was feeding an extra person. “And I’m not a big fan of mutton. My sheep aren't for eating.”
“Amen.” Keonho hummed, digging into his stew with a spoon. “Mutton is too gamey for my taste. You ever try squirrel?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Well, it ain't gamey.” Keonho spoke with his mouth full, and Seonghyeon grimaced. “Once you’ve traveled hundreds of miles, movin’ state to state, with nothing to eat but yesterday's rations, you’ll never turn back. Learn how to fix a couple traps, and you’re eating the next best thing to chicken for dinner.”
“You been on the road for a while?”
Keonho smiled. “Me and Delilah make our rounds—was in Wyoming ‘round two years ago. I’m hoping to get out of the shepherd business and into the rodeo.”
The rodeo, huh? Keonho looked like the type of down-on-their-luck cowboy who thought the rodeo, of all things, sick and twisted, would solve all his problems. “You’ve worked with sheep before?” Seonghyeon settled on.
“Damn, Sean. This an interview? I thought we was startin' to get along.”
“If I'm letting you stay on my ranch, I’d like to know the full scope of your qualifications.”
“You dun sound like a rancher,” Keonho started, pointing his spoon at Seonghyeon, a challenge in his eye. “You sound like a city boy.”
“I don’t care what you think.”
“Fair enough.” Keonho shrugged, easily switching topics. “But yeah, I know my way around a flock. You know Tommy’s operation down in Baker?”
Seonghyeon nodded.
“I spent the summer herdin' his sheep to some buyers.”
“So why are you here and not at Tommy’s?”
“I…” Keonho squared his jaw, the first sign of contempt he'd expressed since he first arrived. “We don’t get along no more.” He took another bite of the stew, shrugging. “Differences.”
“Differences? Why do you cowboys stir up trouble everywhere you go?"
Keonho couldn't hold back. “I don't, I promise! He’s an asshole. Promised me a good dime and paid me dirt poor and called me mean names while he was at it. I ain’t ever goin' back to him and rightly so.”
“You’re not getting a dime from me, though,” Seonghyeon pointed out, and Keonho shrugged.
“We made a deal. This is different.”
“Sure.”
The rest of their dinner passed with mindless chatter from Keonho, as if he had weeks of words he needed to get out, while Seonghyeon kept quiet, always keeping his mouth full so he had an excuse not to talk. Unease settled underneath Seonghyeon's skin. He couldn't remember the last time he had dined with someone in his own home, at the same table he sat alone for several years, now lively with just the addition of this one talkative, handsome stranger.
By the time they finished their meal, they headed out into the cold night to set up Keonho’s bedroll inside the barn.
“Thank you again, Sean.”
Seonghyeon nodded and left the barn without a word, dark brown eyes trailing him from behind.
Keonho was a diligent worker, Seonghyeon soon found out. He woke up early every morning—although not earlier than Seonghyeon’s four AM start—and got to work letting the sheep out, scraping down the barn floors, and shoveling animal shit.
It was late into the afternoon when Seonghyeon called Keonho back to the cabin. He wrinkled his nose the second the cowboy stepped inside. “Jesus, you need a bath.”
“I haven’t bathed since before Winter started. The river’s been too cold,” Keonho said, his bottom lip sticking out into something reminiscent of a pout. Not quite a cowboy-like manner, in Seonghyeon’s opinion. “I’da freeze to death, you know, and that’s not the way I’d like to go. So yeah, I’ve gotten used to the stink.”
Seonghyeon ignored his statement, crossing his arms. “Starting now, you’re taking a bath. At least once a week. And eat something before you start working. I don’t want to come outside and find you face-down in the snow because you passed out from malnourishment. I have more than enough food to feed the both of us three meals a day.”
Keonho’s jaw dropped, gaping at him for a few seconds. He took his cowboy hat off, clenching it to his heart. “That’s real nice of you, Sean. God bless you. You—” Keonho licked his lips, blinking owlishly at him. “You act mean. But you do care, you’ve got a soft heart—”
“Listen, kid. It’s not about me caring. You’re no use to me dead; you become an inconvenience.”
“Still,” Keonho insisted, unbothered, “most ranchers I come across wouldn’t care to feed or bathe me. I could look hungry n’ smell like shit for weeks and they still won’t bat an eye.”
Seonghyeon thought about what Keonho said, how this young man had been on the road for a while, at the mercy of whoever he came across, alone for who knew how long. For a brief second, he wondered how old he was. No, it didn’t matter.
“There’s food on the table—bread and butter,” Seonghyeon said, gesturing to the kitchen table. “Eat something, then I’ll bring out the wash tub.”
Keonho smiled, covering his messy hair with his cowboy hat and tipping the brim appreciatively. “Thank you, Sean.”
After heating buckets of water on the fireplace and filling the tub, Seonghyeon let Keonho bathe himself in peace, and instead, started shoveling a pathway through the snow from the cabin to the barn. Lady trailed behind him, occasionally jumping in the snow, biting at the falling snowflakes, and shaking off the snow from her thick coat.
About an hour later, Seonghyeon returned to the cabin to find Keonho in a fresh wool shirt and faded blue jeans, seated on the withered floorboards, angling his head at the brick fireplace to dry his damp hair. Remnants of nicotine singed the air, while a Dean Martin song crooned from the radio.
“I like music,” Keonho murmured, arms wrapped around his knees with his eyes fixed on the fire, the wood crackling and popping in the flames. Beside him was an ashtray with a couple of snuffed-out cigarettes. “I don’t hear it too often.”
He looked small like that, vulnerable. Seonghyeon felt something twist behind his ribs at the sight.
“I usually listen to dramas,” Seonghyeon said, a little gruff. He shrugged off his winter coat, hanging it on the rack by the door to dry.
“Yeah?” Keonho turned around, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “What’s popular right now?” The fire cast him in an orange glow, rounding the rough edges of his face. His skin was golden, no longer caked with dirt—a great improvement from before.
“Cowboy dramas,” Seonghyeon said, the displeasure obvious in his tone.
Keonho smiled at that. “Not fond of my kind, hm?” Seonghyeon didn’t answer. Keonho didn’t seem to mind, and continued, “Folks like makin' stories about us, don’t they? But they don’t like coexisting with us.” His voice dropped an octave. “They like seein' us risk our lives for the rodeo, but anytime we show ‘em we’re hard workers just like the rest of ‘em, they scoff and look at us funny. It’s like they think we’re less than human.”
Seonghyeon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. After years of having conversations only relating to ranching or the weather, he realized he wasn’t that great of a conversationalist. That shouldn’t matter, though. It wasn’t his job to entertain Keonho.
“Wanna share a smoke and listen for a while?” Keonho asked, holding up his pack of beaten-up cigarettes, and nodded at the radio. “I'll be quiet, I swear.”
That sounded... too nice. It was scary.
“No, I’m going to make dinner now.” He didn’t spare Keonho’s handsome face a second glance and headed for the kitchen, occupying his hands by pulling a slab of thawed steak from the fridge and potatoes from the pantry.
“Okay, Sean.”
The next month passed with an established routine. Seonghyeon always kept fresh logs piled in the fireplace, prepared food three times a day, a light breakfast consisting of bread and vegetables followed by a much heavier lunch and dinner, while Keonho fulfilled his side of the deal, completing all the dirty work and getting started on the fence repairs that once inconvenienced Seonghyeon.
Lady quickly took a liking to Keonho, following him around the ranch, eagerly wagging her tail and fetching every stick he threw for her. Seonghyeon watched it all unfold from the kitchen window while he prepared a marinade for the steak they’d have that night, Keonho’s words drifting back to him: “Yer a good cook. Best food I’ve had in ages—actually, prolly ever.”
One part of their routine—and the most surprising—was the radio show they’d listen to once they wound down for the night, the newest adventures of Marshal Matt Dillon.
“He ain’t a cowboy,” Keonho had commented the first time they listened, his accent getting thicker by the second.
“I know.”
“Just ‘cause he dresses like a cowboy don’ mean he is one. He a lawman.”
“Keonho, I know.”
“Sorry, am I ruinin’ yer show?”
“You are.”
After Seonghyeon graciously allowed Keonho to ruin his La-Z-Boy nights with his comments—“I always thought them ugly-ass lazy boy chairs were only for grandpas and pot-bellied drunks” —he’d had enough and banished Keonho back to the barn. Apparently Seonghyeon was getting old because he didn’t have nearly as much energy as Keonho did, nor did he have the patience to deal with it.
“Ya know… it gets real cold in the barn,” Keonho said one night, taking a slow drag of his cigarette, before he peered at the older man with a deliberate look that was less than innocent, smoke curling past his lips.
“That’s what a bedroll is for,” Seonghyeon quickly dismissed, evading his gaze. Keonho had never complained before, so why now?
“It’s lonely.”
Lonely. Seonghyeon’s face twitched. So is my life. Get fucking used to it.
“I already told you my rules: No. Sleeping. In. My. Cabin,” Seonghyeon said with stern punctuation. “I thought you said you were a good rule follower.”
“Gosh, fine. Forget I asked. Clearly you have a stick up yer ass.”
“Clearly you forget who’s housing, feeding, and bathing you. Learn to show some respect, or I’ll kick you out into the blizzard myself.”
Keonho ducked his head, his hand curling into a fist until his knuckles turned white, embarrassment and chagrin written in the pinch of his brows and the hard set of his jaw. In the end, he didn’t offer an apology, merely stamped out his cig and shot up from his seat, darting out of the cabin.
“Yeah, run away with your tail between your legs,” Seonghyeon called after him. In the next second, he muttered to himself, “Goddamn cowboys.”
The air between them changed after that—a good change, Seonghyeon would argue. Although, Keonho was still talkative, still a bother, but at least he was less intrusive with his comments. He tip-toed around Seonghyeon, as if he were actually convinced he’d be thrown out into the cold if he made one wrong step. He also stopped calling him Sean.
Some days, Keonho would rather ride around on Delilah than talk to him, wielding a lasso which Seonghyeon always frowned at, roping a few of his sheep for what Keonho called “rodeo practice.” Seonghyeon just rolled his eyes and looked the other way.
On a different day, Keonho ambled up to him with a determined look, brimming with energy. “Sir, I’m done fixing yer fence. Would ya like to take a look?”
It looked fine. Seonghyeon hardly gave it a second glance before he gave the younger boy a brusque nod. “Good enough.”
The winds were starting to pick up, shaking the nearby pines and rattling the doors of the barn. A storm. Seonghyeon had listened to the radio that morning, and the weatherman had said something about a blizzard hitting Central Oregon. Seonghyeon reasoned that he was far enough north that the storm wouldn’t hit him. Clearly, the brooding clouds in the distant sky suggested otherwise.
Seonghyeon brought his hand to his mouth, blowing a sharp whistle to signal Lady, who was playing in the snow further down the field, that it was time for her to do her job. “Let’s get the sheep in the barn. I’m not taking any chances.”
“Looks like a mean storm's comin',” Keonho observed. “Delilah will be spooked.”
“Yeah.” Seonghyeon clicked his tongue, giving Lady commands to herd the flock.
“I dunno. You think the barn will be enough to hold her?”
“Delilah? She’ll be fine. When I had Charlie, my old stallion, he held up just fine whenever the weather took a turn.”
For some reason, Keonho’s face lit up. “You had a stallion named Charlie?!”
“Yeah… I made the move to get an automobile after he passed. Why?”
“‘Cause that’s my English name. ‘S what I’ve gone by pretty much my whole life. Funny coincidence.”
Oh. For a second, Seonghyeon wondered where Keonho was from, his life story, and how the hell he ended up on Seonghyeon’s ranch of all places.
“I don’t care, kid.”
Instead, he focused on wrangling his damn sheep.
Later that night, Seonghyeon was woken up—not by the vicious howl of the wind—but by Lady’s barking. Someone was at the door, and Seonghyeon had no doubt who it was. He crept out of bed, toeing on his slippers, and made his way to the living room unhurried.
He swung the door open without needing to peer through the window. “What the hell do you want—oh, God.”
The boy had his arms wrapped around him, the tips of his hair frosted, his clothing drenched, a puddle forming at his feet like he’d been standing on Seonghyeon’s porch for a concerning amount of time, waiting for Seonghyeon to wake up from his sleep and answer the door.
Keonho shivered, stuttering through an explanation, “D-Delilah guh-got out… sh-she broke y-yer doors… I-I got ‘er back.”
“Keonho, what the fuck?!” Seonghyeon quickly dragged the boy inside. It was below freezing outside and Keonho was drenched head to toe. His skin had gone deathly pale, too. He ushered Keonho toward the fireplace. His heart started to race. “Stupid, stupid boy. What were you thinking?”
“I-I boarded… the doors… sheep are fuh-fine.”
“I don’t give a shit about that. Take off your clothes now—you’re hypothermic. I—I’ll get blankets.”
By the time Seonghyeon returned, carrying nearly his entire supply of linens in his arms, Keonho had only managed to get his boots off, still clad in his wet clothing with numb fingers failing to undo his shirt buttons.
“You stupid boy—move.” He dropped the linens on the floor, swatted Keonho’s hands away, and started undoing the buttons himself. He peeled the longsleeved shirt from Keonho’s damp body—Jesus, his skin was icy to the touch. I should’ve listened to him, what he said about— “Goddamn idiot. Stupid, stupid, stupid—who goes out into a blizzard in just trousers and a long-sleeve?” He unzipped Keonho’s jeans, which happened to be the hardest thing to get off. The pants had practically frozen themselves to Keonho’s legs. The younger boy must’ve fallen in the snow while trying to get Delilah.
“Lay down by the fire,” Seonghyeon ordered once he stripped off Keonho’s underwear, doing his due diligence to not look down there. He tossed the wet clothes in a pile and picked up a dry blanket, laying it over the floor for Keonho to lie on, before draping several blankets over Keonho’s naked body.
“Th-thank you.”
Seonghyeon took a towel and began tousling Keonho’s hair dry. “Save your breath, Keonho. Focus on getting warm.” Once his hair was adequately dry, he rolled a wool cap over Keonho’s head. He looked so painfully young like this. Frost-bitten cheeks, big eyes, long fluttering lashes, plush lips. Seonghyeon had to take a second to collect himself. “Is that better? Are you dry enough?”
Keonho nodded—then quickly changed his mind—and shook his head. “Dry… but still c-cold.” He gazed at Seonghyeon, a pleading look in his eye.
No, I shouldn’t—
“Goddammit.” Seonghyeon began stripping off his own plaid pajamas, grumbling under his breath, “You’re going to owe me for this. I’m only doing it because I don’t want to wake up to a dead body on my floor come morning.”
Keonho just watched him silently, staying as still as a corpse while Seonghyeon folded back the covers and slid under. Seonghyeon swallowed. He couldn’t just lie next to him; that wasn’t an efficient way to transfer body heat.
He rolled over, sliding a leg between Keonho’s cold thighs, and caught the faint trace of a smirk on Keonho’s face. “Shut up,” he snapped before Keonho could say anything smart, pressing their bare torsos together. “Fuck, you’re cold.”
“You’re warm,” Keonho mumbled, using what little body strength he had left to wrap his arms around Seonghyeon’s middle. “Thank you.”
Seonghyeon scoffed. “You say thank you too much.” He watched Keonho’s sly grin widen, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners, his features softened by the warm orange glow emanating from the fire—then decided he couldn’t look at him anymore, and pressed his face into the crook of Keonho’s shoulder.
The boy’s body was rough and scarred, with sharp collarbones and toned muscle built from years of hard labor. Keonho wasn’t weak, far from it. When he first came to Seonghyeon, some odd months ago in the dead of night, his cheeks had been hollow, his body underfed and overworked. Now, after eating Seonghyeon’s cooking three times a day since the start of winter, his cheeks had grown fuller, softer, more boyish—handsome. A small part of Seonghyeon hoped that the younger boy would stay that way for all the long winters to come, that he wouldn’t come close to death’s doorstep, or frighten Seonghyeon with his deathly pale skin and cold limbs.
Boys like Keonho weren’t made for winters. Maybe that was why Seonghyeon took him in.
“You warm too?” Keonho's chest rumbled below him.
Seonghyeon nodded, nosing at Keonho's neck. He smelled like earth and cigarette smoke with a hint of Seonghyeon's soap intermingled.
“Good.” Keonho's arms rested against his back, a comfortable weight, as they succumbed to their shared body heat. “Stay here.”
Sleep had never come faster.
“The largest winter storm to strike in the last five years has taken the lives of three young men. Officials say two of the men were cowhands, otherwise known as cowboys. Our prayers rest with them and their families...
“Now for the positive news, folks. Looks like winter is over and sunshine is here to stay. So start preparing for spring's harvest, make sure your kids are ready for school, and…”
Keonho was sick, and Seonghyeon wasn’t surprised.
He dug through his pantry to find his long-forgotten stores of canned soup, serving Keonho a bowl of chicken noodle soup every meal, or, at least, whenever Keonho could stomach it. If he wouldn't eat, Seonghyeon tried a home remedy instead, forcing hot tea mixed with lemon and honey down his throat.
Keonho’s sickness lasted ten days. Seonghyeon gave up his bed, letting Keonho take it while he slept on the La-Z-Boy instead, listening to Keonho toss and turn and babble through the fever, feeble and flushed, as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
He never realized how quiet his ranch was until Keonho stopped talking.
With Keonho unable to work, Seonghyeon returned to his usual way of life—a one-man team handling all the heavy, dirty work, keeping the ranch afloat. The only thing different from his routine was the addition of a sick boy to look after. Instead of radio nights, he sat beside Keonho, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead, gauging the state of his fever. And, with a bucket of lukewarm water he heated at his feet, he doused a rag and dragged it over Keonho’s dewy skin.
“So much work for a stupid boy,” Seonghyeon would say once he was finished, and Keonho would answer with a whimper, or a broken “thank you.”
You’re not the first sick person I’ve had to take care of.
Once Keonho started eating his soup, speaking in full sentences, and looking a lot less like… death, only then did Seonghyeon finally relax.
Tipping back his head, Keonho slurped down the last of his soup. He let out a pleased sigh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“You must’ve been hungry,” Seonghyeon said, taking the empty bowl from Keonho’s hands and offering a glass of water, which the younger quickly gulped down. “You barely ate a bite in over a week, now look at you.”
“Yeah,” Keonho replied with a toothy grin, probably blissfully unaware of all the distress Seonghyeon had endured since he fell sick. “I could eat a whole cow if I wanted.”
“Please don’t. You’ll rupture your stomach if you do.”
Keonho’s mouth fell open. “Wait, really?”
Seonghyeon chuckled, the first moment of relief he’d felt in a while. “I know you have a big appetite, but your stomach is small. Stick to soups and stews for now before you take on a cow. Okay?”
Pursing his lips, Keonho nodded. “Okay, hyung.”
Seonghyeon stilled. His breath caught in his throat. “Hyung?”
Keonho smiled, then laughed until his body shook. Seonghyeon’s face must’ve done something stupid to warrant that reaction. “Don’t look so surprised. I may be a cowboy, but I'm still Korean, you hear?”
At that, Seonghyeon spoke a sentence in Korean: “Do you understand me?” Keonho stared at him blankly. Seonghyeon huffed. “I thought you just said you were Korean.” Keonho pouted, his eyes going glossy, and Seonghyeon actually felt bad.
“I am… Was just never taught the language.”
“Pity.” Seonghyeon busied himself with the dirty dishes, carrying them to the kitchen and placing them in a small wash basin for later. When he returned, Keonho was still pouting, his arms crossed and bottom lip jutted out into a duck bill.
Where’s your family, Keonho? Why are you here? Why the rodeo?
“Winter’s over, by the way,” Seonghyeon found himself saying instead.
“Oh.” Keonho’s smile fell.
Neither of them spoke. The air felt too fragile to do that, as if breathing the wrong way would shatter everything.
Keonho finally spoke again. “Guess I should get my things together and git gone, huh? Since winter’s over,” he parroted, his tone falling flat and strange.
Seonghyeon massaged the crick in his neck which was stiffening by the second. “Just take your time, kid. If you die the second you leave my ranch, all my work would’ve been for nothing.”
“But that ain’t the deal we made.”
“We made that deal under the assumption you wouldn’t already be one foot in the grave.”
Keonho shook his head, still fighting him on the technicalities, even if it meant arguing for himself to be booted off Seonghyeon’s ranch with no guaranteed roof over his head or food in his belly. Stubborn, Seonghyeon thought, somehow a little endeared.
“Give it a few days at least,” he decided.
Keonho finally sighed, still for a second, before he smiled. “Alright, hyung. A few days.”
Seonghyeon already knew he’d be spending the next few days with a tight chest.
“I don’t know how to even begin repayin' you,” Keonho said after slinging his bedroll onto Delilah’s back. Lady curled at his feet, ears low, like she already knew that he was leaving. Keonho knelt down and gave her scritches behind her ear. Lady nosed at his hand, her tail thumping against the dirt.
The snow had since melted, leaving behind wet grass and mushy soil. Though, the mornings were still cold. Keonho’s face was tinged pink as evidence—thankfully not from sickness—but from the wind nipping at his skin.
Seonghyeon cleared his throat. “You don’t have to pay me for anything. We’re even.”
Keonho frowned, still crouched by Lady. “You sure?”
“Mn.”
Keonho straightened up, stretching his limbs, which were still a little weak. “Well, uh.” He rubbed the back of his neck. Tipped the brim of his cowboy hat. “Thanks for everything.”
Keonho turned on his heel, as if to hop on Delilah, and, while making a rash decision, Seonghyeon blurted out, “So you’re still headed for Pendleton, right?”
Keonho whipped back around, a grin splitting his face, like he was happy to stay a little while longer. “Eventually, yeah. I’ll be there when the big rodeo is happenin’.”
Seonghyeon nodded. He sucked in a breath. “I usually make a trip there once or twice every summer. You know, to sell my products—and to stock up on whatever I need. So maybe—” He clamped his mouth shut so he wouldn’t say anything more embarrassing, his ears starting to burn.
“Oh, uh—that’s cool! We might run into each other, hyung.”
“Um, yes, that’s the idea.” Seonghyeon had more questions on his tongue, things he’d been wanting to ask Keonho. But he also made that stupid rule—no personal questions, we’re not friends—so shouldn’t he feel inclined to acquiesce to his own rules? But I let him sleep in my bed for ten days.
“Can I ask you one question, Keonho?”
A soft gasp left Keonho’s lips—which Seonghyeon suspected wasn't intentional in the slightest—and something ached in Keonho’s big doe eyes. “Please do,” he murmured.
Seonghyeon found support in the sturdy earth below him and took a deep breath. “How old are you?”
Keonho blinked, taken aback. Then he looked at his hands, his lips moving soundlessly while he counted on his fingers. “Twenty.” His lips pulled into a lopsided grin. “Stopped countin’ when I turned fourteen, but whenever I do need to count, I add me a year for every winter that's passed.”
Why’d you stop counting? he wanted to ask.
“Christ, you are just a kid.”
“I ain’t a kid; I’m an adult!” Keonho stiffened his chin and puffed his chest, as if that would make him more of a man.
“You can’t even walk into a bar.”
“Good. I ain’t dumb enough to be spending money I don’t got in a bar.”
“No, you aren’t that dumb,” Seonghyeon agreed, amusement pulling at the corner of his mouth.
A look of wonder flashed across Keonho’s face, and he studied Seonghyeon a moment longer. “Can I ask you the same thing, hyung?”
“You want to know how old I am?”
Keonho nodded. “Yeah. You call me a kid, act like yer some seasoned ah-dolt—”
“Seasoned adult?”
“—but you have a pretty face. And most old guys ain’t got pretty faces.”
“I…” Seonghyeon’s breath stilled. His chest started squeezing, unbidden. When was the last time he’d been called pretty? Oh, he knew—I ain’t never seen a pretty rancher before.
Heat crawled up his face. “Who are you calling pretty, huh?” he grumbled, looking away, focusing on one of his sheep grazing in the distance.
“Clearly you, Sean.” Keonho chuckled, lighthearted—before his voice dipped into something much lower. “Ain’t nobody else for miles but you and me.”
Like a complete and utter idiot, Seonghyeon shuddered. He doesn’t mean it like that, he told himself. Keonho doesn't know what he's saying.
“So, you gonna answer the question or should I start guessin' your age?”
Shakily, Seonghyeon sighed out. He had to think for a few seconds. Apparently I also stopped counting. “Since winter has passed... I guess I just turned thirty.”
“Coulda had me fooled,” Keonho said with a laugh. “You look young—but the way you act, I figured you were already halfway on your way to meetin’ God.”
“Well. Good thing I’m not halfway yet because I won’t be meeting God,” Seonghyeon said, lacking humor.
“No?” Keonho hummed, amused. “Is that why you live alone in the middle of nowhere? Did something bad yer tryna outrun?”
Seonghyeon shrugged. It was close enough to the truth. “Apparently I did.”
Keonho went quiet for a moment, studying him with a furrowed brow, like he was trying to work out why someone Seonghyeon's age—young despite the way he carried himself—had ended up as a lone rancher with a distaste for human company apart from his own. “You ain’t a bad person,” Keonho said, finally making his verdict.
“Thanks,” Seonghyeon drawled.
“And I mean it! I never lie. My word’s always honest. And if I sin, I always confess my wrongdoin’ to God.”
“Then you’re a good American Christian cowboy, ain’t ya?” he mocked.
“I am,” Keonho said with a tight frown. “Why’re you actin’ like this?”
“Acting? This is who I am.”
“Nah.” Keonho shook his head, sure of himself. “I’ve seen the real you—when you was takin’ care of me. You fed me, cleaned me up, made sure I lived.” He perched his hands on his hips, as if he were the hyung talking down to him. “Maybe you think you ain’t worth savin’, but if the Lord taught me one thing, it’s that us poor souls can still do right in this world, no matter what mistakes we've made in the past.”
Us poor souls.
“You don't know what you're talking about.” Seonghyeon reached into his pocket, pulling out a cig and letting it rest between his lips, unlit, just to give himself something to do. “Get out of here, kid.”
“Here, let me.” Keonho reached over with a lighter.
For some reason, Seonghyeon didn’t stop him.
The flame flickered, lighting the end of the stick until it burned a bright cherry red. Keonho didn’t pull back right away, lingering instead. Damn you, why won't you just back away?
“Will ya visit me at the rodeo?”
“Depends,” Seonghyeon said, feigning nonchalance as he took a drag, feeling the smoke burn his lungs. When he exhaled, holding the cig between his index and middle, the smoke brushed Keonho’s cheek. “Maybe. If you’re lucky.”
Keonho grinned, still invading Seonghyeon's personal space as if he had plans to stay. He wasn't staying. He was leaving. Seonghyeon had to keep reminding himself of that.
“Well then, Sean. I sure hope I get lucky.”