Cowboys and Angels

920 56 18
                                    


Our family, the Kim family, owned this large house with more rooms than we needed, more floors than we needed, and many, many acres of land. 

My father died when I was around the age of seven; my mother told me that he went off to fight in the Civil War and died in Andersonville, which was the worst prison camp in Georgia. She never beat around the bush when it came to my father; she knew I deserved to know the truth, and it would be easier for me if she told me when it happened instead of later in my life. 

Mom turned our house into a bed-and-breakfast, renting out all of our empty rooms to travelers and all sorts of people. The money from that paid our rent and utilities and other bills, along with the money we made on our farm. 

When my great-grandfather first came to America, he built the farm with his bare hands, since no one would help an immigrant. It was the reason my family had thrived for so long; it fed us when we had no money, which was rare, since we could have been classified as rich by now. We didn't identify ourselves as rich, though. 

We simply liked to do good deeds. 

After my father's death, I became man of the house - I was the only man in the house, now. That meant I was allowed to do more work on the farm with all of our stable hands and gardeners. None of them were slaves - even though we lived in the heart of slave country, we didn't own a single one. 

Now, an eighteen-year-old man, it was a miracle if I even came up to the house for dinner. 

All my time out in the hot Texas sun made my skin almost as dark as marmalade, with a glow like rich honey. My hair was streaked with light-brown highlights, and I had a tan-line from my jeans. I was nice and tall - taller than my father was - with a strong build and big hands, which had callouses on them from working so much. 

I knew I was attractive, but the way the young maids would stare at me made me very uncomfortable - girls looking at me like I was a piece of meat made me uncomfortable. 

Thanks to me, we had lots of cows, goats, sheep, and pigs, as well as a few donkeys and an ox on our farm. We grew lots of fruits and vegetables, and even had a green house for tropical plants that some tenants gave us once. My hard work made us thrive, and it made me a really proud man. 

-------

"Mr Kim," one of the older farm hands, Joseph, called to me one day, while I was stacking hay into the barn, "Your mama wants you to hurry and finish, then go get cleaned up. Apparently, we have a special guest." 

I was sweating, my hair sticking to my forehead as I nodded, picking the pitchfork back up. "Yes, sir. This was the last of the hay, anyways." Joseph nodded in understanding then left, patting one of the pregnant heifers on his way out. 

Knowing my mom and how she was, I quickly finished up my work, shutting the barn for the evening and locking it up after making sure everyone was in their respected area and accounted for, then walked the dirt trail up to the back of the house. 

"Taehyung, you better get your ass over here!" 

I rolled my eyes as I walked through the kitchen, giving my younger sister a kiss on the top of her head when I passed, then headed into the parlor, where I could hear my mom quickly apologizing to whoever was here. She wasn't an abusive lady, but she had the temper of a bull when things didn't go according to plan. 

"Ah, here's my son! Taehyung, why don't you have on a shirt?" Mom asked me, hands on her hips as she tapped one of her clogs on the floor. 

"Mom, we live in Texas. Also, why the heck are you wearing clogs?" I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. My mom narrowed her eyes at me, walking over to playfully shove me in the chest. 

VHope FluffshotsWhere stories live. Discover now