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MARI PULLED UP TO THE cabin shortly before ten the following morning, eager to learn what being a ranch hand entailed. Travis stood leaning on his crutches in the open doorway, a cup of coffee in one hand, his dogs lounging at his feet. He took a sip as she approached, his hooded gaze watching her over the rim. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice a little scratchy.
“Good morning.” She walked up the steps and paused. “You sound tired.”
“Been up since six fifteen.”
“Why?”
“That’s when the sun rose today.” His cheeks dimpled. “I work from sunrise to sundown. Take my second coffee break around ten.” His eyes swept over her rust-brown sweater and faded blue jeans before dropping to her shoes. “First things first, you need muck boots. Those sneakers won’t last the day.”
Embarrassment encroached on her zeal. “I don’t have any.” She cringed inwardly as she thought of the unanticipated expense.
“I do. Borrowed a pair from my niece. Your feet are about the same size as hers, I hope. Spence dropped them off earlier, along with some gloves.” He nodded at the items sitting on the bench. “Try them on.”
His consideration touched her. “That’s so nice of you.” She sat on the bench and picked up one of the purple and white polka dotted muck boots. “These are cute.”
“Hope you’re still smiling after the first chore I give you. Want a cup of coffee before we begin?”
“I’m good.” She stood up and stomped her feet. The boots fit perfectly, as did the soft leather work gloves. When she glanced up, she caught an odd expression on Travis’s face; he seemed pleased about something. His smile turned placid.
“You’ll do,” he said. “Ready?”
“You betcha.”
He laughed. “You’re learning our lingo. That’s a good start.”
Mari followed him to the barn, thankful the rain had cleared, and the ground was not as muddy. She admired the smooth way Travis now handled his crutches. Rocky and Stella ambled ahead, tails wagging.
Inside the open sliding door, Travis paused. With one crutch, he pointed at a whiteboard affixed to the wall. “Brought this down from my office. It’s your list of daily chores. Cross each one off when you’re finished. If I’m not around when you get here, check the whiteboard.”
She studied the bulleted list and read the first task out loud. “Muck out stalls.” She sent him a speaking glance.
He grinned. “It’s not that bad. Just four horses stabled right now.”
Her dread evaporated; she’d envisioned cleaning out forty stalls. “You don’t keep all your horses in the barn?”
“Heck no. They’re outside day and night.”
“What about in the winter?”
His eyes twinkled at her worried face. “Even then. I built a couple sheds in the winter pastures they can use in the worst conditions, but horses are smart, adaptable animals. It’s healthier for them being outdoors. And the dogs help keep predators away.”
He started down the aisle; she quickened her steps to walk alongside him. “The stallion, Silver King, comes in each night,” he said. “He’s my most valuable asset. I can’t risk leaving him overnight in the pasture. I stable my horse at night in the winter and spring. Kheiron is part thoroughbred. His skin is thinner. And the boys bring their horses in. Since Jigsy and Scamp are their main transportation around the ranch, it’s simpler and less time consuming to stable them than gather them from the pasture each morning. Any mares close to foaling get stabled too.”
Her soft, amused laughter made him pause. He threw her a puzzled look. “What?”
“Jigsy? Scamp?”
He smiled and shrugged. “Mutt and Squeak have always had a talent for quirky horse names, and the names suit those horses to a T. You’ll see that when you meet them later.”
“And Kheiron?”
“In Greek mythology, Kheiron was the wisest of the centaurs, intelligent and kind.” A shadow touched his face. “Not his original name. I changed it when I...acquired him a few years back.” His features lightened as he noted her curiosity. “I don’t have time right now to share that story. But I will later.”
He continued toward the largest stall at the end of the aisle and halted outside the open door. “This is Silver King’s stall. You’ll start here. We left the doors open to the other stalls that need mucking.” He nodded at a pitchfork propped beside the door and the large wheelbarrow nearby. “You’ll chuck the manure into the wheelbarrow, but shake out as much of the dry hay as you can first.”
“Where’s Silver King?”
“Mutt turned him out at eight o’clock.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means Mutt put him in a pasture for the day.” Humor laced Travis’s voice.
“You better not be laughing at me. I told you I didn’t know a thing about ranch work.”
He held up one hand. “I’m not laughing at you, Mari. I promise. Guess I’m just realizing the language I’ve used all my life can sound foreign to other people. Don’t worry. There’s nothing too complicated about this job. It’s just hard work.” He glanced at his watch. “Start on this stall. Squeak will be here in a little bit to demonstrate, since I can’t do that myself. Got to head to my office. I have a potential client calling.”
Mari concealed her disappointment; she’d expected Travis to show her the ropes and guide her through her first day. On the flip side, it wasn’t good for him hobbling around on his crutches long stretches of time. “Okay.”
He pivoted toward the exit and paused. “We’ll break for lunch at noon. Come to the cabin for sandwiches. I’ll give you a tour of the ranch after that.”
Her spirits lifted. “Okay. See you.”
Mucking out a stable seemed a straightforward task. It took a few minutes to learn the best way to hold the pitchfork without dropping the manure before it reached the wheelbarrow. The pitchfork was heavier than she thought it would be; it didn’t help that it was almost as tall as she was, but she’d manage.
Finished with the first stall, she moved on to the next open door. She glanced up at Squeak’s bow-legged approach.
“How’re you doin’ there, young lady?”
“First stall’s done.” Pride rang in her voice.
A droll laugh escaped Squeak’s lips as he poked his head into the stallion’s stall. “Not by a long shot. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He reached for the pitchfork.
Mari leaned against the stall door as the old cowboy showed her the proper way to clean the stall. He tossed forkfuls of hay against the side partition, the collision releasing pieces buried in the strands. He moved in the swift and methodical manner of someone who’d done this task since the time he was big enough to hold a pitchfork. All the while, he explained what he was doing. He handed her the pitchfork. “Think you got the gist of it?”
She nodded.
“Okay. You finish the other three, and I’ll show you the next step.”
Two hours later, she drove a mud-splattered utility vehicle up the barn aisle to where Squeak waited in the doorway. With his guidance, she’d finished unloading hay bales from the trailer and spreading fresh hay in each stall. Now Squeak would show her where the hay barn was so she could replenish the supply needed for tomorrow. “This is fun,” she said as he folded himself into the seat beside her.
He chortled. “Never seen someone so enthused about mucking horse stalls.” He pointed to her left. “Hay barn’s that way. Watch for the puddles.”
“Well, I like it better than asking people if they want fries or slaw with their burger, and scrubbing grease off the griddle.”
“Don’t expect I’d enjoy that much either. Turn here.”
About ten yards kitty corner to the barn stood a large, metal-roofed structure, open on three sides and stacked floor to ceiling with square bales of hay. “Wow. That’s a lot of hay,” Mari said.
“Last fall’s harvest. Some of it goes up to the Bar H for their horses. Horse hay’s different from cow hay.”
“Travis grows his own hay?”
“Stop here. Yep. Lot of ranchers do. Travis has about a hundred acres set aside for hay crops. Grows some extra for the local farmers who don’t have enough land. Makes a nice profit from that.”
Mari shook her head. “How does he manage it all?”
Squeak peered at her bewildered face; he slapped a palm on his thigh, his shoulders shaking with laughter. “Well, he doesn’t do all the planting and harvesting himself, you know. He hires a crew to plow and seed in the spring, and another crew to cut and bale the hay when the time comes. He’s a horseman, not a farmer.”
She narrowed her gaze with mock irritation. “I remember you telling me there’s no such thing as stupid questions.”
He looked abashed. “Don’t get all het up now. I’m only teasing. That’s part of a greenhorn’s training.”
“How’s it going?” Travis said from behind them.
Mari swiveled in her seat to watch his approach. “Squeak called me a greenhorn.” She put an annoyed whine in her voice.
“Well, you are a greenhorn.” Travis grinned. “So, what’s the problem?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s get the trailer loaded. I’m hungry.”
In the time it took Mari to lug one hay bale from the stack and hoist it onto the small trailer hitched to the UTV, Squeak loaded three. Travis helped push the bales onto the trailer, his frustration at the inability to use both his hands clear in the taut set of his mouth. Once they had six bales loaded, he hopped on the edge of the dump bed behind the front seat. “Think I can trust Mari to get me to the barn without breaking my other leg?” he asked Squeak.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Mari snorted. Although a few puddles tempted her on the return journey, she stuck to the main path. The men’s good-natured teasing didn’t bother her; she couldn’t recall having this much fun in her life.
After she and Squeak unhitched the trailer and rolled it into an empty stall, Travis examined the whiteboard. “Hmm. Only one task crossed off so far. At this rate, you’ll still be here at midnight.”
“Cool. That means I’ll get paid overtime.”
He quirked one eyebrow. “Maybe I should pay by task completed, not time.”
“Too late now.”
She insisted on making their lunch. “The three of us won’t fit in this tiny kitchen. Just tell me what you want.”
“Turkey, please,” Squeak said as he pointed at the packets of lunch meat. “Can you fix a couple for Mutt too? I’ll bring ’em to him. He’s been out riding colts all morning.”
“Chicken for me,” Travis said. “Just one. Too much sitting isn’t working up my appetite.”
While Mari made the sandwiches, she paused now and again to add items to the shopping list she’d attached to the fridge the day before. She wasn’t aware of Travis watching her until he said, “We’ll head up to Bozeman in a week or two. I buy a lot of groceries and other supplies in bulk at Costco.”
She met his eyes. “You want me to go with you?”
“Yep. You’ll drive. You passed the official road test with flying colors. In fact, you’re proving to be a mighty fine ranch hand.” He elbowed Squeak in the ribs, his teasing eyes fixed on Mari’s glowing face. “What do you think, Squeak? Should we keep her here for good?”