Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
CASSIDY
M y boots crunched on the frozen gravel as I walked across the property. Smaller footsteps followed me. Sundays were always busy with the kids. All the children in the group were regulars. They all knew the drill, which was exactly the point. They needed the structure. The mundane tasks were part of the program. It taught them responsibility and gave them the opportunity to take care of someone else. Even if it was just a bunch of noisy chickens.
The ranch was a safe place to be while their folks were working. I’d been running this program for almost ten years now, and not once had I missed a Sunday. No matter what was going on, how hungover I was, or how cozy I was in bed, I got my ass up. I made sure I was here for the kids. I got down in the dirt and showed them how to care for the animals, fix fences, and keep a ranch running.
Did I think they were all going to grow up and be ranchers? No. But that wasn’t the point. They were learning skills and work ethic. They were learning, period, and that made them feel like they had value in this world.
I knew how it felt to feel like you were nothing more than a burdensome blob with no value. I remembered what it felt like to think so low of myself I considered things I never wanted to think about.
I did not want these kids to ever feel like that. It was my life’s mission.
Today, we were starting with the chickens, a rowdy group of Rhode Island Reds that always caused chaos during feeding time.
“How do they always know what time it is?” one of the young guys asked.
“All animals have an internal clock,” I said with a laugh. “Trust me, if we’re fifteen minutes late, they’re going to know.”
“Are we late today?”
“We are,” I said. “That’s why they’re all fired up. We better get to feeding them.”
The kids that ranged in age from eight to fifteen looked like they weren’t sure if they believed me. If they ever got pets or worked on a ranch, they’d learn.
“Alright, y’all know the drill!” I hollered as the kids gathered around the coop, shivering but grinning. “Who’s on feed duty?”
A bunch of hands shot up, but I pointed to Logan, a scrawny twelve-year-old with wild hair. “You’re up, Logan. Remember, they want the feed, not you. They’re just a little goofy and get bossy. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Logan nodded. The others patted him on the back and offered words of encouragement like he was gearing up to go into battle. I supposed when you were barely five foot tall and thirty chickens were coming at you, it could be a little intimidating.
Logan grabbed the feed bucket from me as the rest of the kids scattered around the pen, ready to catch any adventurous hens that tried to make a break for it. I watched them, making sure no one got trampled or pecked too hard.
I heard footsteps and turned to see if we had a straggler. It was Karen. She looked confused. I couldn’t tell if it was the noisy chickens or the group of kids that had her wondering if she was in the wrong place.
“Morning,” I said, tipping my hat to her.
She blinked, looking from me to the kids and then to the chickens, as if trying to piece together what was happening. “What’s all this?”
“This is the Sunday program. We’ve got kids from town who come out to help on the ranch. Gives them something to do, teaches responsibility, keeps them out of trouble.”
“Oh.”
Then I got an idea. It might have been my devilish side, but I couldn’t resist. “You want to feed some chickens?”
Her eyes widened in panic. “Oh, no. I—I think I’ll pass on that.”
But before she could backpedal any further, a couple of the kids overheard the conversation.
“Come on, I’ll help you,” Logan said, holding out the feed bucket toward her. “It’s easy! You just throw the feed out, like this.” He mimicked tossing seed.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Karen said, backing up. “I am not?—”
Suddenly, all the kids started chanting, “Do it! Do it! Do it!”
I grinned, waiting to see how she would react.
Karen shot me a dirty look. “You put them up to this, didn’t you?”
“Not at all.” I smirked, not bothering to hide my amusement. “They’re just very supportive.”
With a reluctant sigh, she stepped forward, taking the feed bucket from Logan like it might explode in her hands. “Fine. I’ll do it. For the kids.”
I leaned against the fence, watching the scene unfold. Too bad I hadn’t brought my phone. I had a feeling this was one of those moments that would be a viral video. Unfortunately, I was going to have to settle for the memory.
Karen gingerly stepped into the chicken pen, holding the bucket at arm’s length like the birds were going to leap at her any second. The chickens, already manic from the sight of food, started squawking and flapping, circling her in a clucking feeding frenzy.
She let out a little shriek as one of the bolder hens darted forward, pecking at her boots. “Oh my god! Are they always so aggressive?”
Another hen used every bit of effort it could muster to fly up and land on the bucket. She screamed and tried to shoo the chicken away.
The kids were in hysterics. Logan was laughing hard as he tried to tell Karen to relax. Karen attempted to scatter the feed, but instead, it flew everywhere—over her shoulder, into the wind, some of it landing on her jacket. The chickens went wild, chasing her as she tried to escape, her hair flying in every direction, her boots slipping in the mud.
I couldn’t help it. I started laughing. Hard.
“Help!” she shrieked, flinging feed in every direction. “They’re trying to eat me!”
I waved her over, trying to catch my breath. “Come on, they’re not going to hurt you.”
I opened the door, keeping my boot up to block any chickens that thought they were going to chase her out. She bolted out of the pen, panting and shedding chicken feed, with a few feathers stuck in her hair. One of the kids, a little girl named Abby, skipped over to her and handed her a shiny sticker, her face beaming with pride.
“Here you go,” Abby said. “You’re one of us now.”
Karen looked at the sticker. “RHCM?”
I was still grinning like an idiot, still trying to recover from watching her ordeal. “Rocking Horse Club Member,” I explained.
Karen stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Too late. Once you’ve fed the chickens, you’re in for life.” I grinned, ruffling Abby’s hair as she skipped off, giggling.
Karen shook her head, brushing feed off her clothes. Despite the mess, there was a smile on her lips. “That was an experience.”
“Oh, you’re not done yet,” I said, still smirking. “We’ve got chores lined up for you. Might as well make yourself useful while you’re here. It’ll be a good example for the kids.”
She pulled her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “Well, I guess if you think I’m a good example for the kids.”
“Yeah, you’ll show them what not to do.” Before she could argue, I waved for the kids to leave the coop. “Let’s go, guys. We’ve got hungry animals! Our new friend Karen will be joining us.”
They cheered at the new addition to the group. Abby took her hand and kept sneaking shy glances up at Karen, who looked hilariously uncomfortable. It seemed she was as good with kids as with chickens.
I led the group toward the stables, feeling light. Being around the kids was always fulfilling but Karen’s presence added a fun little twist to the routine. She could learn right along with the kids, which would be good for her, and I got to watch. Win-win.
The air smelled of hay and horses and, of course, shit. It was just part of life on a ranch. As soon as Karen stepped inside the stable, I saw her wrinkle her nose. “Oh, that is vile,” she said. “What have you been feeding these things, chili?”
“We’re mucking out the stalls,” I announced, handing her a shovel. “And it’s mostly hay and oats and stuff. Don’t overreact.”
Karen stared at the shovel like I’d just handed her a hand grenade. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Nope.” I leaned back against the stall door, crossing my arms again. “If you want to help the ranch, you have to know what it’s like to work on one. At least for a day.”
“That’s one day too many,” she said quietly.
“The children know what to do. Just follow their lead.” I leaned close to her ear. “If they can do it, so can you.”
They jumped into action, grabbing their own shovels and getting to work. Karen stood frozen. Her eyes flicked between the piles of manure and the kids who were mucking out stalls without a second thought. She gingerly stuck her shovel into a pile, her face scrunching up in disgust.
“Ugh!” she gagged. “I wasn’t ready for the texture. Oh, no. Check please.”
“You already have the shovel in there,” I said. “Just pick some up and move it.”
She barely managed to lift a shovelful and fling it in the waiting wheelbarrow. “How do you people do this?”
One of the older boys, probably about thirteen or fourteen, glanced over at her with a grin. “We have to clean the stalls so the horses don’t get sick.”
I nodded. “Yeah, Karen. Why do you want the horses to get sick?”
“Karen, no,” Abby called out sternly. “Horses are our friends. We don’t want friends to get sick.”
Karen shook her head quickly and glanced around at all the kids. “Hey, whoa, no one wants the horses sick. The horses are my friends too.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. “Then get to shoveling, city girl,” I teased. “It’s just horse crap. Nothing to be scared of.”
She glared at me. “Easy for you to say. You’ve been doing this for years.”
I was still chuckling when Jason, one of the older boys, moved to stand next to me. “She’s pretty.”
I glanced at him, surprised by the comment. Karen stood, shovel in hand, struggling with a mound of manure with her nose scrunched up. Strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail, framing her face in a wild halo, and she was muttering things I hoped the kids couldn’t hear. “Prettiest thing around here, that’s for sure.”
It slipped out before I could stop it, but the words were true. Even covered in feed and muck, with her hair sticking out in every direction, Karen was the prettiest thing I’d seen in a long while. She seemed brighter than the world around her. It was that little fire I saw flash in her eyes. And the stubborn streak nearly a mile wide.
The kid grinned. “I wonder if she likes younger men.”
“Jason,” I said sternly.
“I’ve been saving my lunch money. Do you think she likes tacos?”
I scrubbed a hand over my face and shook my head. “Yes, everyone likes tacos. But no, don’t hit on her and make her uncomfortable. I taught you better than that. Stick with girls your own age. Buy them tacos.”
Jason sighed. “Alright. You can have her.”
“Thank you for your permission. Now get back to work, Romeo. Go fall in love with that wheelbarrow.”
Grinning, he grabbed the full wheelbarrow and rolled it outside, leaving me to oversee the operation. I watched Karen for a moment longer, trying to figure out why she was getting under my skin. She was out of her element, but she kept showing up. Something about that made me respect her.
And she did look pretty cute, like a clumsy deer trying to walk on ice.
Feeling the need to save her, I walked over and took the shovel from her hands. “Here, let me show you how it’s done.” I demonstrated, shoveling efficiently and piling the manure neatly in a new wheelbarrow. “You need to use your legs more than your back. It’s all in the technique.”
She took the shovel, shooting me another dirty look. Her attempt was clumsy but better than before. “I’m sure shoveling horse doodoo will look great on my resume.”
I laughed. “You’d be surprised. Builds character. And tells future employers you’re not afraid of getting your hands dirty.”
Karen rolled her eyes, but this time her shit-shoveling was more assertive. “Great. I can see the job interviews now. ‘What’s your greatest strength?’ ‘Oh, I can shovel horse crap like a pro.’ Every good accountant needs to know how to shovel shit.”
I gasped as if I were offended. “Watch your language, young lady. There are children around.”
She clapped her hand over her mouth, immediate regretting it when she caught a whiff of her soiled hands. Gagging, she glared at me. “We’re all adults today,” she said. “If they can shovel shit, they can hear the word.”
I smiled evilly. “Don’t make me tell your uncle about your potty mouth.”
“You wouldn’t!”
I detected a smile beneath her protest. Despite her complaints, I had a feeling she was enjoying herself. Not because she liked crap but because she had faced her fears and punched through them.
We moved on to take care of the other chores the kids could handle. She kept up, looking a little nervous, but she helped throw hay and fill troughs. It might have helped that Abby stuck by Karen’s side the whole time, her little shadow. The sight of them together made me feel something strange. Something I had never felt before.
I did my best to put it out of my head.
As we wrapped up the chores, Karen wiped her forehead, streaking a bit of dirt across her cheek. She looked exhausted, but there was a spark in her eyes, like she’d just survived some kind of epic battle.
“Not bad for a first-timer,” I said, handing her a water bottle.
She took it with a grateful nod, gulping it down. “It definitely gets the blood pumping,” she said with a smirk. “But I think I’ll stick to accounting.”
Despite her grumbling, Karen had a way of connecting with people. Even me, though I wasn’t ready to admit it. The kids had gravitated toward her. It wasn’t just Abby and the lovesick Jason.
I was glad she softened some of those sharp edges when she was around them. She talked to them like they were smart young people instead of the condescending baby talk some adults used.
“Thanks for letting me tag along today,” she said.
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Anytime. I was impressed you stuck it out all day. You did good out there.”
She smiled, a real one this time, not the sarcastic smirk she usually wore. And damn if it didn’t light up her whole face.
I had to force myself not to stare at her for too long. She might get the wrong idea that I actually liked her or something.
And that was ridiculous.