This Hick?

Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

CASSIDY

“ H ow much poop is there on this ranch?” Karen complained.

“I don’t know if that’s something one can quantify.”

“Quantify?”

“What, you don’t think I know a three-syllable word?”

She laughed. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. But seriously, is this all I’m going to be doing? Shoveling shit?”

“You would prefer the animals wallowed in their own filth?” I countered.

“I would prefer they were potty trained or had their own toilets. What about giant diapers? Have you tried that?”

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone balk at ranch work, but Karen? She made it an art form. I’d never seen a person look so horrified by basic chores.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of amusement. The city girl was getting a real taste of ranch life and it tickled me.

“Come on, back to the coop,” I said.

“How many times do those stupid chickens eat?”

“We’re not feeding them.”

“Don’t you dare tell me we’re going to kill a chicken,” she said. “I refuse. I’ll do a lot of things, but I’m not killing an animal. And I’m not plucking a chicken either. It can go pluck itself.”

I had to laugh again. The woman was a ranch virgin. She had no idea about the circle of life out here. But we weren’t going to be getting into that.

“We’re not killing chickens. We’re cleaning the coop.”

“You’re kidding me,” she said with a groan. “More shit.”

“Oh yeah, but chicken shit is a lot different than horse shit.”

“I would imagine it’s smaller.”

I smiled and shook my head. “Yeah, you could say that.”

We each grabbed a shovel. I picked up one of the wheelbarrows and made our way to the coop. I pulled open the door and gestured for her to go in. The smell hit her hard. I watched, half in awe, half in pity, as she staggered back, waving a hand in front of her nose.

She groaned, gagging. “All your animals are sick. Holy hell, that’s bad.”

“You get used to it,” I said, though even I had to admit the coop was ripe today. “It’s the ammonia. The chickens crap everywhere, and it builds up.”

Her eyes watered as she pulled her sweatshirt up over her mouth. “This is inhumane. Is this even legal?”

I chuckled, opening the door wider. “Come on, you’re not going to let a little poop scare you off, are you?”

Karen hesitated, then squared her shoulders, clearly trying to muster up some courage. She stepped inside like she was walking toward the hangman’s noose.

“Same thing?” she asked with resignation.

“Yep, shovel it into the wheelbarrow. We have a separate compost pile for the chicken poop.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I really don’t.”

She walked into the coop and started shoveling, gagging the whole time.

I stood back for a moment, watching her struggle but determined to get the job done. It was almost admirable, in a funny sort of way.

“You know, there’s a rhythm to it. You scoop, you throw, you breathe—just not too deeply.”

She shot me a withered look between gags. “I’d laugh if I wasn’t so busy trying not to vomit.”

“We can take a break soon,” I offered, although we both knew that breaks were a rare commodity during a day’s work.

“No,” she said after a long pause. “Let’s just get this over with. I never want to think about this again. I’m tempted to break my leg so I don’t have to do this.”

She thrust her shovel into the saturated pine shavings again, a little too vigorously. She flung the shovel full of shit with just a little too much force. It extended beyond the wheelbarrow.

“Slow down, Hulk.”

Karen stopped shoveling and gave me a stern look. “Don’t patronize me, cowboy. I’m miserable and you know it.”

I raised my hands in surrender. “Fair enough. But you’re doing a good job.” I glanced around at the half-cleaned coop. “Really, you are.”

“Thanks. This was one of my life goals.” She muttered before she went back to shoveling with a bit more control this time.

I joined her inside the coop, filing the wheelbarrow and pushing it away to dump the contents. She worked quickly, barely saying a word.

By the time we were done, she was sweating despite the cold. I was pretty sure she was rethinking every life decision that led her to this moment.

“You alright?” I asked, leaning against the coop door.

She shot me a glare, “I’m fantastic. This is exactly how I imagined spending my day.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle as we walked to the shed to get fresh shavings.

“The chickens are going to be very happy with their nice, clean coop,” I said. “You’re their hero today.”

“Oh good, because I would hate for the chickens to be sad.”

Her sarcasm was sharp, but there was a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. I could tell she didn’t hate it quite as much as she was making it seem, even if she would never admit it.

We spread the fresh pine shavings in the coop, making sure the nesting boxes were filled as well.

“You know, you might not believe it, but this is good for the soul.”

Karen snorted, dropping a handful of shavings into the corner. “My soul was just fine with coffee and spreadsheets.”

“Maybe so but there’s something about working with your hands, seeing immediate results of your labor. It’s fulfilling.”

“The only thing I’m filled with is disgust.” She paused and then turned to look at me. “Now what?”

“We need to take care of the tack.”

She groaned, but I could see the determination in her eyes. She wasn’t going to quit, no matter how much she hated this. I had to admire her fight, even if she wasn’t built for ranch life.

“You’re doing great,” I said, trying not to sound too amused. “Just a few more chores, and we’ll call it a day.”

She groaned again. “This is brutal.”

I led her to the tack room where saddles, bridles, and other horse gear were stacked in a somewhat orderly fashion. The musty smell of leather and horse greeted us as we opened the door. Karen wrinkled her nose as she stepped inside, clearly still adjusting to all the new scents around her.

She looked skeptically at the rows of saddles and bridles.

“We’re going to clean the tack. It’s not as bad as the coop, I promise,” I reassured her. “We need to make sure everything is clean and in good condition so it’s safe for riding. We can’t afford to buy new, which means we have to take care of what we do have.”

Karen picked up a bridle and examined it suspiciously. “And how exactly do I clean this?”

I showed her how to apply saddle soap with a cloth, working it into the leather to clean and condition it. “Just like this,” I demonstrated, making circular motions on a saddle flap.

She followed suit, albeit clumsily, smearing the soap over the leather. After a few attempts, she started to get the hang of it.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” I asked.

“It’s better than the coop,” she admitted. “At least it smells better.”

“That’s the spirit.” I grinned. “Leather work can be kind of meditative once you get into it.”

“I guess there’s something satisfying about making something dirty look new again.”

We spent the rest of the day cleaning the barn and taking care of the usual tasks.

Karen’s patience wore thinner and thinner. Every new task seemed to push her closer to the edge, whether it was brushing down the horses or filling the water trough and breaking up ice. She was out of her element, and it showed. But she stuck it out, even when she screamed bloody murder at the sight of a mouse scurrying across the barn floor.

By the time we were finished, her hair was plastered to her forehead. She looked like she’d been through a war.

“We’re done,” I said.

She looked at me like she didn’t believe me. “Really?”

“Yep. It’s time to clean up and go to dinner.”

“I’m so tired I think I’ll just go to bed.”

I shook my head. “Can’t. We can’t have weak hands. You have to eat and keep up your strength.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

I walked to the bunkhouse to wash up with a smile on my face. I had to admit, she had kept up pretty well.

When I returned to the dining room for dinner, Karen was already there. I could see she had taken a shower. Her hair was wet, and she had changed into leggings and a sweater.

I got myself a tray and joined her, Kenny, and Ginny at a table in the corner.

“You could have warned me,” she said.

“About what?” I asked.

“About the gross parts of ranch life.”

“You really put her through the wringer, huh?” Kenny said, grinning across the table at me.

“She needed to learn the ropes,” I replied with a shrug. “Ranch work isn’t all sunshine and sunsets.”

Karen shot me a withering look. “That’s the understatement of the century.”

“I think Cassidy’s just trying to impress you,” Ginny said. “He wants you to think he works hard. He’s just pissed because he has to do my chores. I’m the one that has to bust my ass.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Do you have to clean that coop every day?” Karen asked.

“Not every day, but it’s easier if you keep it clean. Otherwise it gets stinky.”

“Stinkier than today?” Karen asked with surprise.

“Today was about average,” I said.

“It gets worse?” She looked aghast.

“It does,” I said with a nod.

“Gross.” She looked down at her plate. “I don’t care what you say, I’m going to bed. My arms hurt so bad I don’t think I can even lift my fork to my face.”

I chuckled. “Make sure you eat in the morning. Like I said, we can’t have you feeling faint.”

Karen slowly got up from the table. “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

She carried her tray to the trash and disappeared upstairs.

“Poor girl,” Ginny said. “That has to be rough.”

“She did good, though,” I said.

Kenny chuckled. “You hear that, Ginny? I think he’s sweet on her.”

“Cut it out,” I said, trying to sound firm, but the grin probably wasn’t helping my case.

“I think it’s cute,” Ginny said, batting her eyelashes dramatically. “You’ve got a little crush.”

“Seriously?” I muttered, shaking my head. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“I think I hear wedding bells,” Ginny teased.

I groaned, standing up from the table. “Alright, that’s enough. Time to get you back to the bunkhouse. If you keep running your mouth, I’m going to make you sleep on the couch in here.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Kenny said. “The rest of the bunkhouse would get some sleep without her moaning and groaning.”

“Ha, ha,” Ginny said. “You guys would be lost without me.”

I helped her to her feet. She was unsteady on the crutches, so Kenny and I had to drape her arms over our shoulders to keep her upright. She leaned heavily on us, grinning like a fool.

“You should carry me,” Ginny said. “You can practice for when you carry Karen over the threshold.”

“Shut up,” I grunted as she leaned against me.

“Cassidy and Karen, sittin’ in a tree…” Kenny said.

I had half a mind to kick out one of his ankles and let them both fall in the middle of the driveway.

“We’re just happy to see you enjoying someone’s company for once,” Ginny said.

I couldn’t argue with that. I was enjoying Karen’s company, despite how much she drove me crazy. And maybe there was something more to it. But I wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction of admitting it.

We got Ginny back to the bunkhouse and settled her into bed.

Kenny and I settled into our own bunks.

“You know, Cassidy, you might not want to admit it, but I think you’re good for Karen. Or she’s good for you.”

“I don’t think she has any interest in being good for me,” I said. “And she sure as hell doesn’t think I’m good for her. She can’t wait to get out of here.”

“Maybe you’re exactly what she needs.”

“We’ll see if she even gets out of bed tomorrow,” I said. “I have a feeling she’s going to be pretty miserable.”

“Maybe you can offer her a massage,” he said.

“Maybe you can shut your damn mouth and go to sleep.”