4. PRESTON
Chapter four
PRESTON
I SWEAR IT TASTES LIKE MEAT
PRESTON: Thanks again for dinner. I meant to talk to you about a tech trial that a friend of mine is running. I think it would be great for the ranch. Did you have time to chat this week?
I shoot off the message and start unpacking the box RED Tech sent over. The trial they are running is small, only a few ranches even fit the criteria, but when Bradford, an old friend of mine from Vet School, reached out to see if I knew any ranches that fit the specs, I was a little too excited to confirm I had one out this way that did. He express-shipped the pack out to me the following day. I meant to ask Dean if he’d be interested yesterday, but with the horse and then the dinner, it just slipped my mind. My phone chimes.
DEAN: I am always interested in anything great for the ranch. I can come over this afternoon if you like.
PRESTON: Sure. My last appointment is at six, though, so did you want to meet at the diner at about seven, and we can grab a burger while we chat?
I click send, and immediately, my heart is racing. Shit. I hope he doesn’t think I’m using the tech trial as a lame excuse to invite him to dinner. Maybe I should message back and tell him I’ll just head over to the ranch after my appointments tomorrow; I’ve only got a few in the morning. I should have just said that to begin with. As long as the trial starts this week, it will be on track for reporting to RED Tech. I click the little box to start typing, but his reply pops up on the screen before I can send anything.
DEAN: Sounds good. See you at seven.
Okay, no going back now. The door to the clinic opens, and Mrs. Patmore walks through.
“Is Mr. Pickles ready?” she asks.
“Yes, perfect timing. He’s all set. Let me just go grab him.”
I head out to the back to where we have the boarding kennels. Mr. Pickles, her Cavalier King Charles, is sleeping, and lets out a soft whine when I lift him out.
“That will be forty dollars,” I say, and she hands over cash and then takes Mr. Pickles and kisses him right on the nose.
“Look at my pretty boy,” she coos.
“I’ll just grab your change,” I say, rummaging in the drawer for the right mix of notes and coins.
Most of the older generations in town still prefer cash. I don’t mind, but after a break-in last year, I had to install a safe upstairs and put in a camera to deter thieves. I don’t think they were after money or medication, because they left both alone, and only took a giant bag of cat litter and a case of wet cat food.
“Same time again in two weeks?” I confirm, and she nods.
“Thank you, dearie,” she says, leaving the clinic.
I tidy up the place and get the work out the back done while I wait for my last client, then after Mr. Sutherland’s German shepherd is made up to date on his shots, I grab the RED Tech box and lock up.
The new diner is lit up brighter than a Christmas tree, with the new neon pink and green sign above it. Awnings with the same color scheme shade the windows from its blinding glow, but there is no escaping the color combination as it carries through every inch of the indoors. The booths alternate with the table green and booth seats pink and vice versa, and so do the stools that run the length of the old-time feel counter.
I grab a booth up the back and sit on the far side so that I can see Dean when he walks in.
“What will you have, love?” an older woman asks in a super sweet southern drawl that has to be for show. It sounds like she’s been asking that question for fifty years the way it rolls off her tongue. She might have been, but it sure wasn’t in this diner. Up until about two years ago, this diner was run by Sally-May, but like so many of the places around here, it got bought up. I guess we should be thankful it’s still a diner, at least.
“Just water for now, please. I’m waiting on someone.”
“Well, when she gets here, darlin’, you just give me a holler, and I’ll come on over and get your order,” she says, and I ignore the assumption that I am waiting on a woman and just smile and nod. This town is like any other in the country. There are those people who accept everyone for who they are, don’t give a shit about who they love, and then there are the asshats.
Dean is here. He shoves the heavy glass door open with one hand and strolls in with a saunter that I reckon only a real cowboy like him has.
I raise my hand and wave.
“Over here,” I call, my voice cracking a little, and I quickly grab the water and drink the whole thing down.
He sits at the table opposite me.
“Sorry I’m late. Have you ordered? If you have, it’s fine. I was about to leave, but then I got a call that Chewie was in the pool again. It took two of us to rope him and lead him back to his enclosure. I have no idea how he’s getting out.”
He’s talking a little faster than normal, and his face is growing pink with every passing second.
“You’re not late, I was early, and I haven’t ordered. I just sat down, really. How often is Chewie getting out?”
“At least once a day, today was twice.”
“Well, you’re here now. Let’s order.” I raise my arm and wave over the waitress.
“What will you have?” she asks, no sweetness left in her tone. It’s all truck stop, down to business from here on out.
“The veggie burger and fries for me and for you?” I ask Dean.
“Same, but throw a big steak on mine to liven it up.”
I chuckle.
“Sure you don’t want to go meatless?”
“Okay. I’m game to give this veggie thing a go, but maybe throw in a side of bacon just in case.”
She scribbles the order down on her notepad and heads over to the old-style ticket hanging spinner, connects the paper, and dings the bell twice. “Order up,” she calls, and I’m reminded why I still come to this place.
“What’s that smile for?” Dean asks.
“I was just remembering why I like coming here,” I reply, and he glances over his shoulder at where the ticket spinner and bell sit. You can see the cook through the window working on our burgers and shaking a basket of what are hopefully our fries in the fryer. There aren’t too many other people in here at this time of night, and all of them are already eating, so we’re in with a good shot that it is.
“You like the sound of the bell?” he asks with a confused frown on his face.
I chuckle. “Yes. But not for the reason you think. Dad and I would come here every Tuesday night. Mom would be at her book club or sewing club or whatever she used to do, and we came here. He’d order the steak, and I’d get the salad, and then we’d both get the pie for dessert.”
“It’s nice you have those memories. I bet it didn’t look like a unicorn vomited all over the place back then, like it looks now.”
“Ha, no. But as ‘in your face’ as it is, they never had a veggie burger until the new owner took over, so I don’t totally hate it.”
“We’ll see. You’re really hyping up the veggie burger here. I think I made a good choice asking for the bacon.”
“You watch; you’ll not even know that you’re not eating meat, it’s that good.”
“Sure, sure. Well, we came here to talk tech, is that it?” he asks, pointing to the box beside me.
“Right, the reason I messaged. Well, it’s, umm,” I grab the box and put it on the table to the left of us and start pulling out flyers as I explain.
“It’s a monitoring app that feeds data directly from your cows into the RED Tech system, and you will be able to track the cows’ cycles. You will get notifications when the breeding window opens for each one and when it closes. You will even be able to know which cow is in heat and for how long, and it will track her all through pregnancy, and if the pregnancy fails, the monitor should pick up on that as well.”
“Sounds too good to be true. How does it work?” he asks, leaning closer, and I get a whiff of that earthy sweet scent. As much as I could get lost in it, I force my mind to focus on the literature.
“A cow’s ear can tell us so much. All we have to do is attach a special sensor to every cow’s ear, and it will send info on the fertility, health, and even location of the cow back to the app. The sensors monitor temperature and movement, so they can even tell when the cow is eating and drinking and for how long.”
Dean reaches into the box and pulls out a sample ear sensor.
“So this goes through the cow’s ear. How do I put it on?”
“There is an applicator, so it isn’t too hard, but I can help do that. See the code on the back there,” I point, and he flips the sample over in his hand. “We scan that on each sensor before we attach it, then input the cow’s info like name, birthday, sex, and then attach the sensor to that cow so that it can sync up.”
“Sounds like a lot to set up.”
“It is, but once it is up and running, the data will feed right into the app, and the sensors can be wiped and repurposed again and again. The pack even comes with a small solar-powered router that we can mount up on the corner of the large barn to help with picking up the data when the cows move to the furthest corners of the paddocks.”
The waitress arrives and clears her throat to gain our attention.
“Two veggie burgers and fries, one side of bacon. Can I get you any drinks or are you happy with water?”
“Water is good,” Dean says. “Can we have a jug, please?”
“Sure, be right back,” she replies dryly.
“Okay, we’ll do the trial,” Dean says, picking up his burger and inspecting it like it might up and grow legs.
“Really? You don’t want to hear more about it?”
“Nope, if you think it will be good, I trust you, Doc. I must, I’m about to eat a green burger.”
“It isn’t green, it’s…” I pick up mine and notice the slight green tint to the non-meat patty. “Okay, so it’s a little green. Just close your eyes. I swear you can’t tell it’s not meat.”
He reluctantly squeezes his eyes shut, then takes a big bite. I watch as his mouth makes all forms of expressions as he chews and then he swallows, and he opens his eyes again.
“So, how was it?” I ask, and he picks off the top of the bun and tips the side of bacon on top of the non-beef patty.
“I could tell.”
“Could not.”
“You were in grade three when you stopped eating meat, Doc. I think I’m a better judge of what tastes like beef and what doesn’t.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. Well, I’m actually pretty impressed you tried it. I was scared to try anything for so long when I was travelling.”
“Where was your favorite place to see?” he asks, tossing the sensor back in the box, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward a little, eagerly awaiting my reply. Or eagerly trying to delay taking another bite of the veggie burger.
Few people want to know about the places I’ve been. They mostly just congratulate me for coming to my senses and coming home. While I knew I would always end up back at Bellerelle, and it was something I was excited to do, I still loved my time away and figure, one day, I’ll get back to some of those places or even see somewhere new.
“Madagascar. I saw my first chameleon there, and the guide who was taking me through the National Park had a lemur that would come and sit on his shoulder. Those things have the most intense wide eyes and their tails are just too cute with those little stripes.”
“You would have seen so many different animals. I always wanted to travel.”
“Really?” I ask, and he nods like an excited child about to tell a story.
“I would love to see Africa, Greece, and Australia. Did you know they have some of the biggest ranches in Australia? They call them cattle stations, though. Some are the size of a small country.”
He’s talking super fast, but I can keep up.
“I didn’t know that,” I say, taking a bite of my burger and letting him tell me all about the places he’d love to visit one day. More than half I’ve already seen, but I don’t tell him that right now. It’s too much fun seeing how excited he is at the idea of exploring the world one day.
“You should plan a trip,” I tell him after we’re done eating our burgers and the waitress has gone to collect our pie.
“I will, one day. Maybe when my own kids are grown and they take over the ranch, I’ll do an entire world trip like you did. You can help me plan it.”
“Happy to help. Just say the word and I’m there.”