2. Farmyard Standoff
Farmyard Standoff
Reid
I woke up with Walter sprawled across my chest like a furry paperweight, his little body rising and falling with each of my breaths. He’d fallen asleep next to me, but somehow he always ended up using me as a dog bed.
“Morning, buddy.” I scratched behind his ears, earning a sleepy tail thump against my ribs. “Time to get up.”
Walter responded by burrowing deeper against my neck, clearly voting to extend our time in bed. Hard to argue with that logic, but the ranch waited for no man or chihuahua.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed, careful to cradle Walter as I stood. He gave me a look of betrayal, all big eyes and an accusatory glare that somehow made me feel guilty despite the fact that he’d get to nap again approximately fifteen minutes after breakfast.
“Don’t give me that look. It’s a privilege to sleep on the bed.” I set him on the floor, where he immediately shook himself awake and stared up at me like I’d hung the moon.
Who was I kidding? Ever since I’d adopted him from the shelter three years ago, he’d had me wrapped around his paw. I could never make him sleep on the floor or in his actual dog bed.
After changing into jeans and a T-shirt, I headed downstairs with Walter trotting at my heels.
I entered the kitchen to find Enzo plating eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes. He looked up from where he was meticulously arranging bacon strips, his face as serious as if he were defusing a bomb. “Horses are already turned out. Got up early to check the north pasture fence line.”
“Again?” I filled Walter’s bowl with kibble before pouring myself a cup of coffee. “Didn’t we fix that section last month?”
“Wild pigs.” He said it like he was naming his archnemesis. “Found tracks all along it.”
I leaned against the counter and took a long sip of coffee. “Want me to reinforce it this afternoon?”
“Already ordered materials.” He slid a plate my way, loaded with enough food to feed a small militia. “Kellan’s handling the pickup after the... event.”
The way he said “event” made it sound like we were hosting an exorcism instead of a hobby horse competition winner.
I couldn’t blame him. When Kellan had first pitched the idea, I thought he was joking.
There was an entire subculture that pranced around on stick horses, and apparently, we were about to welcome one of them to La Cuesta Ranch with open arms.
I took my plate to the table. “Do we have any idea if this woman has been around actual horses before?”
Enzo’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly. “Kellan’s been emailing with her and said she was scared of them.”
I nearly choked on the bacon I’d popped in my mouth. “And she’s coming here?”
We had twenty-six horses on the property currently if you counted Eggatha, who thought she was a horse. Even if this hobby horse chick did just practice on her stick, there was no avoiding the horses.
The sound of the back door closing announced Kellan’s arrival before his voice boomed through the kitchen. “Good morning!” He swept in with white teeth and energy that had no business existing before the sun rose fully. “How are my favorite grumpy cowboys on this beautiful day?”
Walter abandoned his food bowl to dance excitedly at Kellan’s feet, his nails making the cute little tapping sound I adored. Kellan scooped him up, planting a kiss on his head before setting him back down.
“I’m not grumpy.” Enzo put a plate in Kellan’s spot at the table.
“Your scowl says otherwise.” Kellan plopped down in his seat and grabbed a piece of bacon.
“Our champion arrives around noon.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling through something with obvious glee.
“Wait until you see the footage from Vegas. This woman is incredible. Our social follows spiked overnight from the announcement post.”
We’d been dancing around the reality of the decrease in business over the last six months, and I couldn’t deny that increased exposure would be good.
From what I knew about hobby horsing, there was a certain level of horsemanship that was needed, even if they didn’t use real horses.
This was an opportunity to appeal to a broader niche.
“I know y’all aren’t thrilled about gimmicky stuff, but this is perfect timing. This woman went viral two weeks ago, and she’s got this whole following now. We’ll capitalize on the trend and start doing some specialty workshops...”
“Workshops,” Enzo repeated flatly. “For stick horses.”
Kellan pointed his fork at Enzo. “People pay good money for this stuff. Plus, she’s adorable. Wait ‘til you see her.”
Something in his tone made me stop with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to my mouth. There was a gleam in Kellan’s eye I recognized all too well. It was the same look he got right before doing something impulsively and dragging us along for the ride.
“You think she’s hot,” Enzo said, voicing my exact thought.
Kellan placed a hand over his heart, the picture of wounded innocence. “I’m offended by that accusation. I’ll be completely professional.” He paused, a smirk tugging at his lips. “The fact that she happens to be attractive is merely a happy coincidence.”
I exchanged a look with Enzo, who rolled his eyes so hard I was surprised they stayed in his head. “We need to make sure this doesn’t interfere with the actual ranch operations. The boarding clients won’t appreciate their horses being spooked by someone galloping around on a stick.”
Kellan shoveled eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I posted about her being here on social media, and we’ll section off any areas for any training she wants to do. She’ll be far enough from the stables that our boarders won’t even know she’s here.”
“And Debra?” I thought of our notoriously cantankerous donkey, who took personal offense to any change.
Kellan snorted. “Our little darlin’ will be safely tucked away in her paddock, where she can’t terrorize our guest or develop another unhealthy crush.”
I threw a piece of toast at his head, which he let hit his forehead and fall onto his plate. “She doesn’t have a crush on me.” Debra did have an unsettling habit of positioning herself between me and anyone who approached, but I’d hardly call that a crush. “She’s protective.”
“She tried to bite off Enzo’s belt loop last week when he stopped to talk to you in the barn.”
“That’s because he was wearing a new hat.
” I put my fork down, remembering how Debra’s ears had pinned back the moment Enzo approached me.
The donkey had sidled between us with surprising stealth for a creature her size.
It had taken a few apple slices to coax her away from Enzo while he muttered Spanish curses I pretended not to understand.
Enzo snorted. “She’s a menace, and you enable her.”
Walter, sensing the conversation had turned to another four-legged resident, whined at my feet. I absently dropped a small piece of egg down for him, ignoring Enzo’s disapproving look. Sue me for spoiling my dog.
“Anyway, my point is, everything is under control. This guest could bring a lot of fresh eyes to the place, new clientele, some extra cash flow...” He gave us both a pointed look. “Unless either of you has come up with a better idea to fund our expansion?”
The silence that followed was answer enough.
I leaned back against the fence post, squinting against the afternoon sun as sweat trickled down my temple.
We might have been on the Central California coast, but with four miles and hills between us and the water, we lost some of the breeze.
Plus, doing manual labor in the sun always made me feel like it was ten degrees hotter than it was.
Walter lay in the shade nearby, his eyes never leaving me as if I might leave without him.
The little black chihuahua had attached himself to me since the moment I’d first held him at the shelter.
His whole body had been trembling with fear until I’d tucked him against my chest, where he’d immediately calmed.
I gave the gate I’d been repairing an experimental swing. It moved smoothly now, with no signs of the awful squeak that had been on my last nerve. In the distance, I heard the sound of tires on gravel. A quick glance at my watch told me it was just past one.
Our newest guest was arriving.
I gathered my tools, wiped my hands on my jeans, and took a moment to survey the property from where I stood.
La Cuesta Ranch sprawled in all directions, the hills rolling away from the main buildings, dotted with grazing horses.
It wasn’t the biggest ranch in the area, but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
Walter’s ears perked up as the car approached, his tiny body vibrating with excitement. He let out a high-pitched yap before darting toward the parking lot.
“Walter, wait!” I jogged after him, not wanting our guest’s first impression to involve running over my dog.
A silver sedan pulled up to the parking area, dust billowing around it as it came to a stop. Walter reached it before I did, barking enthusiastically as the driver’s side door opened.
I was about twenty feet away when I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. A flash of tan and white, accompanied by an unmistakable bleat.
“Ah, shit.” I picked up my pace.
Butters, our geriatric goat, was making a beeline for the car, which could only mean one thing—he’d escaped. Again. And if Butters was out...
Sure enough, Debra’s angular head appeared around the barn corner, her eyes locked on the intruder with single-minded determination. The donkey moved with surprising speed, her ears flat against her skull.
I had seconds to intercept before chaos erupted.
A woman emerged from the car, and my steps faltered. She wasn’t at all what I’d been expecting. Based on Kellan’s breathless descriptions and the whole hobby horse thing, I’d half-imagined someone in full riding gear with glitter somewhere on her person.