Chapter 2 #2
“You guys don’t do things because someone tells you to. You do them because you decide they’re worth doing.”
Out of the mouths of younglings. The boy had been paying more attention than I’d given him credit for.
“That’s accurate,” I said.
“Is that why regular horse training doesn’t work with them?” Carla asked.
“Part of it. Horse training often relies on dominance and control. You establish yourself as the herd leader and use that position to direct behavior.” I guided Thrakul into another demonstration, showing how he could navigate tight spaces and respond to minimal hand cues.
“Sorhoxes respond better to partnership. You can’t force them.
You have to earn their cooperation every single day. ”
“That must take patience,” Holly said.
“Everything worthwhile takes patience.” I caught myself.
That sounded like something Wexla used to say.
I pushed the thought away and focused on the demonstration.
“For rodeo applications, this means we can develop more complex routines than you’d see with traditional livestock.
Thrakul could learn choreographed sequences, respond to music cues, even work with multiple handlers if needed. ”
“How elaborate are we talking about here?” Carla asked, her pen moving rapidly across her tablet.
“Depends on what the tourists want to see and what events they hope to participate in.” I brought Thrakul through a series of maneuvers that showed his agility and responsiveness.
“Simple exhibitions? We could have something running within eight months. Full rodeo performances with multiple animals and handlers will be two years, minimum.”
I could see her mental calculations again. Two years was a long time in money terms, but if she was serious about doing this right…
“The tourists will expect something impressive,” she said. “This isn’t just about having a rodeo program. It’s about having something unique that they can’t see anywhere else.”
Exactly. Someone finally understood.
“Can I try?” Max asked.
“Max,” Holly said with a roll of her eyes.
“Just something small. Hail taught me basic commands when he was working with me.”
Max had been around sorhoxes enough to know simple safety, and Thrakul was in a good mood. I also needed to know how sorhoxes dealt with inexperienced handlers.
“Easy commands only,” I said. “And you do exactly what I say.”
“Cool!” He climbed into the arena.
I spent the next few minutes taking Max through basic interaction with Thrakul. The boy was patient, confident but not aggressive, and he read the sorhox’s body language instinctively. Thrakul responded well to him, which spoke well for future tourist interactions.
“Look at that,” Aunt Inla said proudly. “Our Max is doing a great job.”
“He is. He has good instincts,” I said. “Thrakul likes him.”
“Could you teach tourists to handle something like this?” Carla asked, watching Max guide Thrakul through a simple turn.
I watched her process the safety implications, the way her mind immediately went to protecting both tourists and sorhoxes. Most consultants would’ve been focused on liability and insurance costs. She was thinking about doing it right.
“Some of them. The ones who listen and don’t think they know better than the handler.” I kept my voice neutral, but she caught the implication.
“Fair point. We’d need strict safety protocols and probably insurance waivers.”
“We’ve already thought of that.”
When Max and I finished, Carla tucked her tablet into her bag. “That was incredible. The level of communication between you and Thrakul is unlike anything I’ve seen. And the possibilities for unique tourist experiences are going to bring them here in droves.”
“It’ll take time to develop.” I led Thrakul back toward his corral. “Months, maybe a year. There are no shortcuts.”
“Which is why rushing to establish a rodeo program could be problematic,” she said. “The sorhoxes need to trust their handlers completely before they can perform safely in front of crowds.”
I stopped and looked at her. Two days ago, she’d been focused on timelines and protocols. Today, she was thinking about the animals’ welfare first. She was beginning to understand that this wasn’t only about having a rodeo, it was about having the right kind of rodeo.
“Yes,” I said. “Safety comes from the relationship, not just equipment.”
“Then we need to build the program around developing those relationships,” she said.
“The timeline might need to be longer than originally planned, but the end result will be something truly special.” She gazed at me with determination in her eyes.
“You want to create something here that’ll draw tourists for years, not a season or two. ”
She understood. More than that, she seemed willing to fight for what was right, even if it meant more work for her.
“I’m glad you care about them and about doing it right.”
Her cheeks flushed. “That’s my job.”
“No,” I said. “Your job is to establish a program that meets the contract requirements. Caring about the sorhoxes’ welfare and the quality of the end result is something else entirely.”
She didn’t have an answer for that, but she didn’t need one. The way she looked at Thrakul, with respect and genuine interest, said everything.
Footsteps approached from the direction of town. Lavon, the new orc chef at the saloon, walked toward us.
“Hello,” he said with a polite nod when he reached us, before directing his attention Holly’s way. “I wanted to speak with you about the holiday menu additions before the breakfast rush starts.”
Aunt Inla straightened, smoothing her floral prairie dress and patting her silver-threaded hair.
“Of course.” Holly hopped off the rail and strode over to where he waited.
Lavon’s dark eyes found Inla sitting on the fence rail, and he inclined his head. “Good morning to you, Inla.”
“A lovely day, isn’t it, Lavon?” The tips of her pointed ears darkened. “How are you settling in at the saloon?”
“Well, thank you for asking.”
Carla looked between Aunt Inla and Lavon, clearly noting something I wasn’t seeing.
Lavon glanced my way. “Holly mentioned you were demonstrating sorhox handling today. I hope it’s going well.”
“It is. I used Max as a test, and he shows natural ability.”
Lavon smiled. “Younglings often see possibilities where adults see only obstacles.”
“Speaking of which,” Holly said. “We should let you get back to work. Max, come on. The bakery won’t run itself.”
Max’s shoulders drooped. “But I want to see more training.”
“Another time. Becken and Carla have work to do, and I need to speak with Lavon. You need to do your homework.” She smiled at Carla. “He has a half-day today and won’t be going in until after lunch.”
“Okay,” Max said with a sigh.
“I’ll walk back with you,” Lavon told Holly. “We can discuss those menu items along the way.”
As the three left, Aunt Inla scooted off the railing, landing gracefully on the ground. She hurried to catch up to them. “Lavon, if you need any supplies from the general store—”
“I’ll be sure to stop by,” he said. “Perhaps tomorrow?”
“That would be delightful.”
Delightful, huh?
After they left, the arena felt quiet again. Different than usual, though. Instead of the solitude I typically craved, I could sense an expectant energy in the air.
Carla remained by the fence, watching the group disappear toward town. “They’re really invested in this program’s success.”
“More than I expected when I agreed to take this job. In the orc kingdom, work was work. Here, everything seems to be community business.”
“Does that bother you?”
I considered the question. “Less than it should, maybe.”
She turned back toward me, and I caught something thoughtful in her expression. “You didn’t expect to like it here.”
It wasn’t really a question. “I expected to do a job and leave.”
“And now?”
Now I was starting to see why my cousins had chosen to stay. But that felt like too much to admit, even to myself.
“Now I have work to do.”
“What’s next?” She gestured toward the arena. “I’m here to work, as well, not just observe demonstrations.” Genuine curiosity and determination shone on her face. She wanted to understand, not just document.
“We could work on the training schedule,” I said. “If you’re going to design a program around sorhox capabilities, you need to know what a full day might look like.”
We went into my office, and for the next two hours, we talked in general about training, moving on to how to set up a schedule for activities tourists might be interested in participating in.
She made detailed notes and asked insightful questions.
I watched the way she worked, admiring how thorough she was.
Methodical, but not rigid. When she disagreed with something I suggested, she explained her reasoning instead of just dismissing it.
I was starting to understand why she’d been successful in this field.
I found myself noticing things I hadn’t before, like how she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was concentrating and how she bit her lower lip when she was processing something I’d told her.
Focus on the work, I reminded myself.
We went outside, and I demonstrated some of the things we might offer tourists.
I had tons of ideas, but I could see from our conversation that only some of them would work.
If I tried to do them all, I’d be overwhelmed.
We could hire staff, but it made sense to offer select classes and activities I could easily handle with limited help at the start of the program.
“The vocalizations you use with the sorhox aren’t random, are they?” she said during a break.
We leaned against the railing, watching the beasts scrape away snow to graze in an adjacent pasture.