Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Cassidy
T he arrival of the newcomers the day before had brought much excitement to the ranch and not all because Silas was there for the first time in months. A couple of months ago, his parents chose to retire, rather suddenly, or so it seemed. Silas hadn’t even mentioned anything to Ethan, who got the same shock as everyone else at the announcement.
It was that Silas had come with all his brothers. There’d been a lot of speculation as to why they would all come on a team building retreat to the ranch when they were now all in charge and working together at Starling Enterprises.
Cassidy, unlike the other guys who worked on the ranch, had paid little mind to the new arrivals. He wasn’t interested in them other than being polite and friendly. Some of the single ranch hands took an interest in any new arrival, in case they’d be up for a bit of fun. The only one Cassidy wanted to catch the eye of and have fun with was Trey.
You already caught his eye.
Thanks for reminding me.
You’re welcome.
“Bubba, come on darlin’, you gotta wiggle that cute backside outta there. You're makin’ me late, and Ethan will have my hide, never mind yours. I have a group to work with today,” he coaxed.
The loud squeaking noises that followed, along with some grunts, did not sound amused.
Bubba, a Kunekune pig, was tiny and a Houdini. Highly intelligent, he had figured out how to escape the pig pen to come up and visit Cassidy. He didn’t come every day, but because he was so small and couldn’t climb the steps to the porch, he would go under and squeak and grunt loudly to get Cassidy’s attention. The problem was, he was tiny, but his belly wasn’t, so he’d get stuck under the porch. Like he was now. Cassidy was too big to go under and get him, so he had to talk Bubba out of the tight squeeze.
“Excuse me. Erm, can you tell us where we can find Cassidy?”
In a fluid move, Cassidy rose from where he was crouched, looking at the group of men all dressed in jeans and plaid shirts that didn’t make them look any more like a cowboy than if they’d worn a sign saying it.
He tipped his cowboy hat. “I’m Cassidy. They call me Cass around these parts.”
“I’m Hollis,” said the man in front of the group. He pointed to the other men one by one, “Bowie, Wilder, Monty, Frey, Isley, Lennon and that’s Ziggy.” They all raised a hand and offered him a smile, some more nervous than others.
“Nice to meetcha. I’m sorry, I’m runnin’ a little behind as Bubba is stuck. I’ve been tryin’ to coax him out from under the porch steps.”
“Bubba?” Frey asked, coming closer and crouching down to peer under the steps.
“A Kunekune pig I hand reared. He’s real clever, just not when it comes to judgin’ gaps, which gets him wedged under my cabin, more often than not.” Cassidy released a heartfelt sigh.
“I could shift and go help him, if he wouldn’t freak at my fox.”
“Why, that’s mighty kind of you. Bubba’s not frightened of other animals.” Cassidy lowered his voice. “He got little pig syndrome.”
Bowie came forward, looking intrigued. “What’s that?”
“Why, he believes he’s bigger than all the other animals.”
“Is that bad?” Bowie sounded worried.
“Nope, he’s a small pig with a big attitude. The other animals don’t hold it against him ‘cause he don’t mean no harm.”
While he was talking, Frey stripped off his shirt and Cassidy noticed the mating mark before Frey shifted. He peered up out of his jeans as he wiggled to climb out. A moment later he sniffed under the porch, then he made a small vocal noise that was cute as the fox himself before he crawled under.
There was some grunting and more squealing, then Bubba darted out between Cassidy’s legs, his little black body wiggling with excitement. Cassity laughed, scooping Bubba up to kiss the dirty snout. “How many times I gotta say, don’t go under the porch?”
The hairy snout rubbed Cassidy’s cheek as Bubba recounted just how happy he was to see Cassidy. Then he noticed the crowd of men, and he grunt-snorted a greeting at them, causing them to giggle.
“He’s cute,” Bowie murmured. “Do you think he’d mind if I stroked him?”
“He’s not a horse,” Wilder pointed out.
“He likes bein’ petted.” Cassidy strolled closer to Bowie. “Hold out your arms.” When he did, Cassidy laid Bubba in the crook of Bowie’s arm, getting a shy smile in response. “See? He’ll stay in the crook of your arm all day if you let him.”
Cassidy chuckled as Bubba rested his hairy chin on Bowie’s forearm and closed his eyes, making a snorting noise that was all pleasure when Bowie stroked a gentle finger down his back.
“Frey, do you need a place to shift and dress in private?” Hollis looked about as Frey sat next to his clothes, a few cobwebs stuck to his brush.
“He can use my cabin, if that suits?”
Frey walked up the steps and waited at the door. Cassidy got beaten to collecting Frey’s clothes by Ziggy.
“Door’s open, we’ll wait here for you. Then I can take you up to the henhouse to meet my girls.”
“Your girls?” Lennon asked, blushing as Cassidy gave him a wide smile.
“Yep, my chicks.”
Wilder went to Bowie and gave Bubba a scritch behind his ears. “I like this when folks do it to my raccoon.”
“Don’t I know it,” Bowie moaned. “The last time you wouldn’t let me stop for over an hour. My arm felt like it didn’t belong to me.”
Cassidy listened to them chatting, seeing easily they were more than folks who worked together. They were friends. Some were quieter than others, except they always included everyone when they were talking. A family. That’s what they were.
Frey came out of his cabin, his hair a little messier than it had been. “I never thought my first job was gonna be helping a stuck pig.” He grinned cheekily as he came down the steps. “Wait till I tell Emmy I got to recuse a pig.”
“Emmy?” Cassidy assumed Frey must be talking about his mate.
“My daughter. She’s at home with Derick and Lane.” His smile dipped a little before it brightened. “They’re having a blast with her from the number of pictures I’m getting. Do you wanna see?”
“Say no.” Wilder gripped Cassidy’s arm. “Don’t let him drag you into that trap of cuteness. It’ll make your whole day disappear.”
“As Ethan would have my hide for that, what say we get started and then you can show me when we take a break?”
“Wise move,” Hollis muttered, giving Frey a look that suggested he behave, which totally by-passed the dude when he pulled out his phone and flashed a picture of a cute baby at him.
“She’s a cutie for sure,”—he started walking—“and will be a real heartbreaker when she gets bigger.”
Frey showed him several more pictures, getting groans from the others, though they all wore the same sappy grin as Frey when he flashed the phone at them, before they had put Bubba back in the pigpen and got greeted by the girls.
“Has that chicken got a tutu on?” Isley peered over the fence, his eyes so wide Cassidy struggled to keep from laughing at the obvious shock. He went to open the gate, and the chickens rushed towards him.
“That one’s got a sweater on,” Lennon whispered. “Oh, and that one.”
“Where would you buy something like that?” Bowie questioned, leaning over the fence to get a closer look.
Cassidy grinned, used to the questions, though these were politer than some. “I knit the sweaters for them and make the tutu’s. My girls like to look pretty.” He shrugged causally, heading through the gate.
The noise they made as they gathered around him, like a pack of wild hens, halted those following him. “Now come on girls, you know that ain’t how we greet visitors.”
The squawking and wing flapping came down a notch.
Lulu made a beeline for Bowie, who hovered in the gateway. Cassidy didn’t get to say a word as Bowie got down on his knees and offered her his finger. “She’s so tiny.”
“She’s a Seramas frizzle. Frizzle means she got all those pretty wild colored curly feathers.”
Lulu pecked and fluffed out her feathers because she knew Cassidy was talking about her. “I breed various kinds. There’s a market for chicken feathers.”
When Cassidy first started working on the ranch, there weren’t many chickens, and they’d roamed free. As his animal side was a chicken, and he had an affinity for them, he had seen an opportunity to start a breeding program of different breeds that were popular for eggs, feathers, and meat.
“Feathers?” Bowie asked, as three more of the ladies went over to show interest in him.
“Feathers. They have a lot of keratin, a protein which, when harvested from the feathers, can help balance plastic structures and make the plastic stronger. It’s big business, if only on a small scale for Darling Ranch.” He gave a sheepish smile. “I really just love having lots of little chicks of my own.”
“What type is the one in purple?” Frey asked, finally braving stepping through the gate, side stepping Bowie and the chicks.
Cassidy didn’t need to look because only one of his girls wore purple. “Lynda is a La Fleche.”
“She looks… interesting,” Wilder muttered, lifting his feet, watching the chicks as they darted around him.
“Ya mean the satanic-looking feather display?” Cassidy whispered. “It’s why she prefers to wear her sweaters.”
Lennon muffled a giggle behind his hand. Cassidy got it, she was a wild-looking chick.
Cassidy continued to talk about his girls, grabbing pails and handing them out. “We need to collect eggs first, then clean out the henhouses before feeding.”
He glanced at the group, seeing enthusiastic smiles. He was sure that would change when they got to the chicken poop, but it was a good start because no one had run off like the chap from the month before. The guy from New York had made rude comments about his girls, then called Cassidy crazy. His chicks had gotten affronted and sent him packing in a barrage of peeking and wing flapping. “That okay?”
“We are in your hands,” Hollis answered, apparently for everyone.
“Great, then let’s get crackin’.”