Shared By the Cowboys by Cassie Cole

7

Rebecca

Once I had put my horse away, I got to work on the list of chores Mason had given me. First was tending to the chickens. They were wandering around in the yard, picking at bugs and other objects on the ground, so I went into the coop and collected their eggs in a basket. There were three pale eggs, four brown, and three that had a blue shade to them.

As I carried the eggs away, I noticed that the rooster was angrily pecking at a few of the hens. I paused and watched him strut around the yard.

“That’s Mister Pam,” Cody said.

I turned and saw the blond cowboy walking by with a coil of rope. “Pam?”

“Funny story, according to the previous owner,” he said. “It’s tough to tell the sex of a chick. Sometimes you buy a box of chicks that you think is all hens, but then it turns out one or two are roosters. They named this fella Pam, and by the time they realized he was a he, the name had stuck. I haven’t bothered to learn all the hens’ names, but I know Mister Pam. And he’s angrier than a pillowcase full of hornets.”

“He’s got an attitude because everyone assumed his gender wrong for so long,” I replied. “I’d be pissed too!”

Cody laughed and tipped his hat. “I reckon you’re right!”

After putting the eggs away, I set out to milk the goats. They were both tame and allowed me to milk them without a fuss. They each produced about a gallon of milk, which I refrigerated for later.

Gardening was next on the list. The garden was divided into sections: herbs, tomatoes, bell peppers, and radishes. After ten minutes of weeding my back was killing me from being bent over so much. One of the goats came over to the garden fence and stared at me.

“What are you looking at?” I asked.

The goat only cocked its head at me.

Around noon the dairy cow was delivered. A big truck pulling a cattle trailer came down the driveway and stopped in front of the house. Mason met the man, exchanged a few words, and signed some paperwork. Then they led the cow off the trailer and into the barn.

After the truck left, Cody walked back out to Wildfire’s pen with a coil of rope. I used it as an excuse to stop weeding. I stretched my back and watched him open the gate to the round pen, then slip inside.

He muttered softly to the horse while calmly walking around the perimeter of the pen. For a few minutes that’s all he did: walk and talk. He didn’t try to get close to the horse. He was just letting it get used to him.

Then he turned and slowly walked toward Wildfire in the middle of the pen. The horse let him get close, then abruptly snorted out of his nostrils and walked sideways away from the cowboy. Cody followed him for a little bit, still saying soothing words and gesturing with a carrot, but the horse never allowed him to get close.

Eventually Cody gave up and exited the pen.

“How many tries is that?” I called.

He removed his hat and wiped his forehead. “Two.”

“Maybe he’ll put out on the third date,” I said hopefully.

He laughed and pointed at me. “I like that. You’re a funny one, Becca.”

Mason walked across the yard holding a saw and hammer. “We don’t have time for this, Cody.”

“Breaking him sooner is better than later,” Cody argued. “The longer we wait, the harder it’ll be.”

“We have too much to do around here,” Mason said.

“I’ll find the time. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m your older brother. Worrying’s my job,” Mason said.

Cody clapped him on the back. “Don’t I know it!”

Mason put his tools away in the shed, then came over to the garden. “We’re making a supply run into town. Did you put what you need on the grocery list?”

“Everything’s on there,” I replied. “Yogurt, bread, snacks. The chicken breasts are for the dinner I’m going to make. Pasta with chicken.”

“Woah, keep your voice down,” Cody whispered. “Mister Pam is gonna hear you.” He turned toward the chicken coop and raised his voice. “She’s getting pork, not chicken! Don’t y’all worry!”

Mason snorted a laugh. “If you need anything, Blake’s out by the fence.”

“Will he actually help me if I ask?”

“Probably not,” Mason replied with a smirk. “But I figured I’d mention it anyway.”

The two of them hopped into their truck and drove away. I watched the kicked-up trail of dust grow farther and farther away until it disappeared.

I resumed weeding the garden. The sun was high overhead now, and I was beginning to sweat. But it felt good to be outside. Most of the time I worked in an office chair, typing away on my laptop. This was a nice change of pace. And it reminded me of growing up on my parents’ ranch.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Wildfire pacing in his pen. Moving around the perimeter to look for a way out.

I finished my gardening, went inside to make myself a peanut butter sandwich, and came back out. I sat on the rocking chair on the porch and ate my sandwich while watching Wildfire pace and snort and stomp around.

The bad idea crept into my head slowly. What Cody had said was true: it was easier to break a horse sooner rather than later. The longer you left him unbroken on your ranch, the harder it would eventually be to tame him.

If I could break Wildfire, it would be helpful for the ranch. It would free up Cody to do other stuff, and prove my own value in the process. They would know I wasn’t only good for small chores like weeding and collecting eggs.

And deep down, I desperately wanted Mason to like me. I could picture him grinning at me, surprised and impressed and approving…

I finished my sandwich and wiped my hands. “Here goes nothing.”