Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
He arched a brow, so I continued.
“You talked to my boss.”
“I did.”
“He’s… particular. Likes things done a certain way. Likes data and daily updates. I think that’s why I like working for him. I like data, too. It’s important to monitor follicular growth, and keeping good records on the mare’s specific history is important. It can indicate… well, you know what it can indicate.”
I sighed, realizing I was probably oversharing. Clint wasn’t just a hick cowboy. He was building a quality stud program here and knew his stuff.
“I like to see horses well cared for,” he replied. “As you said, Claymore might be eccentric, but he knows Wolf Ranch has a worthy stallion in Eddison.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, we did research on that as well. My job’s more than data. He’s got twenty horses and is trying his hand at sheep. The trainers and other staff report to me with any issues, and I have to oversee them all. Even from here.”
“You specialize in big animal medicine?”
“In my job, yes. Mr. Claymore has a black lab who comes to me for shots, but otherwise, it’s all big animals there. I also volunteer at the local animal shelter and spay and neuter dogs and cats once a month.”
“You keep busy. It’s good to see. No one can be lazy on a ranch like this.”
I took in the land around us. Open fields in all directions until they butted up to the mountains. Tall grass, big skies. It was beautiful. The ranch was well maintained, and it showed. I could live in a place like this. While Mr. Claymore’s ranch was expansive and tucked back up in the foothills, it was close to Denver. It would be considered practically suburban, while here… it was rural through and through.
No rush hour. No commuting.
“My life got a little crazier this year,” he continued. “I lived in the bunkhouse until the fall.”
“I heard you and your wife had a baby. Congratulations,” I said, smiling, imagining this big guy holding a tiny infant.
Clint grinned. “Thanks. Those of us staying in the bunkhouse usually eat dinner at the main house with the others, family style, but breakfast and lunch is a catch all since everyone’s doing different things. As a guest, Marina’s expecting you to pop in for all your meals, but you’re welcome to grab some stuff at the store if you want to eat on your own or if you’ve got some kind of food allergy. I can take you into town or tell you where to go.”
“I don’t want to make extra work for Marina.”
He laughed. “Just wait.”
He didn’t say more as we went to the back and went in without knocking. The screen door slapped shut behind us. The scent of yeasty bread and coffee made my stomach rumble.
“Hey, Marina. This is Charlie.” Clint took his hat off, setting it on the counter and making his way to the coffee pot.
The petite woman looked up from her bread kneading on the center island of the huge eat-in kitchen. The space was dated, but homey and lived in. Based on the amount of dough in front of her, she spent a lot of time in here. And fed a lot of people. With the dining table large enough to seat at least ten, it was clearly the central meeting spot of the ranch.
She had long dark hair pulled back into a bun, a black t-shirt dotted with flour and a pair of cut-off jean shorts. “I wondered when you were going to get hungry.”
“Thanks so much for the plate last night. I’m sorry I slept through the meal.” I told her. I’d thanked Levi, but he was the delivery guy, not the cook. “It was delicious.”
Clint held his to-go mug up. “I’m set. Thanks,” he said to Marina then looked to me. “I ate at the cabin before I left this morning. Lily was up early for a feeding, so I had breakfast with my girls. This extra shot of caffeine will do the trick though. You good from here?”
Nodding, I said, “Yes, thanks. I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.” My cell chimed, indicating a text, and I laughed. “See?”
Clint nodded, gave Marina’s shoulder a squeeze and left the way we came in.
“I’ve got cinnamon rolls in the warming drawer. If that’s not your thing, I can make you some eggs.”
I held up my hand. “You had me at cinnamon rolls.”
She laughed. “Grab some coffee. Mugs are in the cabinet above the pot.”
I stayed out of her way as she efficiently moved about, setting a sticky, glaze-covered bun onto a plate and setting it at the far end of the counter where there were two stools. She set a fork and napkin beside it. “Milk or sugar?”
I sat down then took a sip of the coffee. “Black’s fine. Thanks.”