Chapter Three
Pulling up to the corrals,I noted that all the hands were there and separating calves from mothers. It wasn’t an easy job. There were plenty of upset mamas and bawling calves. Landon stood beside the smaller corral, dressed for chores in denim, flannel, undershirt, boots, and his tan cowboy hat. I parked beside him as the young men, dressed much like Landon and myself, slowly and quietly worked on getting the job done.
“Morning,” I said as I walked up to stand beside Landon. Perry was in charge, not that the hands needed much instruction. It was pretty straight forward. Small cattle into a small pen. Herd calf into a chute. Close a gate behind the calf when its head was through the automatic head gate. Grab the ear tag pliers and a tag. Attach the tag to the left ear. Open the head gates. Lather, rinse, repeat. I nodded at Kyle standing on the other side of the owner. He gave me a bob of his head then his attention went back to cataloging calves and numbers. All that info would be fed into the computer on my desk this evening. We kept tight records here. Inventory, individual animal identification, market weights, pasture usage, pregnancy data, calving data, feed, sire information. It all had to be tracked and collated in order to run a profitable ranch. The hunting and fishing cabin rentals were also entered into the books for taxes and our own use. There were days I spent more time at the computer than I did in the saddle or on the four-wheeler.
“Morning,” Landon replied, one bootheel hooked over the bottom rung of the metal fencing.
“You ready for Europe?” I asked then leaned my hip against the fence.
“We are, thanks. I wanted to see a bit of this and talk to you before I left.” He spun from the tagging to me. Kyle moved away a bit to give us some privacy. “I had a call this morning at the ass crack of dawn from Shepherd McCrary over at the Hollow Wind Ranch.”
I rolled my eyes to the bright blue sky. “And what is his particular issue this morning?”
“Seems a few of his hands were out riding fence when they spotted two of our guests on the Hollow Wind side of the river.” He tipped his hat back a bit. “Is there a problem between us and our neighbor that I need to know about?”
“It’s a long story and goes back to the previous owner of the Prairie Smoke. The bad blood came around in the late seventies.”
“Let me guess. There’s a woman involved?” Landon tipped his head. I nodded. He sighed. “Why am I not surprised.”
“Love does peculiar things to a person, no doubt. There’s too many minor incidents to list them all but the senior McCrary taught his grandson Shepherd well. Despite the fact that the lady in question chose to stay with Milford McCrary and the man who was tomcatting around with a married woman died five years ago, the bitterness between the Hollow Wind and the Prairie Smoke lingers.”
“Great,” he huffed, glancing over when a young calf tried to leap over the top rail separating her from her mother. “Well seems Mr. McCrary would like to have a word with me later this evening, but I’ll be on a plane to Munich. Can you ride over and smooth this out?”
“Yep, any time.” Landon seemed pleased with that. Maybe I’d saddle up Tiberius for the ride over. If I crossed at the pinch point in the Jante River, it would be about thirty minutes to the Hollow Wind main house on horseback. A nice ride on a cool May night sounded mighty good. I could even swing around the dig site to see if Bishop had been eaten by a bear or not. If he had that would reflect poorly on the ranch and me. Dead bun wearing professors were bad for business.
“I’ll go talk to McCrary,” Kyle chimed as he walked past, nose still in his phone.
“Nope, you won’t. You’re barred from the Hollow Wind land, remember?” I tossed over my shoulder.
The big man shrugged then moseyed along chuckling all the while.
“Do I want to know?” Landon asked.
“When you get back from Europe, I’ll fill you in some night. Suffice it to say, I have a handle on things.” Landon seemed placated, at least for the moment. “Also, your dinosaur man is here. Rolled me out of bed at four in the morning.” Landon’s eyes flared. “Yeah, he has a real exuberance for bones.”
“Is the paleontologist here?” Perry asked, popping up on the other side of the fence like a jack-in-the-box.
“He is, and he’s out at the dig site alone. We’ll need someone to ride out before sunset and fetch him. I might—”
“I’ll go!” Perry chirped, his hazel eyes aglow. “I’ll get my work done here then head over. Maybe he’ll need a hand cataloging his finds.”
The guy looked like a puppy begging for a handout. There was no way to deny him. So I gave him a go ahead grunt that got me a blinding grin in return.
“Good then we’re set. Can I get you to run Montrell and me to the airport? Our flight leaves at three.”
“Yep, no problem. I have to pick up a father and son turkey hunt coming in from New Jersey at two.”
Landon slapped my shoulder. “Excellent! You’re always right on top of things. I’m going to head back to the big house, shower off the smell of cow shit, and finish packing before my husband comes looking for me. See you at noon.” He made his way to his four-wheeler and rode off into the sunset. Or I guess sunrise if one were being technical. In a way, it was pleasing to have the owner notice the hard work that went on here. On the other hand, I had run this place for him in absentia for years and for the previous owner as well. I did kind of know what to do. Turning from the sight of the famous jock stopping by the horse paddock to feed Jezebel, his favored palomino mare, a handful of baby carrots, I got my head into the job ahead and climbed over the fence just as quickly as I had years ago. Mostly.
* * *
The day was spent running.Running after calves and then running people to and from Jackson Hole airport. After shuttling the father and son hunters, who were hoping to bag one of our Merriam’s or Rio Grande gobblers, I advised them to keep clear of the Hollow Wind land then set them up with a local guide, Fred Blue Legs. Fred would take them out to some prime turkey habitat and keep them off McCrary property. Which was where I was headed now.
I’d eaten at the airport so dinner would be a late snack over adding some two hundred calves into the database—the other two hundred would be tagged tomorrow. I gave the sky a last look as I ambled into the stable, breathing in the smells and sounds. Nothing soothed a soul like fresh hay and the tang of horse. I found my bay quarter horse gelding, Tiberius, in stall number two as always. He knickered upon seeing me, tossing his head up and down, black mane whipping.
“Been too long,” I whispered as I ran a hand down his velvety smooth nose, taking extra time to scratch his white blaze. He ran his rubbery lips along my ear and neck. “You won’t find any apples in my ear, you old fool.”
This horse and I had a lot in common. At twenty, he had come to the ranch from a city stable in Cody. He’d been one of about forty horses and had not been given the care a senior horse should have gotten. That was almost ten years ago. After changing his feed, improving his dental care, and changing his worming regime, the old coot was still going strong. He wasn’t ridden by anyone but me, unlike the other horses here, as was due to his age. He had earned some easy days, and his papers had my name on them not Landon Reece’s. He was mine. The only thing that I owned. Bane didn’t count. No one owned a cat, a cat owned you.