Page 28 of High Density

I’m not exactly happy he called me out here a day early togo over some things, which is what he indicated when he called earlier. It had already started coming down good outside and I was happy to putter around the house, sneaking peeks at JD, who is currently ripping apart my en suite bathroom. He discovered a soft spot in the floor between the toilet and the bathtub, and since the bathroom was near the top of my list of things to do, I told him to go for it.

I glance around the rodeo grounds, noting a couple of trailers and some fencing which is already being put up. I assume those are for pens for the livestock, although the guys working on it are currently huddled under a shelter. We’re still standing out in the open and I’m fast becoming drenched.

“What are we doing here?” I ask, a little annoyed.

“Why don’t we go into the trailer and I’ll tell you.”

He starts walking to one of the trailers and I follow behind, my shoulders hunched against the miserable rain. Inside the trailer, Jericho takes off his hat, and hangs it dripping on a coatrack by the door before running a hand through his thick, gray, impeccable hair. Then he walks over to a large desk and takes a seat in the leather chair behind it.

For a temporary office at a rodeo, the furnishings are a little over-the-top fancy, if you ask me.

Still, my ball cap stays firmly on my head, because I know the hair underneath is a disaster. I feel—and most likely look—like a drowned cat, while this man looks like he came straight off the pages ofGQ.

Life can be so unfair.

“Have a seat.” He gestures to a visitor’s chair across the desk from him.

I perch on the edge of the small club chair, not wanting to ruin the leather upholstery by dripping all over it. Jericho steeples his hands together, the fingertips pressing against his lips as he observes me silently. It gets uncomfortable real fast, so I try to move things along.

“What did you call me in for, Mr. Jericho?” I prompt him.

“Please, call me Phil,” he corrects me immediately. “We’ll be working closely together these coming days, so no need to stand on formalities. I thought we could have a quick walk-through of the days to come, and then, if the rain allows, I can show youaround the site. A bit of an orientation so you’ll know what to expect.”

“Sure.”

“As you know, tomorrow Mackey will start bringing in livestock. They’ve got trucks coming Monday through Wednesday. Some of his stock is coming in from Alberta, which is why all the trucks aren’t arriving at once. That’s the reason we need you here most of the week. I want to make sure each load is checked.”

“How many animals are we talking about?” I inquire, suddenly nervous about the potential scope when I hear him talking about three days of trucks arriving. It sure sounds like a lot.

“A fair number. We’ve got bucking stock, calves, some steers, horses, and whatever Mackey has going on auction. Those are the main ones I want you to worry about. A few other ranchers are trucking in livestock for the auction as well, but those will come with paperwork required for inspection. Then there’ll be the rodeo contestants’ own horses, but those aren’t your concern either, unless they get injured.”

I’m glad I asked Logan to come with me, it sounds like we’re going to have our hands full.

“And every animal needs to be cleared beforehand?”

“For the rodeo, yes. The herd for auction will have to be signed off on, as well, before the livestock agent gets here Thursday morning, but a random sampling might do for those.”

I don’t like the idea of signing a clear bill of health based on the random sampling of a herd, but if we have a chute to run the animals through it can be a fairly quick process. I may need a little more help than just Logan for that though.

“Do you have a plan for the layout of the grounds? So I’ll know where to go tomorrow?”

“Over here.”

He gets up from behind the desk and moves to a couple of folding tables along the far wall, pictures of aerial views and site drawings spread out on top. Jericho points out where the stockyard will be, and the network of gates to move the cattle to the corral where I’ll be working. I’m glad to see they already have a cattle chute planned.

It’s amazing, the logistics to fit a large number of animals, and people, on a relatively small patch of land.

“So the auction is on Thursday afternoon and will be held here.” He points to a larger fenced-off section, two-thirds of it flanked by spectator bleachers. “Also on Thursday, we’ll have vendors setting up here.” He indicates a large open field on the other side of the parking lot. “You’ll want to get here early that day because it’ll be hell trying to get in here later. A lot of the contestants will be showing up then as well.”

“Auction is the only event on Thursday though?”

“Yes. Friday morning the gates open to the public at eleven. We’ve got a fair on the grounds of Airfield Park for the kids. Pony rides, petting zoo, food vendors, that kind of stuff. The rodeo doesn’t officially start until two. I’ll print you out an itinerary.”

We forfeit the tour—it’s still coming down hard outside—but I’ve got a pretty good idea of the layout from those drawings when I get ready to run for my truck half an hour later. While we fruitlessly waited for the rain to abate, Jericho recounted a few amusing stories from his days as a bull rider and, surprisingly, had me laughing more than once, but I was eager to get back home.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to join me for an early bite in town?” Jericho wants to know as he opens the door for me.

He’s already asked once and I turned him down but, apparently, the man isn’t used to hearing no for an answer. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice enough guy, is handsome andcharming, even funny, but I’m more interested in the man who is currently at my house, gutting my bathroom.

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