Page 12 of Tame Me Daddy

"That you're nervous, not that you can't hack it," Maya replied with a wink. She glanced at her watch. "Eat what you can. Ryder starts assigning duties at five sharp, and he hates late."

I nodded and managed a few more bites, along with several gulps of the strong coffee. As I ate, I found myself scanning the room, looking for one particular face.

"He usually eats earlier," Maya said, her voice casual but her eyes knowing. "Already been up for hours, I expect."

Heat crept up my neck. "I wasn't—"

"Save it," she laughed, not unkindly. "Every new hand does the same thing. Grant has that effect on people."

I ducked my head, embarrassed at being so transparent. "I just wanted to know what to expect today. If he'll be supervising or . . ."

"Ryder handles the day-to-day assignments. Grant oversees everything, but he's not usually breathing down our necks." Maya finished her coffee. "Though he has a way of showing up exactly when you wish he wouldn't."

Great. Just what my nerves needed.

Maya checked her watch again. "We should head out. Ten minutes till Ryder starts barking orders."

I followed her out of the mess hall, leaving my half-eaten breakfast behind. Outside, the sky was just beginning to lighten, the stars fading. The air smelled of dew and cattle and something green and alive—so different from the city air I was used to.

"We still need to get you some proper boots," she said.

"I know," I admitted.

She didn't press for details, just nodded. "Ranch store in town has decent ones that won't break the bank. Maybe we can run in after work tomorrow, if you're not too beat."

I nodded gratefully, acutely aware of the stares my footwear was attracting from the other ranch hands gathering near what appeared to be the main barn. Their glances weren't unkind, exactly, just assessing. I curled my toes inward instinctively, as if that might somehow hide the inadequacy of my shoes—and by extension, myself.

Ryder, the ranch foreman, had eyes like a hawk. He surveyed the gathered ranch hands with a practiced sweep, his weathered face revealing nothing as he barked out assignments. When he got to me, those calculating eyes paused, taking in my canvas sneakers and clean jeans with a flicker of doubt. "New girl," hesaid, my name apparently not worth remembering yet, "you're with Maya. Southern herd needs vaccinating. Nothing too complicated on day one."

Maya shot me a reassuring smile. "Got it, Ryder."

As the crowd dispersed, each person heading to their assigned tasks with purpose, Maya led me toward a collection of pens in the distance. "Vaccination duty is good for beginners," she said. "You'll get hands-on experience without having to ride or rope anything yet."

The morning air was cool but already warming, promising heat by midday. Dust kicked up under our feet as we walked, coating my sneakers with a fine layer of Texas earth. In the growing light, I could see the vast landscape of Warwick Ranch spreading around us—acres of grazing land, scattered outbuildings, and in the distance, rolling hills that reminded me this was nothing like the small dairy farm my uncle had run back East.

"You ever work with cattle before?" Maya asked.

"Small dairy cows," I admitted. "Nothing like... these."

As we approached the pens, I got my first close look at the Warwick herd. These weren't the gentle Jerseys I was used to. These were massive Herefords, muscular and broad-shouldered, with thick necks and what looked to me like perpetually annoyed expressions. A steer turned toward the fence as we approached, and my steps faltered at the sight of its sheer bulk.

"They can smell fear," Maya said casually.

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Seriously?"

Maya's laugh rang out, bright against the morning quiet. "I'm just messing with you." She shook her head. "But they do pick up on nervousness. Try to project calm, even if you're not feeling it."

I swallowed hard, watching a particularly large steer turn its head to stare at me with what I swore was malice in its eyes. "They have horns," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded.

"Just the bulls. Most are dehorned as calves," Maya explained, rummaging in a nearby supply box. She pulled out a pair of thick leather gloves and handed them to me. "Here. These will help you feel more secure when handling them."

The gloves were stiff and too large, but I pulled them on gratefully. They smelled of leather and dust and somehow made me feel slightly more prepared, even if it was just an illusion.

Maya walked me through the vaccination process, demonstrating with an efficiency born of practice. The setup was straightforward—guide the calf into a narrow chute, secure its head in a metal bracket, administer the shot quickly to the neck muscle, release the animal. Simple.

"We've got about sixty to do this morning," Maya said, gesturing to the pen where calves had been separated from their mothers. "Ready to try?"

No. "Yes," I lied, stepping forward with a determination I didn't feel.

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