Page 19 of Keep You Safe
In contrast to movies, where the mornings on a ranch started with a big fry-up, breakfast was more of a fend-for-yourself affair. A surprising number of folks went for an impressive collection of boxed cereals in the pantry, while others dug around in the freezer or fridge.
“Nice hoodie.” Reindeer looked up from piling an alarming amount of peanut butter on toasted frozen waffles to gesture at my pastel-pink hoodie with a silver unicorn dancing on a stripper pole. “Get your sister’s laundry by mistake?”
“Oh no!” Faking alarm, I looked down at my chest. “Thank goodness. You had me scared for a minute there, but this hoodie is all mine.” With its glittery sheen, it wasn’t my most subtle shirt, but it was a relic from an exclusive party I’d worked at my last hotel job and too fun not to pack for Colorado. Plus, on this chilly late October morning, the hoodie was warm. If Reindeer had a problem with me wearing pink, he could simply deal.
“Gonna scare the horses.” Luckily, other than that parting shot, Reindeer went back to whatever vile thing he was doing to his waffles, adding banana and honey. I took the easier route and made myself a bowl of cereal better suited for elementary schoolers.
“Be sure and eat some protein too,” Casey advised as I fetched some milk. He was one of the few who had a hot breakfast, as he tucked into a large bowl of oatmeal.
“Morning.” Grayson apparently ran on black coffee and a cranky attitude as he didn’t glance at the breakfast options when he came in. Didn’t even take his black hat off as he stood at the kitchen door and assigned tasks until I was the only one left without a job. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher, taking my sweet time until the others departed.
“What do you have for me today, boss?” I asked, putting more sass in my voice now that we were alone.
“Congrats.” Grayson, on the other hand, had the same dry tone as he’d had for everyone else. “You were so good at stall mucking that you get to do that again with an added task of cobwebbing.”
“Cobwebbing?” I grabbed my coat from the row of hooks by the door. The poor thing was way dirtier than it had been yesterday morning.
“Dusting the stalls.” Grayson clomped toward the barn, movements stiff. Why didn’t he use a cane on bad days? I knew better than to voice that question, though, so I stayed quiet and watched my breath hang in the air on the walk to the barn. Once inside, Grayson fetched a large duster on a telescoping pole.
“Here.” He handed it to me. “Can’t risk horse health with spiders and bugs, but the darn cobwebs are a never-ending and messy chore.”
“I told you. I don’t mind mess.” This was hardly the first duster I’d seen. I’d be fine.
“We’ve gotta get you some better clothes.” Frowning, he gestured at my hoodie under my open coat and my gray corduroy skinny jeans.
“What’s wrong with these?” I wasn’t going to take comments from him any more than I would from Reindeer.
“Too nice.” He pursed his lips before ducking into a tack room and returning with two blue-and-red bandannas. “You’ll want to cover your hair with your hoodie or a bandanna, and here’s another for covering your mouth.” He handed them over and then pointed at the duster. “Clean the duster frequently so you’re not just spreading chaff around.”
“Do I get another riding lesson if I do well?” I gave a pleading grin, complete with a chin tilt. I was determined to break through his icier-than-usual exterior. The air was chilly enough. I didn’t need Grayson adding to the freeze.
“Not today.” However, he didn’t thaw one bit in the face of my best smile. “Too much to get done.”
“Okay.” Nothing I could do other than agree and follow him to a different row of stalls from the day before.
“If you finish mucking and cobwebbing this side of the barn before lunch, you can sweep the aisles.” He gestured back toward the barn doors. “Lunch is your choice of leftovers or sandwiches. Clean up after yourself if you use the microwave.”
“Yes, sir.” I used a cheeky tone, but even that didn’t get a rise from Grayson.
Soon, I was alone with the muck cart and my cobwebbing task, which indeed turned out to be worse than mucking. A disgusting mix of spiderwebs, dust, bits of hay, flies, and other yuck rained down on me. I found the broom and dustpan on my own for cleaning up after my dusting efforts. I also made sure to do my best job on the mucking of each stall because I was certain Grayson would be checking. However, I finished the task before he returned, so I found a larger broom more suited to sweeping the wide aisles. I had my music for company again. I could have grabbed headphones, but the possibility of pissing off a certain foreman was too good to pass up.
As I threw out the last dustpan full of scraps of hay and dirt, Grayson finally showed up, scowl from earlier still in place.
“Spic and span, boss.” I was undeterred in the face of his bad mood. I followed him from stall to stall as he looked over my work. He added a small amount of bedding to two stalls, but otherwise had no commentary for me. “How’d I do?”
“It’ll pass.” He pursed his lips like actual praise might physically hurt. “You eat yet?”
“Not yet.” I couldn’t help the rising hope that maybe he’d brought me lunch again, but he merely shook his head.
“You’ll wanna do that before your next task because it’s a gut twister.”
“Oh?”
“Since you’re already all dirty from cobwebbing, gonna set you to drain cleaning.” He sounded just short of gleeful about assigning me the job, and as he showed me what I’d be doing with the floor drains, he kept glancing at me as if expecting me to bolt for the barn doors.
“I told you yesterday your plan to make me run away wouldn’t work.” I rolled my eyes at him and made my tone more bored. “You’re giving me the worst tasks to make me change my mind about being a hand.”
“You wanted ranch life. This is part of ranch life.” Instead of matching my teasing tone, he was at funeral-levels of seriousness. “We get dirty.”
