Page 10 of My Cowboy Freedom
“Sure,” I gave Ogre a last nose rub and followed Tad out.
“We run the horse operation from here,” Tad explained. “We’ve got the family mounts and the ones we use for working the cattle.”
“Mr. Chandler told me he’s breeding bulls?”
“Yup. That’s the business were in, son. The Rocking C’s Brangus bulls and their offspring are highly prized for feed efficiency, weight, and muscle composition. You won’t find more productive bulls anywhere.”
“Good to know.”
“Yup. We have science on our side. And selective breeding. Just think, the day might come when you’ll be able to say you catch bull semen for a living.”
“Be still my heart.” I winced because I was supposed to. But he’d have been the one making a face if he knew that was not even close to some of the gross and scary things I’ve done to stay alive.
Tad laughed. “Not worried about that?”
“There are worse things.”
I let him open the gate and we stepped into the corral. The Rocking C had some very fine horses. The one that made a beeline for me was a black colt whose curiosity made him want to come closer but whose instinct for self-preservation made him take off as soon as I even looked at him.
“And who might you be?” I asked, following him with a halter to lead him to the barn if he’d let me.
“That’s Smokey Joe,” Tad called. “And this here’s Joe’s Girl. His dam.”
“Beautiful. You must be so proud to work with them.”
“It’s pretty cool all right.” While Tad caught Joe’s Girl, I managed to entice the colt. “Which stall is his?”
“Follow me.” Tad took off toward the barn. Joe followed his momma like a champ.
Once inside the barn, Tad tapped on the door of Joe’s stall and I led him inside. “Here you go, boy. Home, sweet home.”
From behind me, I heard Tad grunt a greeting.
A new man appeared in the center aisle, a middle-aged man, weathered exactly how a cowboy should be. He reminded me so much of my dad—not in looks, exactly but just how he carried himself. His nod gave me gooseflesh.
“You the new guy?”
I held out my hand. “Sky Brody.”
“Julio.” We shook. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
“Smokey Joe there belongs to Chandler’s grandson,” he said, indicating the colt. “Boy just loves that animal.”
I picked up my grooming brush. “Seems like a good little guy.”
“The colt or the kid?”
“I haven’t met the grandson. I was talking about the colt.” Stroke after soothing stroke, I brushed Smoky Joe down to soothe and clean him.
“The kid’s cool. You’ll get to meet him soon, I hope. “
“I hope so too.”
“Julio,” Tad called. “Make yourself useful and go get the rest of the horses. Don’t nobody pay you for talking.”
“All right.” He shot Tad the finger. “Keep your hair on.”
