Page 30 of Wannabe in Wyoming
Willow pointed at him and then Jeremiah. “Both of you, shut your fool mouths, drink your coffee, and keep your hands to yourself. Fuck me, it’s like driving with a couple kids. If you can’t get along, I’ll leave you both right here on the side of the damn road and go to the farm myself. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in near unison, although both appeared to be trying to hide grins. Blessed silence filled the cab of the truck, and Willow sighed in relief.
The rest of the drive passed uneventfully, with any further conversation being quite tame if not hushed. When they arrived at Birchwood Farm, their hangovers had faded to a tolerable level and both Nathan and Jeremiah had calmed down. Willow pulled her truck to a stop near a row of other vehicles and a livestock trailer.
Grabbing her sunglasses and pulling the brim of her father’s Flyers hat farther down on her forehead, Willow hopped out. While her headache had subsided, the bright sun was killing her eyes, threatening to bring back the pounding.
She waited by the hood of her truck for Nathan and Jeremiah to join her. The latter was scoping the place out with a practiced eye.
“Looks like a good setup. Clean and in good repair, which bodes well for the state of the animals. Poorly maintained ranches usually equal sub-par quality livestock. Speaks to the character of the owners as well.” Gone was the joking goofball, and in his place was a multi-generational rancher. Even Nathan seemed to notice the change.
“Speak for yourself, cowboy. Appearances can be deceiving—sometimes it’s the hired help that keeps everything afloat. You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, as they say.”
The deep voice coming from behind them startled Willow. Turning, she saw the source was one of the biggest men she’d ever seen. Standing at least six foot four, he was built like a brick shithouse. Broad shouldered, with short-cropped dark hair and tanned skin, he was handsome enough to stop traffic. His thick arms were crossed over his equally large chest as he stared at them with frank suspicion. His tree-trunk legs were shoulder-width apart, as if he was bracing himself on the deck of a ship on rolling seas and not hard, stable earth. Dressed in jeans, a work shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a black cowboy hat, he looked every inch a native Wyomingite.
“Hello, sorry about that. I’m Willow Crawford. I’m here to see Jeffrey Faulkner about buying some alpacas and equipment?”
When the man didn’t respond right away, Willow glanced at Jeremiah and saw he was frozen in place, his mouth slightly open. His eyes were glued to the other man, and a flush colored his cheeks, making his freckles stand out in stark contrast against his otherwise pale skin.
Finally, the stranger spoke. “I’m Dale Harris, the foreman here. Sorry about the wary greeting, but I wasn’t expecting you for another hour.”
When Willow’s brow furrowed, as she wondered if she’d messed up the appointment time, the man held up a hand. “I highly doubt it was your fault—most likely I was given the wrong time. Anyway, Mr. Faulkner is up in the house on the phone. He asked me to give you a rundown of the operation, since he doesn’t know his ass from his elbow.”
Okay, obviously he didn’t think much of the nephew of his deceased boss, Carl Faulkner. Willow wondered if Dale had gotten along with the elder Faulkner at all, but then she recalled Gail Broderick saying the man had been the foreman here for years and was well-liked and respected in the alpaca farming community.
Dale continued, “I understand you might also want me to come work for you.” His eyes slid sideways to Jeremiah and quickly returned to hers, clearly dismissing the other man. Jeremiah’s back snapped straight at the slight, and she spoke as he began to step forward.
“Maybe,” she responded, not wanting to commit until she managed to get a better read on the man. The glowing recommendations carried a lot of weight with her, but she was the one who’d be dealing with him on an everyday basis. “This is Nathan Casey and Jeremiah Urban. Nathan is my . . . um, my boyfriend.” Why had she hesitated on the word? “Jeremiah is my neighbor who owns a cattle operation, the JP Ranch. I’m very new to ranching of any variety, so he’s here to advise me.”
“Fair enough. Come on then, tour starts now.”
Dale was gruff and stoic, and Willow wasn’t sure what to think of him. As she followed the bigger man, she noticed Jeremiah had his eyes glued to Dale’s ass. She whacked him on the arm and hissed, “Stop it!”
“What?” he whispered back. “Do you see that thing? How can I not stare at it?”
Oh geez.This day was definitely not going as she’d planned. The last thing she needed was her best friend to start waving the rainbow flag for the first time in his life and in front of a man who might just deck him.
Sigh.
Chapter Twenty-One
Makingsure the foreman couldn’t hear her, Willow glared at Jeremiah and quietly admonished him. “Can you not sexually harass the man I’m hoping to hire?”
“Knock it off, both of you,” Nathan interjected, keeping his voice as low as theirs. He nodded his head toward where Dale had stopped by the open door of a barn and was waiting for them, with his arms crossed again over his massive chest and a scowl on his face. “You have an audience.”
“Everything okay?” Dale asked, eyeing them shrewdly as they caught up to him.
“Yup. Totally ... fine.” Jeremiah said. “Don’t worry about us. Lead on.”
Dale cocked an eyebrow in Jeremiah’s direction, shook his head, and then led the trio into a small corral that was attached to a medium-sized barn. Loud barks greeted them as they drew closer. “Those are the herd’s guard dogs—Johnny and June. They’re siblings and a mix of Great Pyrenees and Maremma sheepdogs. They’re trained to guard the alpacas from predators, sleeping most of the day and patrolling the barns and corrals at night. They also serve double duty as midwives and nannies. If a cria is in trouble, they’ll take it and hide it. One time, we had one that wasn’t doing well, and the mother wouldn’t have anything to do with the little guy. June tucked that cria so deep into a pile of hay, it took me an hour to find it.”
“That is so cool! Do they come with the alpacas if I purchase the herd?” Willow asked with delight, seeing the two giant, white and grey dogs standing on their back legs with their front paws on the fence. They were majestic, but their size was definitely intimidating.
“Yes, they do. I raised them from pups—they’re more mine than Faulkner’s. He wants to get rid of them. If you don’t want them, I’ll keep them myself. Make sure that gate closes behind you. I’m not about to be chasing alpacas across the field today.” Jeremiah opened his mouth to respond, but Willow glared a warning at him.
“Johnny, June. Down.” Dale followed the command with a sharp hand gesture. Obeying immediately, the dogs dropped down, settling on a pile of hay in the corner of the barn.
The threesome followed the foreman through the set of gates before closing them. A sharp tang of ammonia hit Willow’s nose, and she recognized the light aroma of urine. The odor was very different from horses, but not as bad as other animals could be. In fact, it reminded her a little bit of Ethel’s litter box.
