Page 6 of His Country
Mrs. Taylor had never done anything to him, but there was a little too much going on behind her smiley eyes for a dumb hick like Aiden to understand. On a good day, he didn’t know his ass from his elbow. And he so rarely had good days.
Yawning, he dropped the last of the alfalfa to a heavily pregnant goat that ignored him. He wondered if she gave birthor if her demonic hellspawn clawed their way out of her like some kind of murderous birth ritual.
Isaac stuck his head around the door. “Hey, can you call Sugar?”
“Why?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the goats.
“Carol doesn’t want her jumping on the guests.”
He made a face. “Tell them to get off a fucking farm then.”
Isaac made a face like he was absolutely not going to say that. “Please?”
“She lives here.”
“Man, I’m just doing what I’m told. Don’t bite the messenger.”
Rolling his eyes, Aiden climbed out of the goat pen and followed Isaac out of the smaller barn. It was chillier out in the open and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. He could feel some old coins, his knife, , a couple of peppermints, and loose hay tickling his fingers as he pressed his lips together and whistled for his dog.
He could hear her soft whine of excitement before he saw her, a blur of dark fur and wagging tail. She skidded to a halt in front of him. Aiden scratched at the base of one pointed ear, smiling as her eyes went hazy.
“I guess these people are famous,” Isaac mentioned, gesturing toward the back of the office. It was above them, up the little hill the farm was bult into, and he could see shapes moving past the windows.
“Fantastic.” He focused on petting Sugar. He didn’t want to tie her up or lock her in a stall for the day.
“Yeah, like super rich. I guess Frank grew up with their folks? Or something like that.”
Aiden must have looked vaguely interested because Isaac continued. “They want to hold their wedding here. Even thoughthey could invite like…a million people they only want family and friends. Something intimate.”
None of that mattered, Aiden wouldn’t be there anyway. Frank told him to make himself scarce and he would. Especially if these assholes didn’t like Sugar.
“I’m going to check that colt,” he informed Isaac, turning on his heel to follow the drive down to the second horse barn.
They had a small breeding program on the farm. It might be Aiden’s favorite part of his job. Picking the lines, training the young horses, choosing which got sent off and which they kept. Frank said he had an eye for it. It came from his mom. She used to show horses when he was a kid. Aiden could remember her spending hours in the barn, braiding their manes and bathing them until their white marks gleamed. It was the only memory he had of his mother smiling.
She had to sell them when the farm started struggling.
Their most recent troublemaker was a big bay yearling. Normally they all lived in a big herd in the back country. A massive paddock with hills, valleys, and gravel to help strengthen their growing legs and hooves but the idiot managed to slice his leg open on God knows what. Aiden had to corral him so he could treat it. The wound was healing nicely but kept threatening to turn to proud flesh on him. He’d been wrapping and treating it twice a day. The colt hated it. Threw himself up against the round pen panels in a desperate bid to get back to his herd.
Aiden climbed the fence, dropping into the corral with a huff. The colt snorted, twitching its short tail his direction.
“You gonna be like that?” he called as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a peppermint. Crinkling the clear plastic wrapping, the colt’s head popped back up. “That’s what I thought. C’mere, sweet tooth.”
The colt held out for a couple more seconds before crowding him, snuffling into his hand faster than he could open the sugary treat. Shoulder bumping into Aiden, he crunched through the mint. Before he’d even swallowed, he was looking for more, frisking Aiden with his big lips.
“Careful or your name is going to end up Fatty.”
Ignoring him, the horse continued searching. Sugar whined and paced from outside the pen, ready to herd the young thing at the first movement. They both ignored the dog.
Aiden ran his hands along the yearling’s scrubby winter coat. Living out, his dark burnished bay coat had burnt into an ugly orange. But all the time spent in the Montana hills had made the colt strong. Legs straight, hooves solid, and shoulders defined. He was going to be a nice one. Provided he didn’t keep slicing himself open.
Growing bored, the yearling moved back to his hay. Tossing it aside as he looked for something better under the pile.
Always looking for something better.
Aiden wanted to caution the young thing. Tell it to be more concerned with what’s under his nose than what’s in the future.
Sugar barked at the crunching of feet on gravel and the indistinct murmurs of conversation. He groaned and wondered if he could get away with hiding behind the colt.