Page 40 of Trickster King

“It’s not a bad idea, although I question where they think we’re going to find the time to take the time off. As it is, we have to plan for one missing monarch. Both of us wandering off on non-vital business at the same time might break the entire kingdom.”

“Maybe we need to implement a strict training regime for politicians and support staff, starting with making sure we take the weekends off except in case of actual emergency,” I muttered. “Health advisories on fungal infections classifying as an emergency. Congress being upset over proposed legislation is not an emergency.”

“Pitch me when you’re back,” she ordered.

“I’ll try. You’ll be fine dealing with the health advisory?”

“I’m pregnant not helpless, Pat.”

I raised a brow despite knowing she couldn’t see me. “You’re pregnant, and given a few weeks, you’re going to be spending most of your time doing what?”

“Probably sleeping on your lap, and I’ll enjoy every moment of it. And you’ll just have to cope if I snore again.”

With twins, she’d more than earned the right to snore and interrupt meetings for the next few months. “I will suffer through somehow, I’m sure.”

“Give Eddie hugs and kisses for me, try not to get yet another fungal infection, and let the agents handle the treatments. Observe and stay out of the puddles.”

“I will.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She hung up, and I chuckled over the oddities of the conversation with my wife. I eyed my agents, decided Randy would be my best bet for reminding me, and said, “The wife wants me to pitch actual time off from work once I’m back.”

“I’ll remind you,” he promised. “Anything else?”

“She’ll be sending out a health advisory for the fungus problem by the end of the day. How bad off are my horses?”

“It’s mild. I give it a week of treatments and they’ll all be sound, and as long as we hose down all the vehicles in question, there shouldn’t be any spread. We’ll all be queueing up for showers just to make sure none of us get an infection, but I doubt we’ll pick anything up. It’s probably just started to set into the fields and the horses may be stressed.”

I eyed the animals, who all seemed healthy enough. “From what?”

Randy nodded in the direction of the farmhouse. “He’s had them a long time, and he’s getting old, as is his wife. They probably noticed their owners aren’t as spry as they used to be. I can’t see anything wrong with the animals. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s a minor animal empath—not enough to bond, but strong enough to stress the animals when he can’t take care of them like he wants to. We’ll monitor them for active bonds once we get them moved, and if any of them are bonded, we’ll make sure they’re moved to be near him.”

“He’s confirmed to be selling the farm?”

“Yes.”

I nodded, as the whole place would need a lot of work. “Set this place as a getaway royal ranch, put the RPS in charge of it as a riding and training facility, and once the fields are fixed, see if we’ve got space to set up a proper quarantine pasture.”

“There are a lot of acres. Wrangling the cattle will be work. They’re a bit wild.”

“Hire some good ranchers to bring them in, do their health tests, and get DNA tests done on the beasts. Assume they’ll be pets, although if any of them have good genetics, we may adjust the plan. Mark them for consideration if there is a food shortage.”

I hated authorizing any of the pets to be slaughtered, but the buck stopped with me and Jessica. If Texans needed food, it fell to us to provide. Thus far, we hadn’t had to implement any of my plans, but they were in place if needed. “Don’t tell the wife this, but if the cows are genetically sound and can be good beef cattle, breed them. We’ll move the weaned cattle to a different farm and boost the supply.”

It could go either way with herds left to their own devices. It depended on where he’d gotten the cattle.

“Micky says he got fairly diverse cattle. The herd is four years old, and he only has a single bull from a different line. He got the stock from one of your earlier projects.”

That would save me a lot in genetic testing. “How early?”

“They meet your minimum standards for the food supply. They produce damned good milk in his opinion, but not in high quantity.”

“Talk with Micky, identify the cows with the best milk supply, and send them off to supply the palace. We’ll register half the calves for the meat market and half for continuing the dairy supply, assuming their milk quality breeds true.”

“Actionable enough items. I’ll call Senator Padrino and inquire if we can borrow his transports again. At last count, which was two weeks ago, he had over a hundred head of cows, a single bull, and the calves. He hasn’t culled any of the calves.”

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