Page 8 of Unbar the Barred
Frey came out of his cabin, his hair a little messier than it had been. “I never thought my first job was gonna be helping a stuck pig.” He grinned cheekily as he came down the steps. “Wait till I tell Emmy I got to recuse a pig.”
“Emmy?” Cassidy assumed Frey must be talking about his mate.
“My daughter. She’s at home with Derick and Lane.” His smile dipped a little before it brightened. “They’re having a blast with her from the number of pictures I’m getting. Do you wanna see?”
“Say no.” Wilder gripped Cassidy’s arm. “Don’t let him drag you into that trap of cuteness. It’ll make your whole day disappear.”
“As Ethan would have my hide for that, what say we get started and then you can show me when we take a break?”
“Wise move,” Hollis muttered, giving Frey a look that suggested he behave, which totally by-passed the dude when he pulled out his phone and flashed a picture of a cute baby at him.
“She’s a cutie for sure,”—he started walking—“and will be a real heartbreaker when she gets bigger.”
Frey showed him several more pictures, getting groans from the others, though they all wore the same sappy grin as Frey when he flashed the phone at them, before they had put Bubba back in the pigpen and got greeted by the girls.
“Has that chicken got a tutu on?” Isley peered over the fence, his eyes so wide Cassidy struggled to keep from laughing at the obvious shock. He went to open the gate, and the chickens rushed towards him.
“That one’s got a sweater on,” Lennon whispered. “Oh, and that one.”
“Where would you buy something like that?” Bowie questioned, leaning over the fence to get a closer look.
Cassidy grinned, used to the questions, though these were politer than some. “I knit the sweaters for them and make the tutu’s. My girls like to look pretty.” He shrugged causally, heading through the gate.
The noise they made as they gathered around him, like a pack of wild hens, halted those following him. “Now come on girls, you know that ain’t how we greet visitors.”
The squawking and wing flapping came down a notch.
Lulu made a beeline for Bowie, who hovered in the gateway. Cassidy didn’t get to say a word as Bowie got down on his knees and offered her his finger. “She’s so tiny.”
“She’s a Seramas frizzle. Frizzle means she got all those pretty wild colored curly feathers.”
Lulu pecked and fluffed out her feathers because she knew Cassidy was talking about her. “I breed various kinds. There’s a market for chicken feathers.”
When Cassidy first started working on the ranch, there weren’t many chickens, and they’d roamed free. As his animal side was a chicken, and he had an affinity for them, he had seen an opportunity to start a breeding program of different breeds that were popular for eggs, feathers, and meat.
“Feathers?” Bowie asked, as three more of the ladies went over to show interest in him.
“Feathers. They have a lot of keratin, a protein which, when harvested from the feathers, can help balance plastic structures and make the plastic stronger. It’s big business, if only on a small scale for Darling Ranch.” He gave a sheepish smile. “I really just love having lots of little chicks of my own.”
“What type is the one in purple?” Frey asked, finally braving stepping through the gate, side stepping Bowie and the chicks.
Cassidy didn’t need to look because only one of his girls wore purple. “Lynda is a La Fleche.”
“She looks… interesting,” Wilder muttered, lifting his feet, watching the chicks as they darted around him.
“Ya mean the satanic-looking feather display?” Cassidy whispered. “It’s why she prefers to wear her sweaters.”
Lennon muffled a giggle behind his hand. Cassidy got it, she was a wild-looking chick.
Cassidy continued to talk about his girls, grabbing pails and handing them out. “We need to collect eggs first, then clean out the henhouses before feeding.”
He glanced at the group, seeing enthusiastic smiles. He was sure that would change when they got to the chicken poop, but it was a good start because no one had run off like the chap from the month before. The guy from New York had made rude comments about his girls, then called Cassidy crazy. His chicks had gotten affronted and sent him packing in a barrage of peeking and wing flapping. “That okay?”
“We are in your hands,” Hollis answered, apparently for everyone.
“Great, then let’s get crackin’.”
Chapter Five
