Page 4 of Awaiting the Storm
“We’ve got about twenty-four thousand heads. Both Hereford and Black Angus.”
“And staff?”
“We’re fully staffed. Herd and ranch managers have been with us for years, as have the foreman and several of the cowboys and ranch hands. And Carla, in the office. She keeps the lights on and the taxes paid. We’ve also hired a few new faces on the horse side of things. I’ll introduce you around today.”
I nod. “And the books?”
“Are good. We have great cash flow, and I want to invest in good stock.New horses, bloodline thoroughbreds, but the market’s changed a lot. I know you’ve got the mind for it. You’ll be looking at everything—operations, auctions, maybe even ownership and syndicate options.”
I take another sip. “Sounds like a full plate.”
He grins. “Yep. Figured I’d throw you in headfirst and let you swim or sink. You hungry?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Okay. Priscilla’s got a pot roast in the oven for supper. Come on. I’ll show you around and see if we can build your appetite up.”
Priscilla is Holland’s wife and like a second mother to me.
We head out to the barns, dust kicking up beneath our boots as the air fills with the scents of hay, horses, and earth. He introduces me to the ranch staff, allowing me to match faces with the names on the employee list I received last week. After we finish our rounds, he leads me to the small training barn, where the new horses are kept. The lights hum, and I can hear the horses snorting in their stalls. A woman, wearing a cowboy hat pulled low over her brow and dusty jeans, leans over a bay filly, adjusting a leg wrap. She looks up as we enter.
“Dani,” Holland says. “This here’s Caison Galloway. Your new boss.” Then he turns to me. “Dani is our barn manager.”
“Actually, it’s equestrian facility operations manager. Nice to meet you, boss,” she says.
I extend a hand. “Just a title. You run this barn; I’m just here to make it easier.”
She shakes my hand with a firm grip and an arched brow. “We’ll see if that’s true.”
Holland chuckles and claps me on the back. “She’s prickly, but as good as they come.”
“I can work with prickly,” I say.
“Good,” Dani says. “’Cause these horses don’t care what your job title is or what your résumé says. You here to work?”
“Every day.”
She nods once. “Then we’ll get along just fine.”
We walk the barn together, Dani talking about each horse like they’re her own kids. I listen, noting how she tracks bloodlines, habits,personalities. She’s sharp, and that’s good—I don’t want a yes woman; I want someone tough and smart who’ll fight for what’s best for the horses.
After the tour, Holland steps away to take a call, and I wander toward the main pasture. There’s a single chestnut colt standing alone near the fence, watching me. Long legs, sleek lines, curious eyes. He’s a fine-looking horse.
I rest my folded arms on the top rail and he moseys his way over to me.
“You’re not scared of strangers, huh?” I murmur as he edges closer, ears twitching.
“He’s called Scorpio,” comes a voice behind me. “Scorpio’s Wrath, to be exact.”
I glance over my shoulder to see an older woman with a clipboard tucked under one arm approaching. Blazer over jeans. Practical yet professional.
“Wrath, huh?” I say. “Seems calm enough.”
“Until you get him under a saddle.”
We shake hands.
“Carla Timmons,” she says. “I handle the office, the scheduling, and most everything else around here.”
