Page 15 of Unyielding
“Insulting is more like it,” Jake said. He waved his empty hand. “The flirting is one thing. Some folks enjoy the attention, some don’t. I’m in the ‘don’t’ group, myself, but whatever. I’m not going to snap at a lady for trying to get my attention. My mama raised me better than that. But I’m damn sick of folks pushing all this technology my way. I’m old school. I believe the value of our stock comes from how we breed and raise our horses.When technology overtakes common sense, then you’re doing something wrong.” He tossed his coffee cup into the nearby bin, pushed his hat back on his head, and rubbed his forehead before reseating his hat.
“Sorry about that,” he said, giving me a sheepish smile. “You don’t need to hear my rants. I’m sure you’ve got your own opinions on things.”
“That’s okay,” I reassured him. “We have similar feelings about horse breeding, even if those opinions aren’t in line with some of the newer breeders and their scaled-up operations.” I debated asking his advice. The Thornes, along with the Caffertys, were part of the original founders of Poplar Springs. His family had been breeding horses longer than mine, and they appeared to be doing well. I decided to take a chance.
“Hey, Jake? Do you have time to offer some advice?”
Jake tapped the tailgate next to him and I hopped up. “Josh wants me to modernize my breeding program. He claims I’m stuck in the past and what worked for my gran and mom isn’t good enough anymore. I get it. I do. There are things I could be doing to streamline processes and free up my time for the most important things, but if I change too much, I feel like I’d be losing part of what made Lost Valley Ranch so popular. History and the past are important.”
He was nodding along as I talked. Jake knew better than most about the importance of history and heritage. The Thornes had been hit with their own set of tragedies when Jake’s oldest brother and father were killed in a car accident. Luke had been married to Amy Thorne, and when he died, he left behind a widow and a young son. Jake had lost both of his mentors in one fiery crash and just like Josh, had been forced to take over thefamily business and figure out for himself how to keep the family traditions going.
“I’m the first to say that legacy is important. That’s pretty much how I’ve been running things since I assumed the position.” I felt a surge of relief. Jake understood the value of legacy as much as I did. “However, I will be the first to admit that I could stand to modernize a few things too. Frankly, I really wouldn’t mind getting rid of all that paperwork that seems to stack up. As my nephew, Henry, keeps reminding me, all of that paper came from trees only to end up in the landfill or incinerator.”
“Yeah, when you put it that way, I can understand that,” I admitted. “So, can I ask your opinion on AI?”
Jake frowned and adjusted his hat. “Artificial intelligence?”
“I, uh…” Shit. He couldn’t be serious, could he? But then Jake snorted and elbowed my side and I blew out a breath.
“Can’t say I’m fond of artificial insemination for livestock. That’s where I’m old school. I feel like the best way is using live cover. Put two animals of the opposite sex out in a pasture and let them figure it out.” I was nodding my head so hard, my neck was starting to hurt. “But I also know that Walter Briggs lost two of his cows when Big Willy decided it was mating season. That bull was way too aggressive with the girls and Doc Wilcox wasn’t able to save them. So, in situations like that, where the health of the females is at risk, then yeah, AI can be a good thing.”
I cringed and thought about all the nightmares I’d had after Diesel jumped the fence and mounted Belle. I still wasn’t happy that she’d gotten pregnant, but things actually could have gone a lot worse.
“You’re all loaded, Ms. Cafferty,” the young man said as he slammed my tailgate closed.
I slid off where I was sitting and stood up. I held out my hand, and Jake shook it. “Thanks for the chat,” I said. “You gave me something to think about.”
“Anytime you need something, you’ve got my number.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
Driving away, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Jake Thorne said about legacy. I didn’t know if his desire to maintain things as they were had to do with his own family tragedy or if he was simply as stubborn as I was. I suspected a bit of both. But he had a fair point when he said that the safety of the horses needed to be kept in consideration when breeding. As much as I wanted to say that the natural way was the best way one hundred percent of the time, if a temperamental stallion got out of hand while on the back of a mare, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it until they were separated.
“Well, I guess I’m agreeing to give AI a try,” I said out loud and then laughed thinking about Jake’s joke. I wanted to tell Declan what he’d said, knowing he would get a kick out of it. There were, I realized, a lot of things I wanted to share with Declan. But that wouldn’t be appropriate. We weren’t dating. He was a vet and we were his clients, I reminded myself.
Nothing more.
NINE
DECLAN
“And that’s when your father told the man that one of his paintings had once hung in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, so ofcoursehe could charge that much!”
My mother, Linda, chortled into the phone at the appropriate moment, just like she always did when she told the story.
“And then did he tell the guy what actually happened?” I asked in a patient voice, playing my role in the retelling of the story I’d heard dozens of times before. My father had taken an art class at the Met before I was born, and when he’d stopped to use the bathroom, he’d hung a small watercolor of his on the back of the door, which meant the story had the thinnest thread of truth.
“You know your father.” She laughed. “What do you think?”
As much as I enjoyed hearing my mom sounding happy, the fact that she was retelling the story was setting off alarm bells. As much as she loved telling the story, it usually had some connection to the conversation at hand when she brought it up. But this time, we’d been talking about the hernia surgery her cousin in Florida was getting when she started in on the oldstory. I leaned down and scratched Ford while eyeing a half-finished report on my computer screen. Even though I still had a few hours of work before the official end of my day, I wasn’t about to rush to get off the phone until I had a sense of my mom’s cognitive state at that moment.
“How are you doing, Mom?” I asked gently. “You feeling okay?”
“Never better, now that you’re home,” she chirped. “Salt Lake City was too far away and you were always so busy. I’m happy you’re taking over Ruth’s practice. We’ll get to see you all the time now! Maybe you’ll start coming around for family dinners.”
“Hold on, hold on.” I sighed, rubbing my forehead. “It’s not a done deal yet. I won’t know if she’s selling it to me for a few months.”
The line went silent for a moment.
