Page 18 of The Cowboy's Christmas
“Right.” She pushed her hands into her pockets. “First, we feed the horses, then spread hay for the cows.”
Quinn nodded.
“I load the hay and drive the tractor. You man the trailer.”
Which involved cutting strings on what he judged to be 150-pound bales and then slowly pushing flakes off the rear of the trailer as she drove. “Small bales,” he commented as he studied the haystack. Easier to maneuver if one didn’t have an automatic feeder on the trailer.
“That’s what size baler came with the place.” Her mouth tightened as she spoke. Balers usually weren’t a touchy subject, but money was.
Maybe Savannah and Deke had the classic ranch problem of being land rich, cash poor. Maybe they were having troubles hanging on. They wouldn’t be the only ones.
“After that,” Savannah continued, “we check the waterers, the mineral tubs, then feed the neighbor’s livestock. They’re on a holiday cruise, and Deke and I are watching their place while they’re gone.”
“Then we gather the cattle?”
“Right after lunch. I’m hoping Deke won’t try to cook. That he’ll just keep his butt in the chair for the day.”
Quinn hadn’t known the man long, but from what he’d seen, he’d give it even odds. It all depended on how effective the pain meds were…if he chose to take them.
A flash of white in his truck caught his eye and he gestured toward the vehicle. “Mind if I let my dog out?”
“Of course not.” Savannah walked with him to the truck where Pepper’s wiry face stared back at them. “Does she get along with other dogs?” She repeated her question from the previous evening.
“Never had a problem.” He opened the door and she shot out, pushed her nose into his hand in quick greeting, then started circling the truck, looking for the sources of the many interesting odors.
“Let me guess,” Savannah said, studying Pepper as the dog explored. “Jack Russell and border collie?”
“Nice try. Wirehair terrier and McNab.” He looked past her to the yard behind the house, where Savannah’s two dogs, which looked to be purebred Aussies, jumped at the gate.
“Maybe let them out one at a time?” Quinn said.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
It was soon obvious that there was nothing to worry about. The older dog with the graying muzzle, whom she called Joey, instantly started a game of chase, making trails in the small amount of snow that had stuck the day before as they played. The younger dog was leaping up and down at the gate, so after a quick glance at Quinn, who nodded, she popped open the latch and the young dog joined in the fun. It soon became a game of two against one, so Savannah gave a whistle, and her dogs skidded to a halt then raced back to her side. “Good boy, Joey. Good boy, Harold.”
“Harold?”
She smiled a little, ruffling the longer hair at the dog’s nape. “My husband named him.”
Quinn felt himself go still. He’d assumed there was an ex-husband in the picture, but she hadn’t called him an ex. She’d called him her husband. His gaze dropped to her gloved hand, as if he would be able to see a ring, but he was certain she didn’t wear one. Not unusual for ranch people who didn’t want to lose fingers.
She waited another second or two, as if expecting the questions that Quinn had no intention of asking, then gave the dog a final pat. “My husband died two years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” Quinn said automatically.
“I never know how to bring it up,” she said simply. “In fact, I rarely do have to bring it up, except when speaking to account managers over the phone. Everyone here knows.”
“Your girls were really young when you lost him.”
“They’re my nieces,” she said. With a quick movement of her hand she released her dogs. “Play nice,” she ordered before meeting Quinn’s gaze. “The girls are staying with me while their parents are deployed. I have them for two more months.”
That was a bit of unexpected news.
“Guess you’ll have a fun Christmas.”
“I’m going to try,” Savannah said woodenly, pushing her hands a little deeper into her pockets.
Quinn didn’t know how to read her response. How could Christmas with two little girls not be fun?
