I catch up with Declan on the ranch lane.
“That dude is relentless,” he says, shaking his head.“Cal needs to start meditating or something, unless he wants to stroke out before he turns forty.Work-life balance is key.”
I bust out laughing, since Declan’s lifestyle is as lopsided Cal’s, just in the opposite direction.If it doesn’t have an engine, wings, rotors, or the ability to orbit Earth, Declan isn’t interested in working on it.
His biggest contribution to ranch operations is trying—and failing—to get under Summer’s skin.I have to give him props for his dedication.
“What are you up to?”I ask him.
“Gonna take a nap.”
“Of course you are.”
I pat him on the back, and we part ways.I wander toward the barn, thinking I should check up on Meadow Eclipse, the six-year-old hunter type Quarter Horse who’s in foal by our racing stallion, Wind Dancer’s Dream.
In addition to busting my hump on StellaR Tech business and being the best dad possible to Jasmine, I’ve always dreamed of diversifying Yosemite Ranch operations by adding a top-shelf breeding program.Of all the MacLaine boys, I’m the one who spent most of his childhood with our ranch horses—grooming, training, riding, competing, and showing.
I inherited my love of horses from Mom.Before she was Stella MacLaine, my mom was Stella Roberts, champion barrel racer.She taught all of us to ride and drive cattle, but I was the one that couldn’t seem to learn enough.
I always wanted more—more hands-on experience with training, the most difficult horses to turn around, and higher stakes in racing or competitions.There was even a time when I thought about becoming an equine veterinarian.
But then I discovered computers and set my sights on the Navy, determined to follow in Cal’s footsteps.It wasn’t until I returned to Yosemite two years ago that I’d found a way to mesh both sides of my personality: I make serious money with the cyber surveillance tech Declan and I invented, and I spend it on whatever the fuck I want, including horses.
And the ridiculous luxury of our new horse barn.
I step inside, my feet silent on the custom rubberized flooring.Everything about the barn is customized, from its bell-tower cupola to the stalls made of Brazilian hardwood and powder-coated steel.I made sure this facility was built for what I have planned for the future, not just for what we’re doing today.
I walk down the aisle and smile at what I see.As I suspected—and hoped—Meadow has been brought in from the heat of the midday pasture to the climate-controlled comfort of her stall.I open the stall door and step inside with her.
She nuzzles me and lowers her head for some attention.I stroke her shiny dark flank, feeling the life growing inside her.She’s a sweet-natured mare who can get a bit spooked by barn activity, but she has the smoothest forward motion I’ve ever seen, and she’s a world champion hunt seat Quarter Horse.
I know that I paid a shit ton of money for her, but I’m glad I did.
“Hey, boss.”
I turn to see Summer swing open the Dutch door, climb up, and prop her elbows on the steel ledge.She’s grinning.“To what do I owe this honor?”
“Just checking on my main squeeze.”
“She’s the sweetest thing ever,” Summer says.“A pleasure to be around.Just like me.”
“Ha!How’s she doing on the new concentrate?”
“She likes it, and she goes crazy for the Timothy hay from the east fields.That shit’s like horse crack.She’s up to about seventeen pounds a day.”
I stroke the white blaze on Meadow’s face and gently run my hands down her hind legs.Then I push the stall door open and step out into the aisle.Summer walks with me.
“Hey, Summer.Just to double-check, are you—?”
“Yes.”She doesn’t even let me ask the question.“I always feed hay before the concentrate because it’s easier for her to digest.I’ve got it on lock.And if the day comes when I don’t have it on lock, that’s the day you can fire my bony ass.Hey, speaking of bony asses, how’s our girl Emma doing?You need to hook her up with some of Phyllis’s coffee cake, ASAP ‘cause she needs some carbohydrates before she tackles your place.”
All I can do is shake my head.Summer has never needed another person to enjoy a lively conversation.
“Hey, she’s great,” Summer continues.“But I really have to wonder what her deal is, because she looks like she’s been rode hard and put away wet.”
“She’s doing good.Jasmine seems to like her.”
“And how about you?You like her, too?”
