Cash casually said, “By the way, your filly’s real name is Cinnamon.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Daybreak this time of year was around five thirty a.m.
Cash didn’t need an alarm to wake up, but he usually set it anyway. As he lay in bed, his first thought this morning was the memory of feeding the chickens with Tracy Dalton. His eyes still closed, he chuckled. There was no rule on the ranch about having to feed the chickens if you were late to lunch. He suspected Tracy knew that, but she’d been a good sport and played along.
When he’d started shooing dozens of white, black, and red hens across the fenced pen containing grassy areas and natural shade, toward the large A-framed chicken coop with glass windows, a regular door, and a pop door, Tracy had shooed them too. He’d chuckled as the chickens clucked at Tracy who occasionally shrieked and jumped out of their way.
“We call all the white hens Lily, the red hens Goldie, and the black hens Iris,” Cash had said as he plucked up a big black chicken before she could dip underneath the ramp leading to the door for the coop. Placing her into the coop he said, “Once we get them all past this pop door we close it to keep ’em safe from predators for the night.”
“Why’s it called a pop door?” Tracy had asked.
“Because the chickens pop in and out of the coop,” he’d said.
Tracy’s turquoise eyes had sliced a sideways glance at him evidently not knowing if he was serious about the pop door or pulling her leg. He’d assured her that he was completely serious. All but a couple of the chickens were safely in their coop when Tracy had spied a stray. She’d looked cute and sexy in her Elsa hat and snug jeans, as she bent over at the waist and tried to coax a little red chicken out from under a bush.
“This chicken doesn’t want to be caught,” Tracy had said, hands on her slim hips.
“Can’t give up on her.”
“Goldie!” Tracy huffed. “Come here, chick, chick, chick.”
“Thatta girl.”
Cash had taken up a position on the other side of the bush, and blocking the chicken’s escape route, chased her toward Tracy. With all of Goldie’s dramatic clucking and wing-flapping and Tracy’s squealing and prancing, it was highly entertaining. He’d laughed and then cheered when Tracy had finally succeeded in catching the chicken.
Eyes still shut and reliving it all again, Cash grinned now as he had then. No sooner had Tracy caught Goldie than the little hen had escaped her arms and flown across the ground toward Cash. He’d caught Goldie and demonstrated holding the chicken like a puppy. Surprising him, Tracy had held out her arms. He had handed her the hen and on her second try, Tracy had made it to the coop with her. Closing the pop door, he had taken Tracy inside the coop. There, he had opened a plastic tub of cracked corn, distributed it, and scooped mealworms out of a canister. He gave Tracy a handful and her expression of disbelief was priceless when he’d told her she was holding mealworms. To her credit, she didn’t drop them and run.
“Why aren’t the chickens cock-a-doodle-do-ing?” Tracy had asked as she sprinkled the mealworms for them.
“Because they’re hens, not roosters. Only roosters crow.”
“I know for absolute certainty hens cock-a-doodle-do. I’ve heard them.”
“I know for absolute certainty what you heard were roosters.”
With an outright laugh now, Cash rolled out of bed, wondering if Tracy was awake. On Tuesdays, the wranglers usually took the guests out for a ride, let them have lunch along a trail, and then rode back to the ranch. In the afternoon, guests could rest, walk the trails, or ride again if they wished to do so before supper. This was all in preparation of riding to the overnight campground a few miles away.
After showering, Cash shrugged into a dark-brown shirt with a Triple C Ranch-East logo and rolled the sleeves up his forearms. He wore jeans every day on the ranch, usually with a brown leather belt, one of his Triple C silver buckles, and brown cowboy boots.
Remembering how Tracy had held that chicken like a puppy, Cash thought once again about getting a dog. He’d been meaning to pursue finding a good-sized breed, but ranch duties kept getting in his way. His grandfather, known as Coop, had an Australian cattle dog, named Crockett, loved by all. Cash smiled, his grandfather was loved by all too.
He made his way downstairs, through the house, and off the screened porch to the backyard of the ranch. Kellie and Sam were already in the café. Jeff, Ed, Beau, and Larry were following their noses to breakfast. Cash joined them and over coffee, bacon, biscuits and gravy, they talked about the day’s schedule, weather, guests, and horses.
“Thanks for breakfast, Kellie,” Cash said, after setting his empty plate on the designated table near the oversized dishwasher and farm sink.
“Anytime,” Kellie said jokingly as she served breakfast five, sometimes seven days a week. “Since you guys are taking guests out on the trails, I will have their sack lunches ready soon.” She nodded to the table where the food would be waiting. “It’s Tuesday, so I’ll be making soft and hardtacos for dinner this evening to serve along with refried beans, rice, chips, and salsa. And maybe in addition to sweet tea, I’ll whip up a pitcher or two of margaritas.”
“Sounds good to me,” Cash replied.
“Thanks,” Sam said to his wife and kissed her before falling into step with Cash.
It was almost seven a.m. as Cash and Sam headed to the stables. They nodded at ladies emerging onto cabin porches. The guests would soon head to the café as they’d been advised breakfast was served from seven a.m. to eight a.m. Shortly thereafter, Kellie would ring the chuck wagon bell for folks to pick up their bag lunches.
The wranglers would be in the stables and guests were welcome to accompany the men on rounds as they checked on every horse, gave medicines to those requiring it, or distributed additional feed for horses needing extra calories. Jacob was the first guest to make it to the stables with his camera in hand. But it wasn’t long before the ladies began filing away from breakfast and making their way to the stables. Cash had saddled Captain and glanced at his watch. Time to ride. And here she came. It was all Cash could do not to wolf whistle.
“About time you got here,” he teased the stunning redhead as she neared him.
