Star Bright by Catherine Anderson

or some kind of paraphernalia I need to treat an animal. On a ranch, you never know from one minute to the next what might happen. About a month ago, Montana, one of my prize studs, got a hornet up his nose and went berserk. The walls of those stalls are reinforced nine ways to hell, but he managed to put a rear hoof through the wall anyway, and got his leg stuck up to the hock. Talk about a mess; that was it. I damned near lost a fine animal in that go-’round. By the time I got his leg free, he’d cut himself and was bleedin’ bad. My vet—he’s also my brother-in-law—was out in the field and took forty-five minutes to get here. Trust me when I say everybody within a mile was at a dead run, doin’ whatever needed doin’ to save my horse.” He forked some more food into his mouth and made short work of swallowing it. “Like I said when I hired you, the horses come first. The paperwork won’t up and die on us if you don’t tend to it for a day. An injured stud or a foal with pneumonia won’t be so patient.”
    Rainie had never considered all the mishaps that could befall horses. Now it was easier for her to understand why this man’s office was in such turmoil.
    “It sounds like a demanding line of work. Were you and your siblings born into the business?”
    “We teethed on saddle leather.” He poked a big piece of broccoli in his mouth. “Not really, of course. It’s only a sayin’. But if any kids ever came close to teethin’ on leather, we did. Right after Clint was born, our mom insisted that Dad put new flooring and walls in one of the stalls to create a playpen.”
    “A what ?” Rainie had forgotten all about her earlier tension. “She put her baby in a horse stall?”
    “By the time Dad got done with it, it was a pretty fancy horse stall. I know it sounds strange, but it wasn’t really. They converted a birthin’ stall, and they’re quite large. Mom liked to work in the stable with my father, and back then, they couldn’t afford a babysitter, so a confinin’ area for us kids was the only solution. Less than two years after Clint was born, Quincy came along. I came a year later, Zachary two years after me. Life can’t end for a woman just because she has four little boys. It was kind of cool, actually. We had a big space to play in, and she kept tons of toys in there to keep us entertained. When one of us cried, no tellin’ who’d come, sometimes my mom, sometimes Dad, and sometimes one of the hired hands. Hooter—he’s Clint’s foreman now—used to take his breaks in there with us. He got me hooked on chocolate Hostess Cup Cakes—those ones with the cream centers? I still love ’em to this day. And Jerome—he’s Samantha’s foreman now—got me hooked on his Blue Buzzard Ranch Chili. Do you think he’ll give me the recipe, though? Hell, no. He’s gonna take that recipe with him to the grave.”
    Rainie was quickly coming to realize that Parker loved to talk. He also had a tendency to flit from one subject to another. But she was so fascinated by his stories that she didn’t mind. Her initial uneasiness began to dissipate. If he intended to grill her about her past, he was taking his own sweet time in getting around to it.
    “You gonna eat?” he suddenly asked. “The food will get cold.”
    “Oh.” Rainie dished herself up a small portion of the chicken fried rice and a few snow peas. “Mmm,” she murmured appreciatively after taking a bite. “So, Hooter and Jerome have been with your family for a long time?”
    “Long before Clint was a twinkle in my father’s eye. In fact, all of my dad’s original crew is still with us, some still workin’ at his place, some workin’ for us kids. When each of us branched out on our own, we inherited one of his most trusted hired hands as a foreman. He wanted us to stand on our own two feet, but he didn’t want us to be without an adviser. I got Toby, one of the best horsemen you’ll ever encounter. He’s the fellow you saw