As she walked down the wide, slanted concrete, some equine heads on either side poked out from their stalls. Some blew a greeting, but she continued on where one was watching her, waiting for her.
“Hey there. There’s my boy.” She rubbed the cheeks of the Appaloosa she called Leo due to the leopard spots over his white hide.
He butted his head against her shoulder, looking at her with his sweet, fascinating blue eyes.
A man could miss his girl, she thought. A horse could miss his girl, too.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t been around much, I haven’t been paying attention. The last couple weeks…”
She shook her head, went inside the stall, took up a brush to run it over his flanks.
“No excuses. Not between us. You know what? Tomorrow we’ll ride to work. You can visit the resort horses for the day, and we’ll have a good, strong morning ride. And a good, strong ride home again tomorrow night. I’ve missed you, too.”
She pulled a carrot out of the pocket Leo was nibbling at. “You always know. Just don’t tell anybody.”
While he crunched, she laid her head on his neck. “I’ll figure it out, right? I’ve got it half figured already. I’d still like to boot Chase in the ass, but I’ve got it half figured.”
She gave Leo a couple of quick rubs. “I’ll see you in the morning. Bright and early, too.”
Since the idea of a good, strong ride pleased her, she wandered out of the stables, scratching a few more heads on the way, before aiming her steps toward the shack.
Small, rustic with its cedar shakes and little front porch, it stood a muscular stone’s throw from the main house, and an enthusiastic spit from the bunkhouse.
Originally it had been built with its peaked roof and square windows for the dude ranch. A few other cabins that once were scattered through the trees had been scrapped for supplies in the building of the resort. But they’d kept the shack, for the occasional overnight guest, for storage, as a very unofficial playhouse.
And now for Callen Skinner.
A horseshoe knocker graced the barn-style front door, but Bodine used her knuckles to knock while she watched the smoke pump out of the chimney on the bunkhouse side of the shack.
Callen pulled the door open, stood in the backwash of light. He said, “Howdy, neighbor.”
“Howdy back. Got a minute?”
“Got plenty of them. Did you eat yet?”
“Yeah, I just … Oh.” When she stepped in, she saw the plate on the table. “You’re eating. We can do this later.”
“Nothing wrong with now.” To prove it, he shut the door behind her. “Want a beer?”
“No, I’m good.”
He crossed back to the table, picked up a remote, and switched off the old black-and-white movie on the TV.
It was a small, efficient space, holding the kitchen and living areas, which had been spruced up nice enough by her mother. The bedroom rayed off the kitchen with a bathroom so tiny she wondered how he managed to shower without banging his elbows and knees.
“You going to sit?”
“I really hate to interrupt your dinner.”
“You won’t if you sit and talk while I eat it. Take off your coat. The stove keeps it warm enough.”
The little potbelly in the corner did its job, Bodine thought, tossing her coat on the back of the living room chair.
She sat across from him at the square two-seater table. “You cook?”
He cut a bite from a fried-up rib eye. “Enough to get by. I could’ve had dinner in the bunkhouse, but I had some things I wanted to get done.”
A folder sat beside him, closed now.
“Just in the neighborhood?” he asked her.
“As it happens. I like this neighborhood.”
“Me, too.”
“You didn’t get in touch to tell me LaFoy was no damn good, so I hired him.”
“You said to get in touch if he was no damn good, and he didn’t strike me that way. He’s good with the horses, knows his way around, appears to listen when you talk to him, and got on fine with everybody else when we toured around. We had a couple come by just to look at the horses with their preschooler. He was polite and personable. I figured that did the trick, though I wouldn’t say he’s sharp as an average tack.”
“Well, I had the same take, so that’s good enough.” She sat back, sighed. “Here’s the thing, Skinner. It seems Abe’s not coming back until spring. He’s worried about Edda, wants to keep her from doing much for a while, so he’s taking her to spend time with family here and there, to keep her occupied.”
Listening, Callen sawed off more steak. “Sounds like a good idea, considering.”
“We talked about you going back and forth, filling in, filling in more come January, but that’s not going to work now.”
“You need to plug that hole all the way.”
“I do. Dad and Chase both say if you want to switch over to the resort for the winter, that’s fine with them. If you want, you and I can talk about salary, as you’d move off the ranch books officially and onto the resort’s until Abe comes back. If you don’t want that, as you came here to work the ranch’s horses, that’s fine, too. If that’s the case, I’d just like you to keep filling in until I can hire somebody to plug that hole.”
He scooped up some mashed potatoes, washed them down with beer. Said, “Hmm.”
“I’ve been doing the scheduling for that area and for housekeeping since Edda got sick. I can pull from the staff I have to fill the housekeeping position, but I can’t pull from the BAC and Equestrian Center for a horse manager. Even if Maddie wasn’t pregnant, she’s not a manager. Not yet anyway. And I don’t think she much wants to be. So I’d have to go outside for it. I can do that if you don’t want to take it on.”
He ate some, thought some. “Can you lay out the details? Salary, yeah, but duties, responsibilities, what kind of autonomy’s involved if it’s official? Temporary, but official.”
“Absolutely.” It set her mind at ease he’d ask rather than jump to either yes or no. “If you give me your e-mail address, I can send it all to you. In writing.”
“You can have my e-mail.” He rattled it off. “But if you don’t have every detail inside that head of yours I’ll eat my hat. And I like wearing it.”
She considered a moment. “Beer in there?” She wagged a thumb at the refrigerator, then waved him down before he could stand to get it for her.
She pulled out a Moosehead, popped the top in the open mouth of the bull bottle opener on the wall. And took a long sip.
“I like beer.” She took another pull. “I like wine fine, but, boy, there’s nothing like a cold beer.”
She sat, and ran through the job description, the duties, the responsibilities, the expectations, who reported to whom, the liabilities, the resort policies.
It was a long list. She paused, drank more beer.
“Are you sure you don’t want this in an e-mail?”
“I’ve got it. Most of it makes sense.”
She intended to send the e-mail anyway.
When she named the salary, he ate more steak, mulled it over.
“Seems fair enough.”
“Good. Do you want to take some time to think about it?”
“Just want to clear it with Sam and Chase.”