Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He sat staring out of the tall bay window at the picturesque view, contemplating his best strategic approach to Bull’s vandalism problem. It was the primary source of the man’s stress, and if Fox could eliminate that, then he could get to work on solving a problem that they both had—loneliness.
He’d concocted a pretty decent plan, as it was his specialty. But he was an even more efficient executor. It appeared to be easy for him to think out here, easier to breathe. There was no bustling traffic noise, and it wasn’t so congested with people that as soon as he stepped out of the front door, he immediately felt suffocated. Here it was just peace and nature. And Bull. Feeling better already, Fox sent a picture of his new view to his captain.
Fox was riveted as he watched some little yellow birds he’d never seen before in the city grab seeds from a bird feeder station, when his senses told him he was no longer alone. Fox tilted his head slightly, then said to the unwanted man at his back, “Do that again… and you’ll find out the hard way that I don’t like to be snuck up on.” Fox turned and glared at Dale, Bull’s foreman. “I do the fuckin’ sneaking.”
Dale slowly walked around the table, the heels of his cowboy boots hitting the hardwood floor with each determined step. If he was trying to be intimidating, Fox was close to laughing in his face.
“I saw Bull storming off towards the training pens. It’s his favorite thing to do in the morning, showing off for the kids and all… but right now he looks pissed…” Dale squinted, causing deep wrinkles to appear in the corners. “And I have a feeling you had something to do with that… land surveyor.”
Dale was a big man, thick and stocky like Bull—like much of the ranch help Fox saw moving around doing various jobs—but he wasn’t near as fine or as tall. Instead, Dale’s weather-beaten face was rugged in a gritty, sexy western kind of way. Beneath his dusty gray cowboy hat, his eyes weren’t as sweet and brown as Bull’s either. They were a mossy green, and hard and assessing.
“And you came in here to do what about it?” Fox asked, then took another sip of his coffee.
Dale’s stern, stubbled jaw was clenched as he gripped the back of the chair he stood behind. “I came in here to tell you that it’s time to get to work. Bull says you already know what you’re supposed to do, so I figure you can go on and get to it, then. Day’s a’wastin’. Unless Bull is paying you to sit at his supper table and daydream.”
“Breakfast,” Fox deadpanned.
Dale huffed with that stupid, clipped piece of straw sticking from the corner of his mouth. “Excuse me?”
Fox stood and held up his cup of coffee. “It’s seven in the morning, Dale. It’s the breakfast table.”
“Look,” he said carefully, inching forward, but Fox didn’t retreat. Never. “I’m the foreman on this ranch. I just need you to do your job, whatever the hell that is, and be on your way. Cuz I don’t need an angry Bull stomping around here and upsetting the staff.”
Fox hoped what he’d said to Bull about sticking around for a while hadn’t been that bad of an idea. Regardless, he didn’t need to discuss anything with Dale, and it wasn’t the time to go there with Bull. Dale was actually right… the dick… Fox needed to get on his job and stop fantasizing. He was there to fix Bull’s situation, not cause another.
“I’m here to help him,” Fox said.
“Good. Make sure that’s all you do,” Dale threatened.
Bull saw Fox going in and out of his house as he worked in the training ring, but he tried not to get distracted as he concentrated on saddling the skittish seven-year-old Tobiano paint horse. Bull held Pepper’s lead and stroked the nervous animal’s withers and along its back, humming gently while another trainer did a final check on the straps.
Bull could hear Scarlet, one of his field trip organizers, walking by with a class full of bright-eyed, freezing sixth graders as she explained what Bull and his other trainer, Garvin, were doing. She allowed the kids to stop and observe, and Bull made sure to wave and do his part just as she’d asked all the hands to do. Bull loved children, but he preferred to let his staff handle entertaining the ones who visited the farm.
When Bull had turned part of his ranch into a petting zoo, complete with pony rides, hay mazes, and expert wildlife demonstrations, it’d been easy to get contracts with many of the local private schools and a few of the public ones. He thought it was important that science and nature were still a part of the school curriculum. Many of the young kids who came there lived in the city and had never even seen a horse, much less ridden one. Bull was even working on sponsoring internships for agriculture and farming graduate students at a couple of local universities.