Read Online Last of the Summer Tomatoes by Sherrie Henry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sherrie Henry
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we went out to the expectant cows yesterday.”
“They don’t need much care, a brushing now and then, some oats when it’s cold. You know how to ride?”
“No. I think I remember a pony ride in Central Park when I was real young, but I’m not sure if it was real or a dream.” Not like the dream I had of you….
“We’ve got a real tame one, ol’ Bess. If you want to learn, she’d be your horse.”
“Maybe. I know there’s a lot of work to be done.”
Walt came out of the office. “Storm system coming up from the southwest. Doesn’t look too bad, but I want the moms-to-be in the barn just in case. Help me round them up?”
“Sure. The dogs are out back?”
“Yep, haven’t let them out of the pen yet.”
Kyle stood up from the cow he’d attached to the machine. “You pen your dogs up? Thought they were supposed to be guard dogs as well.”
“They are, to an extent. We’ve had an explosion of coyotes; a pack killed two of Hotch’s herders last week. Figured I’d lock ’em up at night and install some motion-detection security lights. I’ve seen the lights pop on a couple of times when I first installed them. That made the dogs bark, hopefully scaring them off. Seems to work; haven’t seen much of them since, but better be safe than sorry. I also secured the chicken coop a bit better too. Watch the extra barbed wire when you go out to feed ’em, okay?”
“Will do, Pops. Does Hotch want to put together a hunting party?”
“He’s been making noises about it. I don’t blame him. He had two of the best herders out there. If we hear of another attack, we’ll probably go. You game?”
“Sure. How about you, Kyle? You ever hunt?”
“You mean like with guns?”
“How else do you hunt? Unless you’re a crossbow type.”
Kyle kept his attention to the next cow in line. “No, there’s no hunting in Manhattan.”
“Yeah, sorry, I keep forgetting. You seem… at home right now. Like you’ve been doing this for a while.”
Kyle shrugged. “I like this job, like the cows. They seem to like me.”
Walt looked over Kyle’s shoulder. “You have a good, light touch. They don’t like to be manhandled. You okay here while we go round up the five?”
“I guess so.”
“Just yell if there’s a problem. You know where the kill switch is. Glenda can help too. Remember, dial zero one on the phone.”
“Okay. I hope the cows are okay.”
“We get them in before the first round of thunder, we’ll be just fine.”
Walt and Sam headed out toward the large pen where the dogs were barking. A whistle later and the dogs were bounding toward the cows in the outer pasture.
Kyle went back to his thoughts as he processed each cow. Sam had seemed personable, nice, friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly. He shook his head. He knew he was looking for any sign of “gayness,” any little hint. He was desperate for it. After having that face in his dream, after experiencing that face and body touching him, loving him, he craved for that little blip on the gaydar. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t going to find it. Sam was the stereotypical all-American, hot-blooded cowboy, with a girl on each arm for the weekend. He was sure of it.
Before he knew it, clouds had blown in, and the wind picked up. He heard Walt and Sam yelling at the cows, herding them into the other barn. He looked out the window and saw Sam on a horse, he and the dogs working in a flawless tandem to move the cows into safety. It was a sight to behold, Sam atop that muscled beast, his thighs clenching, holding him upright as he maneuvered back and forth, keeping the cows in a group to the barn. He drew his attention away and back to the cows, lest he get out of sequence. He figured he probably needed to finish up quickly if there was a storm coming up.
Fifteen minutes later both Walt and Sam walked into the milking barn. Kyle was finishing up with the last cycle of cows.
“Good job, Kyle. We’ve got the main herd in the small
“They don’t need much care, a brushing now and then, some oats when it’s cold. You know how to ride?”
“No. I think I remember a pony ride in Central Park when I was real young, but I’m not sure if it was real or a dream.” Not like the dream I had of you….
“We’ve got a real tame one, ol’ Bess. If you want to learn, she’d be your horse.”
“Maybe. I know there’s a lot of work to be done.”
Walt came out of the office. “Storm system coming up from the southwest. Doesn’t look too bad, but I want the moms-to-be in the barn just in case. Help me round them up?”
“Sure. The dogs are out back?”
“Yep, haven’t let them out of the pen yet.”
Kyle stood up from the cow he’d attached to the machine. “You pen your dogs up? Thought they were supposed to be guard dogs as well.”
“They are, to an extent. We’ve had an explosion of coyotes; a pack killed two of Hotch’s herders last week. Figured I’d lock ’em up at night and install some motion-detection security lights. I’ve seen the lights pop on a couple of times when I first installed them. That made the dogs bark, hopefully scaring them off. Seems to work; haven’t seen much of them since, but better be safe than sorry. I also secured the chicken coop a bit better too. Watch the extra barbed wire when you go out to feed ’em, okay?”
“Will do, Pops. Does Hotch want to put together a hunting party?”
“He’s been making noises about it. I don’t blame him. He had two of the best herders out there. If we hear of another attack, we’ll probably go. You game?”
“Sure. How about you, Kyle? You ever hunt?”
“You mean like with guns?”
“How else do you hunt? Unless you’re a crossbow type.”
Kyle kept his attention to the next cow in line. “No, there’s no hunting in Manhattan.”
“Yeah, sorry, I keep forgetting. You seem… at home right now. Like you’ve been doing this for a while.”
Kyle shrugged. “I like this job, like the cows. They seem to like me.”
Walt looked over Kyle’s shoulder. “You have a good, light touch. They don’t like to be manhandled. You okay here while we go round up the five?”
“I guess so.”
“Just yell if there’s a problem. You know where the kill switch is. Glenda can help too. Remember, dial zero one on the phone.”
“Okay. I hope the cows are okay.”
“We get them in before the first round of thunder, we’ll be just fine.”
Walt and Sam headed out toward the large pen where the dogs were barking. A whistle later and the dogs were bounding toward the cows in the outer pasture.
Kyle went back to his thoughts as he processed each cow. Sam had seemed personable, nice, friendly. Maybe a bit too friendly. He shook his head. He knew he was looking for any sign of “gayness,” any little hint. He was desperate for it. After having that face in his dream, after experiencing that face and body touching him, loving him, he craved for that little blip on the gaydar. Deep down, he knew he wasn’t going to find it. Sam was the stereotypical all-American, hot-blooded cowboy, with a girl on each arm for the weekend. He was sure of it.
Before he knew it, clouds had blown in, and the wind picked up. He heard Walt and Sam yelling at the cows, herding them into the other barn. He looked out the window and saw Sam on a horse, he and the dogs working in a flawless tandem to move the cows into safety. It was a sight to behold, Sam atop that muscled beast, his thighs clenching, holding him upright as he maneuvered back and forth, keeping the cows in a group to the barn. He drew his attention away and back to the cows, lest he get out of sequence. He figured he probably needed to finish up quickly if there was a storm coming up.
Fifteen minutes later both Walt and Sam walked into the milking barn. Kyle was finishing up with the last cycle of cows.
“Good job, Kyle. We’ve got the main herd in the small
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