“Uh, yeah, when we use the money, we make from the horses at the livestock show, we can bid higher on the alpacas,” he said, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious idea in the entire world, and maybe it was.
“Then that give you more reason to work with me,” I told him.
“Maybe it does,” he said. “And maybe my dad already promised me if I helped you, we’d get more alpacas.”
Now it was beginning to make a lot more sense. He’d been coerced into helping. I didn’t blame him, he was probably one day going to inherit this place, and I’d seen firsthand how bratty some kids could be when it came to getting what they wanted. But I might not have branded Jace with that same bratty brush, he was actually putting in the work.
“We still have a lot of work to do,” he said, clapping his hands together. “First up, the coop. I saw a couple of the hens out and around annoying the rabbits, so fingers crossed they’ve laid a whole bunch of eggs for us to collect.”
Another thing I wasn’t used to but found surprisingly fun. I was definitely going to enjoy getting used to it.
Jace had all these fun facts about all the different hens, and I couldn’t tell any of them apart from each other. He’d also called out to a couple of the elusive barn cats that would apparently patrol the surrounding areas at night and keep wild animals away. At first, I thought he was describing panthers of cheetah, you know, big cats. And when they came out of hiding, two giant black Maine coons. They looked like small beasts; I’d give them that.
They approached Jace, purring up around his legs.
“These are Raphael and Donatella,” he said. “After the Ninja Turtles, except Donatella is the female version.”
“Oh. And they’re not vicious, it seems.”
He laughed. “Oh, they’ve got claws. And they are brother and sister, both of them fixed, which is an awful way of putting it, but they cannot you know, breed.”
I almost went to kneel, but realized underfoot was all the chicken poop. In a slight squat, I reached out and stroked one ofthem, their fur was incredibly soft. Playing with it between my fingers, I found myself unable to stop smiling.
“Just don’t go for their belly,” he said.
“Why not?” And my hand slipped around the side to see before he could answer. The cat answered for him, swiping a claw at my leg before both of them skittered back off into the barn.
Jace laughed. “They don’t like it,” he continued to giggle.
“And how do they interact with people at the petting zoo?”
“Oh, they don’t come out. They’re rarely seen, so count yourself lucky,” he told me. “Anyway, back to the coop. These eggs are not going to collect themselves.”
“Right.” It was reciprocal. As long as I got down and dirty with touching freshly laid eggs, he’d help me with the horses. And I was going to need it. That was for sure.
5. JACE
Working with Lorenzo was fun, considering I’d been adamant about enjoying working alone, except for the mornings when my mom was up early, she would make the rounds with me, or whenever I was sick and forced to stay away from the animals, she picked up the slack.
Since Lorenzo had arrived, I hadn’t spent much time not thinking about him. It was stressful, right from the jump, he was right there, and I was being told to tone it down like I was flamboyant or something, and trust me, I could be, but regular days at the ranch, I was not smearing my face in glitter.
In my bedroom, it was the late morning. I’d eaten some eggs and toast and mentally prepared myself for the walking tours to visit soon. I laid on my bed, hugging my alpaca plushie, made from alpaca yarn. I’d tried my hand at crochet before, but my hands were more equipped for use in the kitchen, whipping up batters and doughs.
My bedroom had changed a lot, but it didn’t represent the real me. The me that hid away in the corners, searching for a universe where I could jump on pinky marshmallow clouds and where it rained juice-filled candies. Tucked under my mattress, I pulled out my coloring book and part-time journal.
The coloring book was filled with drawing of farm animals and crops. And we actually had a small vegetable garden around the back of the house. That was my mom’s pride and joy, although she would’ve said having three bright kids if asked.
“Where are you?” I grumbled to myself, searching for a specific drawing.A horse. “We’re gonna become good friends.” Although horses continued to frighten me, I knew that this was something I was going to have to do. It wasn’t so much MaryPopping in the stables, she was harmless, but three new horses, stressed and scared. My heart thumped in my ear drums.
Horses weren’t inherently bad, just my experiences with them. They looked like they were going to take my hand off every time I brought a salt lick near them, specifically, Mary, but that was because her eyes always looked like that.
After about ten minutes coloring in the horse in fun pinks and purples, the anxious thump in my ears quietened and I didn’t feel too bad about the upcoming change to my schedule, because at least Lorenzo would be there, and he seemed to know what he was doing with horses.
I stuffed the coloring book back under my bed and my crayons back to where they came from. Before the afternoon kicked in, I went to my closet and opened up the door to see a calendar, and under that, my reward chart.
“Woke up early,” I said, taking a sparkly pink star sticker and dotting it under the column. “Eggs, did that.” I placed another sparkly star, this one blue. “Milked the goat, check.” Another pink star. “I had breakfast, another tick.” And another star. The charts were on tearable pieces of paper that I changed monthly, and once they were done, I added them to a neat binder in order of when they were done. I added stars twice a day, depending on what I’d done. The other sections of the chart included the petting zoo, followed by feeding the animals, and finally a nightly shower. There were more columns I added random things to, like completed drawings, or anytime I baked something that everyone loved, I would add a sticker.
Each month, a completed reward chart meant I got a reward. They were small things, like new crayons, or glitter pens, or even a new coloring book. I liked rewards, and without someone to give me them, or call me theirgood boy, I’d developed my own system, which wasn’t all that unique.
