“If you want to overcome that fear of horses, I can definitely help,” I told him.
“It’s not a fear, it’s just a—”
“Whatever it is, a real cowboy knows how to speak to a horse, and he also knows how to ride on,” I said.
“Mary hasn’t been ridden in a long time,” he said, shaking his head as he continued to approach me. “And while I haven’t ridden a horse before, I’ll help with getting the horses fed and cleaned, but I’m drawing the line there.”
I nodded. “That’s absolutely fine. As long as you know, it might keep you up all night.”
“Are you trying to convince me not to help?”
That wasn’t the case at all. I laughed. “You’re a hoot.”
“Speaking of helping, are you coming on the morning rounds? We’ve got eggs to collect, goats to milk, and feed to spread.”
“Absolutely. I’m ready to get down and dirty.” I lifted a leg and slapped at the side of my boots. “But if those alpacas start spittin’ again, I’ll need to have serious words with them.”
Milking animals was never something I’d done before; it was a little too intimate for me. I didn’t mind helping see new life into the world, especially foals, but squeezing on those fleshy nipples was something else entirely.
Jace made it fun, and almost a competition. “You take those, I’ll take these. Whoever gets the least out of them has to transport it down to processing.”
“What’s so bad about processing?”
He just laughed.
Touring around the ranch had been a scratch the surface type of deal. I hadn’t been to the milk or cheese processing area which was behind the giftshop. I also hadn’t stepped foot in their either. And since I didn’t manage to fill my bucket quite as much as Jace, it fell to me to transport them down.
“I guess I’ve had more practice,” he said.
“Sometimes I think that type of hand motion comes naturally to people,” I said with a smile.
He gasped. “Are you throwing shade?”
“Uh. I don’t—no, I don’t think so. It’s pretty overcast, so, maybe.”
He laughed so much, I wondered if he was going to fall to the ground and begin pounding fists into the dirt. “Ok, so enjoy taking these.”
“Is the factory just open?”
His brow twitched. “Balls. I guess I’ve to come and open it then.”
Transporting the metal buckets with their lids, we had a small cart. I hauled it along behind us as we walked past the alpacas who came running up to the fence, ready to strike, mainly me. Their eyes and pursed mouths, ready to shoot with precision. Thankfully, they didn’t.
“They’ll get used to you,” Jace said. “Plus, once you begin feeding them by hand, they’ll know you’re a friend.”
“That all depends on if I want to be their friend,” I grumbled. “The goats, I can deal with, they’re small creatures. And their little head rams are like one of those muscle massages, you know, the hard ones that beat sore muscles.”
“What? They beat the muscles? Not how I’d take a massage.”
At the building, I could understand why Jace hated it. The place had a pungent smell to it, which was just what cheese smelled like. I didn’t quite mind it, I’d smelled much worse, especially around sick horses.
Jace kept a healthy distance from the building as I was forced to navigate the inside of the factory myself. It was all pretty straightforward with a chilled room for the milk awaiting the pasteurization. I didn’t know that, but the signposts said it was.
I spent about five minutes looking around, and seeing all the information posters dotted around on the walls.
Jace was outside talking the alpacas that had approached the fencing. “I’ll feed you in a second, and don’t spit at our new friend. He’s just trying to do his job you know, plus, I think he might even help us get new alpaca friends.”
“I will,” I asked, this time startling him.
