Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 349(@200wpm)___ 279(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
“Bucks—male goats—usually do this thing called ‘buck cologne.’”
“It’s when the male goats urinate on their faces,” Iris informed me.
“Exactly right.” Holly smiled.
Holly was the second veterinarian at Boone’s practice in town. She’d graduated not too long ago, according to Beau, and was really good at her job.
I got to see that firsthand as she banded all but one male goat over the next thirty minutes.
“So,” I said as I watched the poor goat’s balls in front of me. “What happens next? I mean, logically, I know what will happen. But seeing and knowing are two different things…”
“They’ll lose blood flow. Probably fall off in about four to eight weeks,” she answered.
“Interesting,” I said as I eyed the bands. “Let me see one of those.”
She handed me a few bands.
I held out my hand for the pliers next when the bands didn’t stretch at all.
She handed those over next.
“Do you think this would fit around a man’s…” I trailed off, letting her fill in the blank.
She nodded. “Oh, absolutely. Did you see the size of that goat’s balls? I should’ve done this weeks ago, to be honest. I almost waited too long. Another week and I would’ve been doing surgery on them all.”
Iris made her way through all the goats, looking but not touching.
She stopped in front of the smallest of the three. “Boer goats are generally the ones that are shown.”
“Yes,” Holly said. “Do you know why?”
“Because they’re the gold standard for meat production,” she answered.
“That’s right.” Holly smiled.
Just as Holly said that, her eyes caught on something over my shoulder.
When I turned, it was to find two men on horseback topping the hill, and several cows running in front of them.
“Whoa,” Iris breathed.
“Stay here,” I said when Holly exited the pen and started rushing toward the far-off pasture where the girls were at.
Iris climbed onto the fence so she could get a better look, and I stood next to her, my eyes taking in the show.
Beau and Denver looked like they did this every day.
Beau looked like he did this for a living.
He rode the horse—which was so freakin’ beautiful—like he was born to do it.
And the black baseball cap now turned around facing backward on his head?
I hadn’t realized that I had a thing for men who wore baseball caps but there I was, practically panting over him.
“Beau!” Iris called.
Beau didn’t hear, his mind preoccupied with trying to keep the cows from running every which way but the way he wanted them to go.
His muscled thighs controlled the horse under him expertly, and I couldn’t help but be in a sort of awe as the horse responded practically without him having to tell her what to do.
It was obvious that she was highly trained.
A rough wind tore through the area, whipping my hair this way and that as we continued to watch Beau and Denver get the cows into the pen.
Two dogs came out of nowhere and the process immediately started to get infinitely easier for the duo.
“Wow,” Iris breathed.
I agreed.
Watching the dogs work was just as much fun as watching the two cowboys.
More cows showed from the opposite side that Beau and Denver had just come from, and soon there were so many cows in the area that I didn’t know where to look.
Beau, Denver, and the dogs didn’t seem to have any issues with the added numbers.
They just backed up and started herding the cows in all over again.
This time, there were more cowboys to help.
Several were familiar, too.
Boone was there, as well as Huxley. I even saw Courtland, though he was on a side-by-side and not a horse.
He was laughing as he blocked off one annoyed cow’s path.
Iris was enamored with the scene, her eyes moving everywhere as she tried to take it all in.
By the time they’d gotten the cows rounded up and locked away, Iris was on the move.
She started running toward the commotion, but I need not worry.
Beau saw her coming and leaned down to snatch her up onto the horse.
She didn’t sit stiffly as I would’ve expected.
She leaned forward and threw her arms around the horse’s neck, burying her face into her mane.
I let myself out of the goat pen, making sure to lock the gate properly before heading their way.
“You made it,” Beau said when I got close enough.
“I did,” I said as I raised my hand and ran my fingers down the jaw of Beau’s horse. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”
“Bitch,” Huxley supplied. “Careful. She might bite your finger off if you’re not careful.”
Beau rolled his eyes then replied dramatically, “It’s not my fault that my horse doesn’t like you, Huxley. Get over it.”
“Your horse likes no one,” Huxley countered. “I’m serious. Watch your fingers. I think you might need those to work at the hospital. Even if all you do is get paid to sit there and look pretty.”