Jenn crouched down to Tony’s level and gauged the situation of whether to offer her hand to him or not. I appreciated the fuck out of that.
“Hi, I’m Jenn.”
“My name is Payton, but I like Tony the best.”
“Hi, Tony. I can tell you’ve heard our watch donkey, Juanpablo.”
The way my son’s eyes went wide and his mouth turned into an O was comical. For once, he looked like the little boy he was.
“A watch donkey?” he breathed out the words in awe.
“Yes. He’s kinda like a watch dog, but he’s a donkey.” She got back up and smiled at me. “I have some snacks and coffee ready. Since Crew isn’t here yet, would you want to go check out the donkey?” She looked amused.
“Daddy, please!” Tony tugged my hand. “Can we?”
He was interested in trekking across a dusty yard to see an animal? “Of course. Let’s go.”
“This way.” Jenn gestured, then let out a little laugh. “Not that it’s not obvious. Just follow the noise.”
Tony giggled too, practically hopping next to me.
I didn’t want to hope yet, but even if I didn’t get the job, the fact that Tony got to experience this kind of joy was worth the drive alone.
Chapter 2
Crew
Iinspected the fence post, trying to decide whether it needed to be replaced immediately or if it could wait until we redid this whole section. It was on our very long list of things to do. Since we needed to complete it before the broodmares finished foaling—we’d be swapping pastures so the mamas and babies would have a bigger space—it was high up on the list. Another kick to the post, and I decided it could stay.
Shooter suddenly went on alert, gaze focused and ears forward. A moment ago he’d been grazing and following along behind me as I walked the fence. My eight-year-old gelding was so bomb-proof he acted like a dog most of the time. I didn’t have to worry about him spooking and taking off. So if he was alert and wary, I knew something was going on.
A second later, I heard it. Juanpablo was braying at the top of his considerable lungs. I wasn’t too far out from the house but Iwas sure he could be heard for miles. Despite having the run of several pastures, Juanpablo usually stuck to the paddock next to the house, acting as an alert donkey.
Anyone who said donkeys weren’t protective and territorial had never met one.
Gathering up Shooter’s reins, I tossed them over his neck and climbed back in the saddle. I wasn’t worried, since it was likely some sort of visitor, but Juanpablo wasn’t quitting and I thought I should check out what was going on.
With the barest squeeze of my legs, Shooter moved and after we passed through the gate, he settled into an easy canter. The motion was second nature to me—I’d been riding since before I could walk—and Shooter and I were one. I knew when I saw him at the auction as a three-year-old he was something special. He might have failed at being a show horse but he was damn good under saddle.
The house came into view before I could really see what was going on. I slowed Shooter to a walk when I noticed Mom and a man standing by Juanpablo’s fence. Since the donkey had stopped braying, Mom had either bribed him with a carrot or Juanpablo was just happy to have his favorite human’s attention.
The truck was unfamiliar, an older model with faded paint and more than a few dents, but that meant it was well used. As were the man’s faded and well-worn jeans. Both he and Mom turned at the sound of approaching hooves, and while Mom’s face lit up, the man reached down.
That’s when I noticed the little boy, clutching a stuffed bird. When the man, who I could only assume was his father, touched his shoulder, the boy looked up and his mouth fell open. He stepped back, nearly causing his father to stumble.
“Whoa,” I murmured and Shooter instantly stopped. I dismounted and left the reins over his neck. Shooter nosed myshoulder and followed behind me as I walked closer. I stopped a few feet away from the group and Shooter stayed at my side.
“Crew! Perfect timing. I was just about to call you.” Mom wiggled the two-way radio. Cell service could be spotty sometimes out on the property, so we usually carried the long-range radios when we were out. “This is Malachi Trevino and his son, Tony. Mal is here for the interview.”
I was about to open my mouth to ask my mom what the hell she was talking about, but she made her blue eyes wide. I took the cue for what it was and shut up. Later I’d find out why she’d set up an interview for a position we weren’t hiring for. At least not yet.
“Nice to meet you.” I pasted on a smile and held out a hand. Mal had a hearty shake that spoke well of him. “And you too, Tony.”
The boy wrapped one arm around his dad’s leg. “That’s a big horse. Like Jaina.”
“He’s sixteen three hands,” I confirmed with a single nod. Tony’s brow crunched together. It took me a second to realize he didn’t know what I was talking about. But then again, he was probably no more than four so I wasn’t surprised. “He’s big because he’s gotta carry me around.”
Tony considered that for a second then tucked his face against his dad’s knee. “You splash paint on him?”
