I couldn’t help the chuckle and Mal answered before I could. “That’s his coat color. It is called paint, so good job. But his hair comes in like that, in patches of white and red. It’s pretty cool, huh?”
Tony didn’t look so sure about that. Shooter chose that moment to snort and nudge me hard enough that I had to take a sidestep. Tony let out an “eep” and jumped behind his dad’s legs. My boy was tired of being ignored. Or more likely, mad we’d stood here this long and he hadn’t gotten a treat. The houseusually meant carrots or apple slices. Mom was a sucker that way.
“Tony’s gonna hang out with me while you and his dad talk,” Mom said brightly, redirecting the conversation. She glanced up at me. “You going to use the house office or yours?”
I contemplated that only for a few seconds. Dad was over at the training barn with Hawk and Gemma today, so the house office would be empty. And I was sure both father and child would be more comfortable if they were closer to each other. “House. Gimme a sec to turn Shooter out.”
I led my horse over to the next paddock. Shooter wouldn’t care if he was sharing with Juanpablo, but the donkey certainly would. He got along better with Shooter than some of the others, but he still didn’t like his territory being invaded. I unbuckled the saddle and set it on the top rail, dropped the saddle pad in the dirt because it needed to be cleaned anyway, and then removed his bridle. Shooter stood still, only his tail swishing, and when I was done, he moseyed through the gate and started grazing immediately.
The little group had waited for me, and we all trouped into the house together. Mom kept up a constant stream of chatter, asking Tony what he would like to do and if he needed a snack. I took off my battered ball cap and hung it on one of the hooks, before jerking my chin in the opposite direction
“This way.”
Mal gave one more glance toward his son where Mom was already getting the boy settled at the island in the kitchen. The farmhouse used to be all closed off, but that had changed when we were little. The renovations had been a pain in the ass, but Mom wanted to be able to see her whole brood at any given time, so it was an open floor plan now.
I led the way down the hall. While the kitchen, living room, dining room and parlor were all open concept, my parentshad built additions over the years. It had been a must with ten children. To the left there was a hallway where a fourth bathroom and office had been built. There were also two full bathrooms on the second floor and a half-bath on the third.
I left the door to the office cracked open, knowing we wouldn’t be disturbed and settled behind the desk. I gestured to the empty seat across from me with one hand and woke up the computer by jiggling the mouse with the other. I was greeted by a split screen; Mal’s email open in one window, his resume in the other. I skimmed the information and saw everything I needed to know.
Good job, Mom.
“Thanks for coming in today,” I said, to get the ball rolling. I had to get my brain in the right frame of mind. “How’d you hear about us?”
Mal answered after a second’s hesitation. “I saw your site. You have quite the operation here.”
“We’re proud of it.” I rested my forearms on the desk. “Tell me about your experience.”
He fidgeted with a worn spot on his knee but caught himself and looked me dead on. “I’ve worked the land since I was born. We had Simmental. And grew our own orchard grass, timothy, and alfalfa.”
“Beef?” I asked and Mal gave a single affirmative nod. I figured as much. There wasn’t any other reason to raise Simmental. “How many head?”
Something complicated ran over his face, but he answered quickly. “Usually upwards of two hundred. We weren’t a large operation, but we did all right.”
Again with the past tense. I sensed a story there and had to decide if I wanted to push. I had to walk a fine line here. As his potential employer, there were things Icouldn’task. But by the same token, there were things I needed to know. I looked overhis resume again, such as it was. A whole lot of skills, not so much on employers. It clicked.
“Family farm?”
“Yes.” His voice was tight, and he glanced back at the door. After a second, he added quietly, “My dad passed and we had to sell.”
I held up a hand and nodded. I understood how it went. I’d seen more than one, and heard of plenty more, of farms folding for just that reason. It spoke to the fickle nature of the business more than the caliber of the person running the place. Sometimes you could do everything right and things still went to shit.
“Your list of skills is pretty impressive,” I said, redirecting. “Horsemanship, cattle, mechanic, and, oh. Farrier. Are you certified?”
Mal shook his head. “I took some classes, but it was so I could take care of our own stock.”
“Still, a good skill to have.” The certification wasn’t necessary to be a farrier, and if I hired him on, it wasn’t like I would suddenly put him to work in that capacity. We had a farrier we’d been using for years. But it could come in handy. I did all right myself, but I wasn’t that good at it. “You said you looked at our site. I assume you read our mission.”
For the first time, Mal gave me an actual smile. “You make stewardship of the land and health and wellness of your animals your top priority. Trust me when I say that’s a mission I am fully behind.”
Good. Too many people saw the land as something to take from and didn’t prioritize animals as living creatures. Saw them as lesser beings. I could usually spot that type of folk immediately, and I didn’t think Mal fell into that category. Time would tell if he was speaking the truth, but I had a good feeling.
“The position is for a general hand. You’d be mucking stalls, feeding, fixing fences, moving our herd, doing turn out, chasing horses…it’s not glamorous.”
Now I was rewarded with a chuckle and it lit up his whole face. Suddenly he didn’t look so haggard and a hell of a lot more handsome.
“Yes, sir. I expected as much.” Some of the humor died from his eyes. “If I’m honest, I’ve been looking for work for a little while. I love livestock, I love the land, and I just want to be doing an honest day’s work for a fair wage.”
My estimation of the man rose, because he sounded sincere. Not that I had formed much of an opinion yet. I only knew that he seemed kind, cared about his kid, and seemed to know what he was talking about. If he really wanted to work, he could be taught. And if he already knew, then we were headed in the right direction.
