Jocelyn’s chin tilted toward me, sending my gaze scampering like a kid who’d heard his mama’s footsteps on the stairs and was afraid to be caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Or staring, as my case may be.
“Was the calf all right? When you checked him over earlier, I mean?”
I grunted a response. If I opened my mouth, I’d more than likely utter something embarrassing. Like how fine I thought her. Or how proud I was that she’d not allowed fear to hold her back. Or how regal she’d looked astride Domino.
My thumbnail sliced across the pad of my index finger, a nervous tick I thought I’d conquered. When the family had agreed to open the ranch to guests, the possibility of an influx of money had cushioned the inevitability that I would be spending more time with people—women, specifically—than I had in the past. I’d thought that would be okay. That I’d be answering questions or explaining ranch life and that I’d never find myself tongue-tied, alone with a pretty lady.
Nate should be the one tracking a path to the cattle yard with Jocelyn close enough he could feel the warmth of her body beside his. Nate didn’t have any problems talking to women. He was all carefree charm and personality. Instead of grunting at Jocelyn, he’d no doubt make her laugh and feel at ease.
And it wasn’t as if other aspects of the ranch didn’t need my attention. With the calves soon to drop, I needed to check on the heifers at least twice a day. All the birthing instruments needed to be ready at a moment’s notice, not to mention the deworming of the replacement heifers coming in the next day.
Not sure why I hadn’t thought of it before. Instead of splitting the ranch and guest supervision duties, I could put Nate and Miriam in charge of the Whalen group and make sure no problems arose with the herd. Cows didn’t care if I came up with the right words…or any words at all, for that matter, and I wouldn’t be made to feel like a weak-kneed, wet behind the ears cowpuncher.
We stopped at the paddock, and Jocelyn placed her foot on the bottom board, leaning her folded arms across the top. The calf and mama stood a few feet away, the young’un close to his mother’s side.
“He’s so cute,” Jocelyn crooned. “What are you going to name him?” She turned her face toward me, shapely brows raised in expectation.
I rocked back onto my heels. “Not planning on naming him.”
Her brows folded. “Why not?”
“He’ll get a tag with a number.” I touched my ear.
“Now, that won’t do.” She turned back around to watch the duo.
“Ma’am—”
Only one arched line climbed her forehead this time.
“Jocelyn.”
She smiled. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I swallowed back the admission that this exchange in its entirety was difficult. “These animals aren’t pets.”
“I know that.”
“The rule to raising animals for food is—”
“I’m going to call him Gus.”
Not to give them names. I gripped the wood slat, sending my gaze skyward. The newborn mooed, hooking my retreating regard and bringing it to stare into his dark, soft eyes.Shoot.
Climbing over the fence, I shook my head. Maybe a 4-H kid wanted a new project. “C’mon, Gus.” The radiance from Jocelyn’s smile soaked into my skin as I slipped a halter over the calf’s ears, fondling them a bit to get him used to what was to come, and led him into a chute with a head gate. Once secure, I gathered a tag, the applicator, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the small barn.
Jocelyn met me at the door. “I know I said you wouldn’t even know I was here, but…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Can I help?”
With a single nod of my head, I had her follow me. The rubbing alcohol burned my nostrils as I opened the bottle.
“What can I do?”
I wiped Gus’s ears with an alcohol-soaked cloth. “Make sure he stays relaxed.”
She placed one hand under Gus’s chin and stroked his forehead with the other. “You’re going to be all right. Just getting your ears pierced is all.” She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes going wide then filling with laughter. “He’s sucking on my fingers.”
Two halves of the tag already loaded into the sterilized applicator, I gently flattened Gus’s ear and guided the applicator to the soft, central part. Squeeze.Click. Release.
Jocelyn pulled her fingers from Gus’s mouth and gave his head one more stroke before I freed him from the chute. He ran to his mama, who nudged him with her nose, checking him to make sure he was all right.
