I’m in charge of training the horses and running the ranch itself, hiring, training and firing staff. Patrick acts as a manager ofsorts and is also the man who manages the purchasing and selling of horses.
We also have a good-sized horse camp we provide for local kids, especially when school is out for holidays and vacations. Lance runs that side of the house.
When the kids get old enough, and if they are skilled and show promise, I take on the instruction for those that want to specialize in bronc training. But western style riding is all done by Lance, and he enjoys that.
But with all the shit we do, at the end of the day, we run a ranch that has horses, and they need to be taken care of, and part of that includes cleaning their shit.
“Fuck off, Caine! My priorities are my family, and my wife woke up sick again. She’s my number one priority, and I won’t apologize for it,” he yells at me.
“Is Rabecca pregnant?” my dad asks curiously, walking out of the barn.
Patrick frowns. “What do you mean?” he asks, brows drawn, confusion on his face.
My father smiles and walks to my brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She was sickagainthis morning?” Dad asks, emphasizingthe word again as he smiles at Patrick.
“Well, yeah,” Patrick says. “What’s that got to do with being pregnant?” he asks, his brow creased as he looks from me to my father.
I just shake my head. I love my brother, but he needs to get his head out of his ass.
“Go help Max after you muck the stalls,” Dad says, shaking his head.
Patrick just shrugs but does as he’s told.
“You alright?” my dad asks me as I saddle up my horse, preparing for a ride.
I’m getting ready to put some of the horses out to pasture for the day. I also plan on checking out the rigs that we have on our land.
Dad’s family invested in this land about fifty years ago but did nothing with it. When Dad quit bronc riding, he decided he wanted to make this land into a ranch. But his father, Franklin Caine Montgomery the first, discovered that his land had oil. We ended up building the ranch around the rigs he built. And let’s be honest, that’s how my family makes the bulk of our money.
My family is known throughout Texas, and not just because my dad and I were successful bronc riders, which we both were. We are well known because of Montgomery Oil. It’s the second largest oil distribution company in Texas.
The majority of our business is done in the Gulf of Mexico, which has several oil rigs along the coast. So, obviously when mygrandfather discovered this land had oil, he built three rigs to subsidize ranching, which by and large, is a dying industry in Texas.
Later on in the day, I have a few new riders that I’m going to begin training for the season. Lance told me they showed promise, and he thought they would make strong bronc riders.
Inside the barn, we have a machine that simulates the different speeds of a bronco. It’s basically like riding, giving new, inexperienced students the feel of what it is like to ride a bronco. It’s a great way for those who are just beginning to learn. The goal is to hold on for at least eight seconds, which may sound like nothing, but when that horse bucks, trust that it’s no mean feat to stay on for even two seconds. It takes skill, and it’s grueling on the body.
“I’m fine,” I tell my dad, surprised by the question.
“Bullshit,” my dad says forcefully. “You’ve been walking around with a chip on your shoulder for the last few weeks. Yelling at everyone within a five-yard radius.”
I look at my father and blink. I have been feeling off lately, but I didn’t think I was acting any differently than usual.
“You’ve been riding out more. Zeke said he’s been taking on more of the training.”
“I’ve just enjoyed being with the horses lately. Zeke is better with people. Plus, I’m teaching the young class we just added this week. I thought you were supposed to be retired?” I remind him, raising abrow as I tighten the harness around my horse.
“Well, I do still live here, even if you and your brothers run the place.” My father raises an identical brow as mine.
Looking at him, sometimes it’s creepy, like seeing myself in the future. “Why don’t we take a ride out together?”
That’s code for let’s talk.
Fuck. I groan at the realization that he wants to have a real conversation. We never talk, at least not about serious things like feelings.
The day is perfect for taking the horses out to pasture, so I guess today it’s a two-person job.
I wait for my dad to saddle up his horse, and then we ride out together, allowing the other horses to trot around us.
