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“Talk away.”
He smiled. The man had a beautiful set of teeth—no doubt the best orthodontia Jason McCray had been able to buy—framed by those incredible and talented lips.
“Just don’t expect him to answer.”
“Funny.” Dusty closed her eyes, mentally releasing all fear and stress from her body. Such a mental wipe was imperative if she wanted the animal to trust her. She breathed deeply, settled herself in her happy place—her grassy meadow at her Montana ranch. After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, walked to the front of Diablo’s pen, made eye contact, and began crooning in the sing-song voice that had met with success in the past. She told the bull what a big strong boy he was, how she wasn’t going to hurt him, to please let her in. Soon, Diablo was her whole universe. Nothing else existed. She begin to sing softly to him, the lullaby her mama used to sing to her years and years ago, before she got sick.
Over in Killarney
Many years ago,
Me mother sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.
Just a simple little ditty,
In her good ould Irish way,
And I’d give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, hush now, don’t you cry.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, that’s an Irish lullaby.
Oft in dreams I wander
To that cot again,
I feel her arms a-huggin’ me
As when she held me then.
And I hear her voice a-hummin’
To me as in days of yore,
When she used to rock me fast asleep
Outside the cabin door.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, hush now, don’t you cry.
Toora loora looral, Toora loora li,
Toora loora looral, that’s an Irish lullaby.
With tears misting in her eyes, Dusty reached out and touched Diablo’s cheek.
“No!” Zach rushed toward her, tackling her to the ground to get her away from the bull. “He doesn’t like to be touched on his face!”
