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“Righto,” the man replied. His gaze finally stopped scrutinizing Mack and went to Bindi. “Who’s the guy in the back of your car?” he asked.
“Oh.” Bindi jumped and turned to stare at Mack through the small rear window, as if she’d almost forgotten he was there. “This is Mack, the new guy from Stargazer.”
“Righto,” the man said again, but narrowed his eyes at Mack before he turned to go back inside. Mack squared his shoulders and tilted his chin a little higher.
Madonna let out a loud whinny and pulled on the lead rope, impatient to get to the stables, which must be around the back of the lodge, judging by the direction her pricked ears were pointing. The little filly had hardly moved for the whole trip, clearly defeated by her struggle in the fence.
“Almost there, my girl,” Bindi called through the window. She glanced back at Mack, an unreadable look in her eyes, then edged the car forward, up the hill and through a cleared section toward a set of buildings higher up the slope. Wooden fences and the edge of a large shed built out of iron sketched themselves through the canvas of tangled trees. Bindi stopped the pickup out the front of the large open side of the shed. These must be the stables, but they didn’t look like any Montana barn he was used to.
“I’ll take her.” Bindi was already out of the car and gently taking Madonna’s lead from his hand. “Are you able to carry Melody inside?”
“Sure.” He waited until Bindi turned away with Madonna before he levered himself to his knees, letting the sharp pain in his leg subside, and then maneuvered himself awkwardly out of the tray. Just as his feet hit the red dirt, a voice sounded behind him.
“Bindi, Dale just told me what happened. Thank God you found her when you did.”
Mack turned in time to see a man in his mid-fifties striding toward him. This must be Steve. He was closely followed by the guy who’d greeted them on the stairs. Shit, he hoped his new boss hadn’t seen that moment of weakness. His leg was fine as long as he kept moving. It was only if it was immobile, or scrunched beneath him in the rear tray of a ute, that it caused him pain.
“And thank you for helping her.” Steve reached out a hand to shake Mack’s. “Helluva way to start your first day on the station, but we’re more than grateful. I’m Steve, and this is Dale.” Mack shook both men’s hands. Steve had a warm, genuine handshake, as did Dale, although Dale’s was slightly less benevolent. Dean had told him something about his new boss, so he already knew that Steve was a fair man, rock-solid, with a sharp mind and passion for bringing cattle farming to a more sustainable level in the twenty-first century.
“Mack Diaz. Nice to meet you, sir.” Mack touched the brim of his hat, including Dale in his address. “I’ll bring her in, if you’ll show me where you want her.” He turned back to draw the foal into his arms. Mack didn’t want to relinquish the filly quite yet. He’d started the job, and he’d like to finish it.
Steve led him inside and opened the door to a stall. Mack lay the filly down in the thick layer of straw, the blindfold still around her head. Then he stood and backed away so Steve and Dale could take a look at their filly. “Good job,” Steve said, patting Mack on the shoulder before he knelt in the straw.
It was nice to get out of the heat of the blazing sun. He could feel the beginning of a headache coming on. Not good.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bindi lead the mare into the stall next door.
“This is going to need stitches. We’ll need the vet,” Steve said. Mack had already decided the same thing on the ride in the back of the car. He was pleased to see that Steve wasn’t one of these slap-dash cowboys who thought they could heal an animal themself. He treated his animals with respect and care.
“I’ll call Bill.” Dale stood and pulled a cell phone from his back pocket. “I hope he’s not on some job hours out of town.”
“Me too,” Steve replied with a grimace, but Dale was already striding away down the length of the stables, phone to his ear. “I’m going to let her up so she can suckle from her mother,” Steve said, turning his attention back to the foal. “The bleeding has just about stopped and it’ll help calm both her and the mare.”
Mack nodded his agreement. It was what he would’ve done. He watched as Steve helped the filly to her feet and Bindi led the mare into the stall. Madonna snuffled her baby and then turned to let her stumble toward a teat. Dale arrived with a bag full of hay, which he hung on a hook on the wall, and Madonna tugged out great mouthfuls of food.
“Bill will be out in an hour, or so,” Dale reported.
Mack leaned against the outside of the stall, easing his leg a little as he did so. His head was beginning to pound, but he tried to ignore it.
“We’re going to have to figure something out with these latches,” Steve said as he watched the mother and baby settle in. “We can’t have her getting out and risking her filly again.”
“I might be able to help with that,” Mack said. “We had a couple of escape artists on our ranch, too. My father found a neat invention online that might work here.”
Three pairs of eyes all turned to study him. “Thanks,” Steve finally said. “That’d be most appreciated. This mare and her little filly are going to be worth a pretty penny if my hunch is right. They’re the start of my breeding program, and I don’t want either of them to get hurt.”
“I can see that,” Mack agreed.
“I’ll wait here for the vet,” Steve said. “Dale, you’d better get back to the kitchen. Alek and Aaron will be going mental, having to deal with lunch service all on their own.”
Dale grimaced, but squared his shoulders and nodded. “Yeah, will do. When are Skylar and the rest of the women due back?”
“Skylar promised to be back by five so she can finish the prep for dinner,” Steve replied.
Dale's heavy sigh indicated it wouldn’t be soon enough for his liking. “Righto, I’m going back to the fray.” With that, he gave the mare one more quick glance, and strode out of the stables.
Mack mentally reviewed his list of staff at the station and decided that Skylar was Steve’s stepdaughter, as well as head chef at the resort. By all accounts, she was something of a genius when it came to crafting gourmet meals. Which didn’t interest him. Give him a rare steak and a heap of fries any day of the week, and he’d be a happy man.
Steve turned his concentration to Bindi, who was cooing to Madonna and lightly stroking the soft spot just below her ear. He raised one eyebrow in speculation. “Bindi, I know you were supposed to be at the bridal luncheon, but now you’re here…” Steve didn’t finish his question.
