“You were in the army?” she asked.
He nodded. “It was a bad time. I saw things I wish I could forget. My old sergeant works near here. He’s just taken in a three-legged wolf that was stalking calves over at the Denton place. Poor old creature was almost blind and couldn’t hunt. They gave him to Sarge. He’s a rehabilitator,” he explained. “Except that you can’t rehabilitate a half-blind, old, three-legged wolf. So the wolf lives with him now. Even watches TV, we hear,” he added with a chuckle.
“My goodness! We had packs of wolves up in Montana who were predators. We lost cattle to them all the time.”
He nodded. “It’s hard to co-exist with wild animals. But the earth belongs to everything, not just to humans. Starving creatures will eat whatever they can catch. That’s nature.”
“I suppose so.”
“Now, let’s get those steps fixed before one of you breaks a leg on them,” he said, and started ferrying lumber to the house.
Teddie spotted him and came flying out the door. “Parker!” she exclaimed. “Are we doing Horses 101 today?”
He chuckled. “Nice. Yes, we are. But first I have to fix your steps.”
He put down the load of lumber and went back for another one. “Still got that fancy toolbox?” he added.
“I’ll go get it,” Teddie volunteered.
“Good girl,” he said.
She brought the toolbox while Katy went in search of the coffee can where the nails were kept. Then Parker got to work with a skill saw and a pencil over one ear.
* * *
He was methodical, but quick. In less than an hour, he had the steps replaced.
“We can’t stain them yet,” he said. “That’s treated lumber. It will last a long time, but you have to let it season before you can stain or paint it.”
“That’s fine,” Katy said.
A truck came down the road and pulled up beside Parker’s. A tall, well-built man in jeans and a denim jacket and a battered old hat came up to them.
“This is Jerry Miller,” Katy said, smiling at the newcomer, who smiled back and offered a hand.
“Hello, Parker,” he greeted.
Parker shook hands with him and smiled, too. “Nice to see you. I’m doing a few repairs.”
“Looks good. I’d have offered, but I can’t even measure, much less do woodwork,” the other man said ruefully. “All I’m good for is nursemaiding cattle.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Katy instructed. “You made us a nice nest egg with that crop of yearlings you took to auction for us. Which pays your salary, by the way.” She laughed.
He grinned, tipping his hat back over sandy hair. “And my wife’s hairdresser bills,” he added.
“Your wife looks pretty all the time,” Katy said. “And she’s sweet, which is much more important than pretty.”
“Yes, she does,” Jerry had to agree. Then he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help?” He chuckled. “Well, except for offering to cut wood, which I can’t do.”
“Not a thing. All done,” Parker said. “But we have some leftover lumber. If you’ll help me get it in the shed, it may come in handy for another job later on.”
“Good idea.”
The men moved the lumber into the building. Katy and Teddie put up the toolbox and the nails.
“So,” Parker told Teddie, “Horses 101. Let’s go.”
“Yes!” Teddie enthused and followed Parker into the barn.
Parker put a bridle on Bartholomew and led him out into the corral that adjoined the stables.
“Where do your cowboys keep their horses?” he asked.
“Oh, Jerry keeps them at his place,” Teddie said. “He and Lacy, that’s his wife, have a big stable that his father built years ago. Mom says it’s much nicer than ours, and he’s got lots of room. There are two line cabins on the place, too, and the full-time men live in them with their families. They have a stable apiece. It was a really big ranch when my grandmother was still alive.” She sighed. “They said she could outride any cowboy on the place, shoot a gun, rope a calf, even help with branding when she was in her sixties. But she broke her hip and she could never do it again. Mom says she lost heart and that’s why she died.”
“It’s hard for active people to sit still,” Parker replied. “I remember your grandmother,” he added with a smile. “She used to sell milk and butter. My mother, and later my uncle and aunt, bought them from her.”
“Your aunt and uncle, they still live on the reservation?”
He nodded his head. “Yes. They’re the only family I have, except for their son, my first cousin, who’s in the navy. He never comes home. I think he’s ashamed of us,” he added quietly.
“Why?” Teddie asked. “I mean, I think it would be awesome to be a member of a tribe and know all that ancient stuff that people used to know. It’s such a heritage!”
He chuckled, surprised, as he looked down at her. “Where did you get that from?”
“My mom,” she said. “She loves history. She had a friend who was Northern Cheyenne when she lived in Montana. They lost touch, but Mom knows a lot about native customs and stuff. She said that’s how people were meant to live, in touch with nature and not with big stone buildings and pavement.”
He pursed his lips. “That’s exactly how I feel about it.”
“Me, too. I hate the city. This”—she waved her arms around—“is the best place on Earth. Well, now that I’ve got Bartholomew, it is,” she amended. She grimaced. “I didn’t want to come here. I had a good friend where we lived, and I had to leave her. She sends me e-mails, though, and we Skype. So I sort of still have her. And I made a friend here named Edie. She has a palomino, too.”
“You have two friends here. I’m one of them,” he chided.
“Of course, you are.” She laughed.
“So. First lesson. Horses 101.”
“I’m all ears.”
He went over the various parts of the horse, from fetlocks to withers, tail to ears, and he taught her the signs to look for when she was working with Bartholomew.
“Watch his ears,” he told her. “See how he’s got one ear toward us and another swiveled behind him? He’s listening to us, but also listening for sounds that mean danger.”
“Wow.”
The horse looked back at Teddie and both ears swiveled forward.
“That means all his attention is on you,” Parker said, indicating the horse’s ears. “That’s important, when you’re training him.”
“I guess he’ll need a lot of training. Poor old thing,” she added.
The horse moved forward and lowered his head toward Teddie.
“Poor horse,” she said softly. She didn’t make eye contact, but she let the horse sniff her nostrils. He lowered his head even more, so that she could stroke him beside his nostrils.
“He likes you,” Parker said. “And he’s intelligent. Very intelligent,” he added, when the horse turned its head and looked directly at him.
He chuckled softly and put out a big hand to smooth over the horse’s mane. “Sweet