Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 43870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 219(@200wpm)___ 175(@250wpm)___ 146(@300wpm)
The barn echoed with the sound of bleating goats climbing bales of hay or butting horns. I homed in on the newborn kids huddled near their watchful mama while Steve the potbellied pig lurked in the corner, half-asleep and seemingly lost.
Nelly caught my gaze from her straw bed and wordlessly beckoned me with the slightest bend of her neck. I loved animals, but goats ranked in my top three for sure. They were smart, playful, and funny enough, they were excellent communicators. And they were bossy, too.
Not that I minded. Nel and I had something like a symbiotic relationship. She’d taken a shine to me from the day she was born. She used to follow me home and wander around the kitchen, begging for food scraps. Occasionally, she’d hop onto a chair and yap away like a child riding a wicked sugar high.
These days, Nelly had bigger concerns. She was the proud new mama of twins, a boy and a girl. The kids were a week old now, and they were doing well. Thankfully, the birth had gone without a hitch. Hudson and I had handled it while Jax, Waylen, and our staff had dealt with the new herd. I probably should have helped with the cattle, but Nelly was my girl, and my partners and our team were more than qualified to welcome the new animals.
Don’t get me wrong. It had still been a fuckton of work. Each cow had to be processed, and records had to be created. It wasn’t difficult, but it was arduous and we’d needed every hand on deck. In an amusing twist, we’d recruited a few people from the winery and two waiters from the restaurant at the lodge with farming experience to help.
Yes, Oak Ridge Ranch had a winery and a lodge with spa service, elegant dining, and five-star accommodations. We were also a working dairy and agricultural farm. Pretty sweet, huh?
None of that had happened overnight. We’d more than quadrupled in size since I’d opened a tiny dairy operation with my brother, Jax, fifteen years ago—shortly after I’d graduated with a degree in agriculture and animal husbandry.
Jax and I had grown up on a thriving strawberry farm in Kern County that had been in the family for generations. Fruit had always been a Spade family tradition—harvesting, preserving, and selling it. We’d picked berries as kids and spent our spare time in high school working the fields with the hired crew in between football practice and studying for exams.
That farm was long gone now. Bad business decisions, drought, and a recession—ultimately too many hits. Dad had been forced to sell a portion of the business to stay afloat, then another portion, and another…until there was nothing left. Dad had died of a heart attack five months after the last deed was signed to the bank, and Mom had passed away two years later.
Losing our parents and a piece of our heritage had been the driving force behind Oak Ridge.
Jax and I had switched from berries to milk, and with some savvy investments had turned a small farm with three Jerseys, a field of lettuce, and a few pistachio trees into a large, diversified, and well-respected working ranch.
Our name and single oak tree logo were a nationwide symbol of quality. Oak Ridge sold produce, cow’s milk, and goat cheese throughout the country; operated a luxury dude ranch catering to wealthy clients who wanted to play cowboy for a week; and a couple of years ago, we opened the winery and began selling the Pinot Noir we’d been harvesting and bottling for over a decade.
It was a lot, and it required constant care, grit, determination, and excellent management. Jax handled finance and marketing, Waylen was dairy operations and sales, Mills headed the vacation destination program, Santiago ran the winery, and Hudson and I were in charge of the livestock. As CEO, I had my nose in everything, but we had a large, competent staff and I didn’t hesitate to delegate as needed.
However, cows, bulls, horses, pigs, chickens, and yes, goats were my daily companions. It might not be glamorous work, but I loved it. For the kid who used to sleep in cowboy boots, it was a dream come true.
Okay, so dairy farming wasn’t really a cowboy thing, but it was cowboy adjacent. Close enough for me.
See, I’d always been a fan of the cowboy mystique. A stoic tough guy on a valiant steed riding into the sunset with a cool hat, dusty boots, and a belt buckle the size of a dinner plate? Yeah, sign me up. And if they were big and a little mean-looking like the grumpy vet, even better.
Damn it!
See? I had a problem.
“Maaa.”
I chuckled at the well-timed interruption and crouched to pat Nelly’s head. “How are you this morning, sweet girl? Did your babies keep you up all night?”