• Mel smiled to herself as she rushed through the barn chores. Summertime on a ranch in Pecos, Texas isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Getting up before daylight was not her favorite thing to do, but it was a given that most of the chores needed to be done before the brutal sun turned the whole area into an inferno of misery. The cowboys needed horses. The horses needed breakfast. Breakfast needed to be early.

    Today she had her own breakfast date and she was anxious to get to it. It had been two years since she had been attracted to anyone and she was looking forward to becoming better acquainted over a leisurely meal. Spending a chunk of time in an air conditioned restaurant was a happy bonus. Today was only a half day. She would feed the horses this morning and tonight, and in between she’d be free. If her date went well, breakfast might just extend into lunch.

    Trundling the feed cart down the aisle between the two rows of wood and metal box stalls, she registered the soft nickering of some, and the demanding wall banging of others. “Rhapsody in horse speak” she thought. She portioned out the grain according to each horse’s need. Bob the pony was ancient and never used. He was round as a beach ball as a result. He got about half a handful, while Chuck would put in a full day’s work on the ranch and got a good heavy feed. Mel added various supplements by rote as she traveled the dusty walkway, knowing what each of the 18 horses needed without having to consult with the list tacked to her feed cart. She had been the barn manager on this ranch for three years and she lived and breathed her job. She knew well every animal’s personality, body metabolism, and job on the ranch. Feeding had become a perfected science over time. As she fed she glanced through the wire covered windows in the stall doors, visually assessing each horse’s well being, noting its stance and mood.

    Mel had resolved to approach Clint once again about redoing the stalls in the barn. She hated these high walls, and she knew the horses would be much happier if they could socialize with each other in the barn. All they had were small windows in the doors to look out of. It wasn’t enough, and a reduction in the height of the walls would also promote a better airflow in the barn. The big old wood mangers that stretched the length of the front walls needed removed and replaced with modern feeders. This old barn was showing its age and its incompatibility with today’s modern horse keeping practices. Clint was amenable to redoing the barn. He just hadn’t got to it yet. When she got home from her date today she meant to push for it once again.

    After dumping the grain into each feedbox, she pulled flakes from the bales of hay stacked between the stalls, and tossed the appropriate amount of hay over the high wall into each manger. She would clean and refill the water buckets later, while the horses were quietly eating. As she watered, she would give each horse a brief but thorough going over with her eyes and hands to be sure all was well and that no injuries had happened during the night. Then she would be finished for the morning, and heading off to breakfast.
    Today the hands would muck and re-bed the stalls and restock the hay. “Not my job today, “she thought thankfully.

    At Rocco’s stall she poured the grain thru the feedbox opening, threw three flakes of hay over the wall into the manger below and moved on...and a split second later her brain registered something amiss. She spun around. Through the window in the door, she could see that the big red horse was clearly impatient for his feed, but he was standing about three feet back of the feedbox and would not walk up to it to eat. He flipped his head in an angry motion, stamped a foot and refused to go closer.
    “Damn! Must be a rattler under his manger!” Mel thought, yanking her cell phone out of its holster and speed dialing Leon, the foreman.
    Rattlers were not her forte. She happily left them to the men. The cowboys enjoyed the deadly games with the plentiful snakes that shared that part of Texas with them. They would talk for weeks afterward among themselves about the snake, the rattler growing by inches from three feet to four with each reliving of the tale. She shuddered and sent up a silent prayer that Rocco hadn’t been bitten.