Year End Summary

Word Total: 855,190

Increase Over Year Prior: -225,183

Novel Total: 10

Increase Over Year Prior: -1

Longest Novel: Run, 120,034 words, 209 pages

Shortest Novel: What Nobody Saw, 90,006 words, 162 pages

Summary of the Year:

On one hand, it feels as if this writing year has been an eternity — I barely remember writing the novels with which I began the year — but, on the other, it’s also seemed to have flown by, with neither summer nor autumn seeming to last long enough.

Nonetheless, it’s done, and I must say that I’m quite satisfied with what I accomplished, even if the word total is one of the smallest that I’ve accumulated since I’ve started keeping track.

Once again, I didn’t participate in NaNoWriMo, although I would still promote the event for people who do want to give writing a try. I must admit, though, that I think I’m not the sort of writer for whom NaNoWriMo is helpful, as I am a little rigid — even if I had the flexibility to add 15,000 additional words to my final project of the year instead of trying to shoehorn all that I wanted to have happen into the 90,000-word goal I’d set for myself — and don’t often have the desire to throw wrenches and other things into my novels, usually because I have a plot going in and to do something random or crazy would turn my characters away from my set goal for them.

Regardless, the time comes to look forward to next year, which is going to feature some new projects that I’m super excited about, particularly later on in the year, while all of my projects that are revisions of past manuscripts are actually shaping up to be major enough overhauls to seem almost like new stories — with the least-overhauled story probably being the next one up in January, which I am, nonetheless, looking forward to, as it will certainly be an improvement on its previous incarnation.

I look forward to writing again next year and hope that you’re all inclined to join me again. Until then, I hope that you all have a Merry Christmas.

R.A. Millet

Next Post: 2 January.

Here to Stay: Day 17

Word Total: 105,001

Year to Date: 855,190

Summary of Events:

James went to an auction outside of the main community just to see what was there and ended up running into a despairing Mr. Baron who reported his whole herd would have to be liquidated because they were all infected. Jake went to visit his grandpa's grave, as it was the anniversary of his death, and was startled by Mr. Hilmarsson coming to do the same; they talked about Jake's grandpa, as well as other things as Jake offered Mr. Hilmarsson a ride home on his horse. James went to visit his dad's grave as well; on returning to the yard and putting his stallion's tack away, James saw Mr. Baron's SUV pull into the yard as he headed out of the barn . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Mr. Baron was waiting for him outside of the barn, not looking nearly as downtrodden as he had less than a week before.

“What are you up to this weekend?” Mr. Baron asked.

“Why?” James asked.

“I was wondering if you could come look at some cattle with me this weekend,” Mr. Baron replied. “I want to restart my herd.”

James startled. “You’re not packing it in?”

“Nope,” Mr. Baron replied. “I’m not that weak.”

Apparently, James mused. He’d certainly not expected Mr. Baron to have the will to stay.

“And I’d like you to come help me pick a new herd,” Mr. Baron said.

“That should be your foreman’s job,” James replied. “Your foreman knows cattle, after all, he spotted that they were sick, even if he didn’t spot it soon enough to save the herd.”

“But I’d like you to come along,” Mr. Baron pressed.

“No,” James replied. “Take your foreman. You’re wasting money on his paycheque if you aren’t going to trust him to give you good advice. Didn’t you trust him when you hired him?”

Mr. Baron looked at James like he was trying to find a clause, but failing.

“Yes,” he conceded finally.

“Then it’s his job to go, not mine,” James replied. “But I will give one piece of advice.”

“Which is?” Mr. Baron asked, looking eager.

“If you don’t want your neighbours to have fits and nightmares, don’t buy red Angus,” James replied. “The much-hated Harris’ ran red Angus, and it was the job of us as their neighbours to round them up whenever they got out because the Harris’ couldn’t have cared less.”

“Oh,” Mr. Baron said, looking like the advice wasn’t what he’d expected. “Thank you.”

James gave him a nod and watched as Mr. Baron retreated into his SUV and departed, still looking rather bemused at the advice James had given him. As much as red Angus were surely fine cattle — even if less common than their black cousins — because of their association with the Harris’, James was sure it wasn’t until the second or third generation after him that they’d be welcome back in the area because all memory of the Harris’ would’ve faded completely.

Watching the SUV accelerate through the trees that sheltered the front of the yard from road dust in the summer and wind-driven snow in the winter, James sighed. He certainly hadn’t expected that Mr. Baron was going to stick around and try again after the hand he’d been dealt the first time around.

Apparently, however, Mr. Baron had enough money to play another round of this, and he was game to do it, thus, it seemed to James that, for the foreseeable future, Mr. Baron was staying, and if his second hand proved better than his first, it was entirely possible that he might stay until he retired, but James didn’t expect either of Mr. Baron’s kids to be keen on taking up the ranch after him — but who knew? He’d been wrong about Mr. Baron, maybe he was wrong about them too.

Next Post: 30 November

Here to Stay: Day 16

Word Count: 97,571

Summary of Events:

James came to the house and discovered that his mother had heard nothing from Jake, despite her efforts to contact him, and ended up discovering that Jake was at Mr. Hilmarsson's. Mr. Hilmarsson told Jake that it was 16:05 — and Jake was supposed to be home by 16:15 to help make supper — which surprised Jake, and left him disappointed, as he didn't want to leave, but Mr. Hilmarsson said he was welcome back whenever he wanted. James came in the house for supper and found Mr. Baron had come to talk to him; although reluctant, James acquiesced and learned — to no surprise — that Mr. Baron's cattle had tested positive for BTB, and that Mr. Baron wanted to know what BTB was, which also required James explaining what a ruminant was, as all ruminants were susceptible to the disease . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“There are numerous wild ruminants in the area, such as bighorn sheep, mountain goats, deer, and elk,” James said. “So I hope your cattle haven’t become socially acquainted with them, otherwise BTB isn’t going to be eradicated and you’re going to be hated by everyone around here for having introduced it, as it’s hard to detect and eradicate in animals not constrained by fences.”

“What about my horses?” Mr. Baron asked.

“Horses are not ruminants,” James replied. “Thus this disease shouldn’t have any effect on them.”

James couldn’t deny, however, that he wouldn’t be upset if it did, as that would mean that Mr. Baron would be forced to get new horses whether he wanted to or not.

“And, um, how is BTB treated?” Mr. Baron asked.

“By about fifteen grams of copper and lead propelled by up to four and a half grams of gunpowder,” James replied.

“Gunpowder?” Mr. Baron asked. “That’s medicinal?”

“It was often used that way,” James replied. “It’s probably more likely the infected animals these days are going to get a lethal injection, but shooting them is also an option.”

“They’re going to get killed?” Mr. Baron asked. 

“Yes,” James replied. “And the rest of the animals will be quarantined until the government tells you otherwise.”

“Why does the government have to tell me?” Mr. Baron asked.

The question caught James by surprise, but then he reminded himself that Mr. Baron knew nothing, which made it no surprise at all.

“BTB is a federally reportable disease,” James replied. “This is because it is both very contagious, and because of the fact that those animals which are infected by it are unfit for consumption, thus the government needs to know when animals have it so that they don’t get shipped off to be made into hamburgers and steaks and lead to losses of money and reputation for you, the beef industry, and Canada itself. The government will carry out the slaughter, as well as reimbursing you according to the market value of beef.”

“Oh,” Mr. Baron said. “Well that’s good to know. Thanks for your help.”

James gave a single nod, before he opened the door and let Mr. Baron lead the way out of the office to the front entry.

“We’ll get that one cow dealt with,” Mr. Baron said once he had his boots on. “And then it’ll all be right as rain again. See you around.”

Feeling a little bemused, James stared at the door that now separated him from Mr. Baron for a long moment. Just one cow?

Over the weeks since he’d noticed that first cow, James had seen signs of symptoms in more than a few other animals, he was pretty sure it was more than one animal, if not even potentially the entire herd, that would need to be slaughtered.

Here to Stay: Day 15

 Word Count: 90,018

Summary of Events:

Jake was approached by his grandma as he raided the raspberries and assured that he was cared for by his whole family — not that Jake believed his dad cared for him. James called the veterinarian with his question and learned that the test results were supposed to have been mailed to him, with the veterinarian assuring him that they would be found and sent with much apology. Jake went to apologise to Mr. Hilmarsson for what he'd done the night before and was offered the chance to shoot some pigeons by Mr. Hilmarsson before they settled down to have lemony iced tea on the veranda and Jake gave his apology, which Mr. Hilmarsson appreciated, before they settled into chatting . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“So?” Mr. Hilmarsson asked. “How about the Barons?”

“Right,” Jake replied, remembering that Mr. Hilmarsson had requested information before talking about iced tea and cookies. “They only showed up at the end of June, Mr. Baron came from Calgary, but I think he lived in Toronto or the States before, because that’s where his kids came from to join him.”

“Hm,” Mr. Hilmarsson said.

“Regardless, none of them know anything about horses or cattle, even though they’ve all had about five years of riding education each,” Jake added. “But as I understand it those were only weekly lessons, and yet Mr. Baron figured that he and Keanu should get stallions to ride.”

“That is downright dumb,” Mr. Hilmarsson said.

“I tried to tell Keanu he knew nothing, but Keanu’s so dumb a horse that isn’t a stallion could kill him,” Jake said. “And Mr. Baron wouldn’t listen to Dad or anyone else — which was everyone — who told him buying stallions for himself and Keanu was dumb either.”

“That’s a downhill story,” Mr. Hilmarsson said.

“Mr. Baron wanted Dad to look at the horses once they arrived and Dad had to use Mr. Baron’s foreman’s gelding to separate them because the stallions were in a fight over the mare, whom they’d been put with, and was in heat,” Jake continued.

“I’ll bet James had a few words to say to him about that,” Mr. Hilmarsson said.

“It was the most I’ve ever heard Dad talk in that chunk of time,” Jake replied. “He didn’t even let Mr. Baron get any words in edgewise as it went on.”

“Better his words than his fists,” Mr. Hilmarsson said. “I would’ve pummelled that idiot to a pulp myself, or thrown him in with his stallions to see if he could survive.”

“Apparently he presumed nobody except Dad knew anything about stallions because nobody else owned one,” Jake said. “Dad lit it into him for that too.”

“I figured that had to be why James kept that mustang colt on this side of the river,” Mr. Hilmarsson replied. “Does he have a name?”

“I think Dad’s given him one,” Jake replied. “But I don’t know what it is. Everyone just calls him the Colt.”

“Not much of a colt any more,” Mr. Hilmarsson said.

Jake nodded.

“Am I correct to guess there is no Mrs. Baron?” Mr. Hilmarsson asked.

“Not to my knowledge, no,” Jake replied. “There’s just Mr. Baron, Keanu, and his twin sister Keana.”

“Keana?” Mr. Hilmarsson asked.

“It’s like Keanu, just you trade the U for an A,” Jake replied.

“Talk about creative,” Mr. Hilmarsson said, having the same sort of dry sarcasm to his comment as Dad would use.

“Yeah,” Jake agreed.

Here to Stay: Day 14

Word Count: 84,012

Summary of Events:

James was struck by the realisation that he'd heard nothing more about the possibility of Bovine Tuberculosis in Mr. Baron's herd, although a check of them from a distance suggested that they were doing worse than they'd been nearly two months before. Jake got up at 23:30 Friday night to make sure Keanu did as he was dared, and was delighted when Keanu was frightened by the still-living Mr. Hilmarsson, although Mr. Hilmarsson somehow found Jake when he'd thought he was well-hidden in the bush. James had been called by Mr. Baron when Keanu returned home and fetched Jake from Mr. Hilmarsson's before chastising Jake for his insensitivity the following morning and ordering him to apologise to Mr. Hilmarsson by the end of the day.

Excerpt of the Day:

“What happened last night?” Mom asked, startling James slightly. “And what have you said to Jacob about it?”

“As far as I understand, Jacob and Keanu Baron went ghost hunting on Arv’s property and were shot at,” James replied. “And I’m certain that Jacob was fully aware of just what day yesterday was when the enterprise was arranged. He has absolutely no empathy for people who have suffered some of the cruellest things life could hand out.”
“How is Jacob supposed to show empathy when he’s never experienced it?” Mom asked.

James felt affronted, attacked even. “Just when has Jacob ever needed empathy shown to him? He’s too busy making trouble to be suffering.”

Mom shook her head like she was disappointed in him. “From what I recall of the Canada Day barbecue Keanu was harassing Jacob, and he reported Keanu’s having harassed him before, and it’s even possible that Jacob’s been harassed since.”

“And I’m supposed to show empathy when I don’t even know what’s going on?” James demanded.

“Do you ask?” Mom asked. “Maybe that’s why you don’t know what’s going on. Nor, in addition, have you conducted yourself in a way as to suggest to Jacob that you’re available for him to talk to. You don’t listen to him like you listen to Nathaniel, nor do you treat him like you treat Nathaniel. You’re so heavy-handed with Jacob.”

“Comparing the two of them is like comparing a horse to a cow!” James spat. “They’re completely different people.”

“Notwithstanding their divergent personalities, they are both your children,” Mom returned firmly. “Thus you should, at the very least, love them the same, including disciplining them with love, just as you were disciplined by your own father.”

“Dad was better at stuff like that because he wasn’t having to be a mother to his children as well as a father,” James retorted.

Mom sighed, looking and sounding frustrated as she raised her hands up toward her face, but didn’t touch it before looking up at James. “Why can’t you consider anything Samuel did as something to do to and with your own sons despite the fact that you are a widower and he wasn’t? Why?”

James opened his mouth to retort, but Mom wasn’t finished.

“Why can’t you see Jacob not as Bethany’s killer, but as the last fruit of her love for you?” Mom asked.

Mom couldn’t have caused more pain if she’d stabbed him with a white-hot sword.

“I see him that way all too clearly!” he snapped. “And that is a key reason why I am so frustrated with him!”

There looked to be a bit of alarm on Mom’s face, but firmness returned in moments.

“Fruit needs to be cultivated carefully James,” she said, looking him in the eye. “Otherwise it could change from being something beneficial to something harmful. From something that can comfort and heal, to something that only causes more pain and suffering.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, Mom turned and left the room.

Here to Stay: Day 13

 Word Count: 78,022

Summary of Events:

James' cousin from eastern Alberta arrived with his annual delivery of winter hay for the cattle and horses that James had ordered earlier, which James helped unload before his father and stepmother-in-law came to visit for a weekend. Jake, having failed to drive Keanu away by ignoring him, decided to distract Keanu and maybe scare him away for good by telling him that the last yard to the west was haunted . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Well, but what does the ghost look like?” Keanu asked.

“The last owner of the house,” Jake replied.

“And who was that?” Keanu asked.

“Arvid Hilmarsson,” Jake replied. “He died alone because his son was murdered and his wife suffocated.”

“Oh,” Keanu said.

“Nobody goes near the place because they’re scared they might see the ghost,” Jake said.

“Well I’m not afraid of ghosts,” Keanu said arrogantly, wagging his head.

Jake smirked, based on the unsettledness he’d seen moments before, Jake had his doubts Keanu was telling the truth.

“Really?” Jake asked.

“Yes!” Keanu snapped. “Why would you doubt me?”

“I have no reason to believe you,” Jake replied. “I’ve never seen you in the presence of a ghost before. Seeing is believing. Show me you’re not afraid of ghosts and I’ll believe you.”

“I will,” Keanu declared forcefully.

Jake turned his gaze back toward the horses, hoping that Keanu was going to stalk away and do just that, but unfortunately his ears gave him no such hope, for he heard no rustle of feet stalking away from him.

“Well?” Jake asked, looking over his shoulder at Keanu again.

“Well what?” Keanu asked.

“Why haven’t you gone to prove to me you’re not afraid of ghosts yet?” Jake asked.

“I’m not going to do it today,” Keanu replied indignantly. “What ghost appears in the daytime? I’d do it at night.”

“When?” Jake asked.

“Well . . . um . . . ah . . . nyah . . .” Keanu floundered. “When the night’s good and creepy.”

“Hopefully such a night comes before Halloween,” Jake said. “In fact, that night should come before school starts or a rumour might start circulating that you’re afraid of ghosts, besides, you have a better chance of seeing a ghost on Friday night.”

“Why?” Keanu asked, sounding highly annoyed. 

“Because Friday’s the anniversary of one of the deaths,” Jake replied. “So all the ghosts might rise on a night like that.”

These words certainly seemed to make Keanu squirm uncomfortably, but Jake was pretty sure Keanu didn’t realise that Jake could see the anxious, squeamish squirms out of his peripheral vision.

“Well that’s just the sort of night I was thinking of,” Keanu replied, puffing out his chest and looking arrogantly at Jake.

“What time?” Jake asked.

A glare flashed into Keanu’s eyes and he looked away from Jake for a long moment during which Jake saw signs of an underlying anxiety before finally he looked back at Jake with smug resolution.

“Midnight,” he declared.

“Alright,” Jake said. “I’ll be there.”

“What do you need to be there for?” Keanu demanded.

“To watch,” Jake replied. “To see that you’re not really afraid of ghosts.”

This didn’t look to please Keanu at all, which Jake was glad of, as he was sure the entertainment value of Friday night was going to be a good return on investment as a result.

“I’ll see you Friday,” Jake said, moving around and dropping down off the rail, careful of his wrist — which he was grateful he’d be getting the cast off of shortly — before striding off toward the yard.

Here to Stay: Day 12

Word Count: 72,008

Summary of Events:

James went to get his hair cut once Nathaniel had gotten his done, as Jake was still getting x-rayed, which revealed that he'd broken his wrist right where he'd fractured it before — and that was a key reason why he'd broken it — but it was still only a minor break. Jake, being hampered by his one-handed state, was standing outside watching the horses graze when Keanu approached him and they got into another roundabout argument that led to Jake challenging Keanu to hoist himself up onto the fence without hardly using his upper body to prove he had leg strength despite the skinniness of his legs . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Keanu reached up with his right leg and they both heard a tear.

Jake smiled and snickered. “Reason number two why skinny pants are impractical.”

“You did that on purpose!” Keanu shouted. “These are some of my best jeans and you wanted me to ruin them! You’re a jerk!”

To Jake’s surprise, however, Keanu hauled himself up to sit on the top rail, pulling himself up with his hands.

“You did it wrong,” Jake said. “You’re not supposed to use your upper body to haul yourself up. You’re supposed to use your legs.”

“I used them,” Keanu snapped.

“Barely,” Jake replied. “Certainly not enough to have proven them stronger than mine.”

“A better test of our leg strength would be a race,” Keanu replied.

Jake slid down from the fence rail easily. “To the far property line and back.”

“You’re on,” Keanu replied, although Jake noted that he got down gingerly, and saw that the tear was right along the inseam of the right leg.

“We’ll start from this post,” Jake said, touching the fencepost that had been behind him for most of their conversation.

Keanu nodded and stood beside Jake.

“On your mark,” Jake said.

“No, I get to say it,” Keanu replied.

“How about we say it together?” Jake suggested.

“No, I’m saying it,” Keanu insisted.

“Fine,” Jake said, lowering into a bit of a squat, ready to take off.

“On your mark get set go!” Keanu cried, saying it all so fast it was practically one mega word.

Jake had suspected Keanu would do something like that, and was ready for it, surging forward and passing Keanu in two strides — which Jake attributed to his takeoff position as he’d been taught in gym class, and his longer legs.

Surging across the grass, Jake focused on a distant tree and ran directly for it, not looking back to see where Keanu might be.

His sides hurt a little bit by the time he reached the tree, but he turned around and surged back, discovering that Keanu was running rather tiredly over 10m behind him.

Nonetheless, Jake didn’t hesitate, but ran at top speed all the way back to the fencepost, where he dropped to his knees, his sides heaving, with a small stitch bothering him.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Keanu was staggering back toward him and looking very tired.

“That doesn’t look like running,” Jake called.

“I’m gonna die,” Keanu replied.

“Well so long as you can die on your own land would be great,” Jake replied, pointing toward the nearer property line as indicated by the trees.

“You’re such a wimp,” Keanu said, panting heavily and looking like it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

Jake, feeling refreshed from having waited, rose to his feet and looked at Keanu.

“You are so dumb,” he said.

Shaking his head, he walked — grateful not to be running, as he had to admit he should’ve chosen the nearer property line and back for the run — away from Keanu and toward the yard. There was no reasoning with Keanu about anything, and he was done trying.

Here to Stay: Day 11

Word Count: 66,018

Summary of Events:

James drove slowly past Mr. Baron's on his way to town to see how the stallions were faring, and was glad to see they were still separated, and seemed much calmer, even if they were still covered in bandages. Jake was doing a routine grooming of the horses out at the pasture when Keanu showed up and started arguing with Jake about quite a variety of things, including how Keanu believed that all the names of the Clearwater horses were just as ugly as their colours, while his stallion's name was a handsome one . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Well Blackberry, Mischief, Mayberry, Misty, Sugar, and Gingersnap aren’t exactly geldings,” Jake replied.

“But those aren’t beautiful names either,” Keanu replied.

“Why not?” Jake asked.

“They have no relation to the horses’ colours,” Keanu replied.

“Gingersnap is the gold horse,” Jake said.

“Gingersnaps aren’t gold,” Keanu replied.

“They can be nearly there,” Jake replied.

“Only lame gingersnaps,” Keanu replied.

“All gingersnaps outside of Grandma’s are lame,” Jake replied. “And I know you’ve never had Grandma’s, so you only know lame gingersnaps, but Grandma’s gingersnaps are almost the colour of Gingersnap.”

“Then obviously your grandma’s gingersnaps are lame,” Keanu retorted.

“My grandma’s gingersnaps, as I said, are the best,” Jake replied.

“Gingersnaps, as a whole, are lame,” Keanu replied.

“Why?” Jake demanded.

“Because they’re plain,” Keanu replied. “They don’t have icing or sprinkles.”

“The best cookies don’t,” Jake replied. “Unless you’re talking about Gramma’s maple pecan shortbread cookies. Those are the best cookies with icing.”

Keanu made a face. “Maple is gross.”

“You’re gross,” Jake replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keanu demanded.

“Jacob, Jacob, over.”

Jake startled and went over to where the radio sat in the crate of grooming tools.

“Yes Grandma?” he radioed.

“Where are you?” Grandma asked. “You’re supposed to leave for your haircut in five minutes.”

“I’m on my way,” Jake replied.

“What kind of ancient tech is that?” Keanu demanded.

“It’s a multi-channel two-way radio,” Jake replied. “We use them to communicate around the yard because they’re faster to call out for help in an emergency with.”
“Faster than what?” Keanu demanded.

“A cellphone,” Jake replied, removing Bandit’s halter and tossing it into the crate.

“Where are you going?” Keanu asked.

“I have places I need to be,” Jake replied.

He climbed over the fence, drew the crate out underneath, and took off for the yard at a run, as he needed to change out of his work clothes yet.

“There you are,” Arden said as Jake careened around the corner of the barn.

“Put this away please,” Jake replied, shoving the crate in Arden’s hands before carrying on to the house.

He fought to get his boots off and bolted through the kitchen before leaping over the railing and hurrying up the stairs, untucking his shirt and pulling it open as he ran.

In his room he fairly leapt into his town clothes before racing down the stairs, only to trip and fall forward. He landed on his right wrist hard, which sent a piercing jolt of pain through his whole right arm.

“Jacob!” Grandma cried. “Sweetheart, are you alright?”

Jake clutched his wrist. He wanted to say he was fine, but he was certain he was going to start crying, and that was something he didn’t want to do.

He heard Grandma’s footsteps hurry away before her voice carried through the house faintly.

“James! James! Jacob has hurt himself!”

The pain was worse than it’d been when Mischief had pulled him off-balance, but Jake fought to sit up and blink the tears of pain from his eyes before Dad could arrive.

Here to Stay: Day 10

 Word Count: 60,115

Summary of Events:

James observed his stallion to be quite agitated late in the afternoon, regularly looking to the east and whinnying shrilly. When Jake came and told him that Mr. Baron's horses had arrived and Mr. Baron wanted James to stop by and take a look at them at his earliest convenience, James wondered if the new mare next door was the cause. Having a bit of free time before supper, James decided to go check them out and found the three palominos penned together with the two stallions in a bloody fight over the mare, whom James observed was in heat. He took Mr. Coombs' horse — a gelding who was pastured separately — and separated the stallions into different pastures from each other and the mare because neither Mr. Baron nor Mr. Coombs had known what to do . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I can’t thank you enough,” Mr. Baron said. “I really can’t. Just what happened? I’ve never seen horses fight like that before.”

Removing his hat, James ran his fingers through his slightly sweat-dampened hair before setting it back in place.

“You have already been told by more than one person,” James replied emphatically, laying his frustration bare. “That horses are not like humans. They are animals! Thus, like any other animal, they are instinctive, and are out to make or have offspring of their kind — and in the case of the males, their line, more importantly — so that it will continue. As a result, putting two or more stallions together at all is a dangerous enterprise, and putting them with a mare — especially one that is in heat, as she is — is twice as bad, or worse.”

Mr. Baron looked a little frightened by James’ outburst, and his tone was timid when he spoke. “Um, what does being in heat mean?”

James shook his head. “I knew that was what you were going to say next.”

This startled Mr. Baron, but James didn’t let him ask how.

“Being in heat is, I guess, the veterinary term for ovulation,” James explained. “In other words, she is in prime condition to conceive a foal, and I doubt you have any idea what to do with one of those.”

Mr. Baron gave a small, timid shake of his head.

“That is why my stallion got so excited when you came to invite us to the barbecue,” James continued. “One of my mares was ovulating, so he wanted to get it on with her, for lack of a better term, and I think he can even tell your mare is in heat from where he is right now because he’s been pacing the fence and looking east for some time.”

“Really?” Mr. Baron asked.

“A stallion can tell when a mare is in heat from a distance up to or exceeding one point six kilometres,” James replied. “Your stallions didn’t need to be put in with her to know she was in that state, or to be disposed toward duking it out for the privilege to engage with her, but your doing so was only asking for what you got.”

Mr. Baron looked even more dismayed. “You mean I have to keep all my horses separated into different pastures?”

“Aside from her and Mr. Coombs’ horse — as he’s a gelding, thus he couldn’t make her pregnant even if he tried — yes,” James replied. “Yes you do.”

“Where am I supposed to put them all to keep them apart?” Mr. Baron asked, looking distressed.

“Where they are is fine, so long as they don’t know how to jump fences,” James replied. “And so long as the stallions never share a fence with the mare, as stallions have been known to impregnate mares through fences before.”

Mr. Baron looked a little shocked at that statement, but James believed it even though he’d never seen it, because fences had gaps more than large enough for it to happen, and he’d seen what was supposed to be a weanling nursing from its mother through a mutual fence before too.

Here to Stay: Day 9

 Word Count: 54,006

Summary of Events:

James was heading into the house when Seldon Ingham arrived to return some books his wife had borrowed from James' mom, and reported that after the Williamses had left the barbecue Mr. Ellerington had gotten mad at Mr. Baron for buying inferior palominos — also disclosing that Mr. Baron had bought stallions for both himself and his son, which appalled James. Jake and his grandma were in Rocky Mountain House running some errands — with Jake along to practise his driving — when they came out of the bank and Jake recognised Mr. Baron's vehicle in the parking lot of a nearby fast-food restaurant . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Hey, neighbours!” Mr. Baron called.

Jake stopped only because Grandma did, and he saw she had the same degree of reluctance in looking toward Mr. Baron as Jake himself did.

Mr. Baron closed the driver’s door of his SUV and walked toward them, Keanu trailing after, while Keana lingered by the SUV, looking a little bemused.

“It’s a handy thing to run into you,” Mr. Baron said. “I was wanting to stop by and let Jim know that my horses have finally arrived.”

Jake furrowed his brow, rather confounded. Jim? Who was Jim?

“I would like it if he could come by sometime soon, but, whenever he’s available, to have a look at them,” Mr. Baron said. “If you could pass that on to Jim would be great.”

Grandma nodded. “I will.”

She sounded tense and curt, which was rather unlike her at most times, as she usually had the ability to at least convincingly feign friendliness to people in situations where Jake simply couldn’t.

“Well, we’ll see you around,” Mr. Baron said.

He turned and left, while Keanu — who’d been smugly smirking the whole time, with his gaze pointedly fixed on Jake — turned and followed after him after puffing out his chest somewhat haughtily.

It was only once they’d disappeared behind an adjacent vehicle that Grandma turned so suddenly Jake wasn’t expecting it and ended up getting run into by her.
“I’m sorry Jacob,” Grandma said.

She also didn’t usually call him Jacob unless she was upset. Dad was the one who called him Jacob the most out of anyone, but even he didn’t do it 100% of the time.

Jake trailed after Grandma, who rather stalked toward the truck and climbed inside, slamming the door hard before sighing heavily.

“What’s the matter Grandma?” Jake asked, somewhat cautiously climbing into the driver’s seat, as the only time he ever remembered Grandma getting angry had been a frightening experience.

“As much as I can understand where and how such a byname is derived despite its incredible dissimilarity to the origin name, “ Grandma said. “I did not name my son Jim.”

“You mean he was wanting you to tell Dad?” Jake asked.

“Yes,” Grandma replied.

“I didn’t know who he was talking about,” Jake said.

“My father has always detested Jim and not let himself be called by it, and I made it abundantly clear to those who didn’t know my father’s detestation of the name that my son was not to be called by it any more than his grandfather,” Grandma said. “And everyone, even the newcomers, have respected and accepted that. I have no idea where Mr. Baron got the idea that it was acceptable to abbreviate my son’s name in that fashion, and especially from your father.”

Here to Stay: Day 8

Word Count: 48,116

Summary of Events:

Later on at the barbecue Jake was able to witness Keanu Baron meeting Wells Ellerington, which he feared because they were both rich, spoiled, and didn't really like him, thus he worried they would find common ground to gang up on him; but to his surprise, the two of them got into an argument almost immediately. A few days later it was the 127th birthday of one of James' great-grandfather's brothers, so he went to the family cemetery to visit his great-great uncle's grave; his visit was curtailed by the appearance of a mustang stallion who upset his stallion, forcing James to scare the mustang off with a bullet from his rifle before the two got into a bloody fight. Jake was dozing on his hammock when the barking of the family's oldest dog woke him, revealing to him that the veterinarian had come to call . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Pierce, having heard Musti’s bass bark, appeared from the barn and greeted Dr. Dutchak, while Jake, feeling incredibly curious — as he’d heard nothing in the morning meeting recap over breakfast about a visit from Dr. Dutchak — sat up on his hammock and hung his legs over the side so that he could slide his boots back on and head over to see what they were up to.

He gave Musti a parting scratch on the head as Musti rose to his feet with a groan, not likely to follow Jake, but to go back to the house and collapse heavily on the veranda.

Pierce and Dr. Dutchak headed into the barn before Jake reached them, so he stood outside the barn to listen.

“We agreed that since there are two particularly large operations in this area who actually both adjoin the property in question to some measure, that we should take some precautionary measures, particularly with those herds,” Dr. Dutchak was saying. “After all, it is a serious thing to have in a herd, and it could even help us to determine where it may’ve come from, as old cattle are more disposed to manifesting it, but it can be dormant for years.”

“It is fairly rare, though,” Pierce said.

“It is, thankfully,” Dr. Dutchak said.

“I understand, though, that it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Pierce agreed. “The main question is, would you be able to carry all you need on a horse? Or are you just going to drive up?”

The sound of fast-moving hooves distracted Jake from Dr. Dutchak’s reply and he turned to see Dad riding in on the Colt, who looked a little agitated, while Dad looked rather calm, but didn’t dismount as he looked at Jake.

Since his gaze had an expectancy in it, Jake walked forward.

“Have they gone up or are they still here?” Dad asked.

“They’re here,” Jake replied, indicating over his shoulder with his thumb.

Dad nodded. “Here.”

He reached to his hip and tossed glinting brass to Jake, who caught it and found a spent cartridge in his hand.

“What did you shoot?” Jake asked.

“Nothing,” Dad replied.

“Then why did you shoot?” Jake asked.

“Because I had to,” Dad replied. “Go get Cloverlawn ready.”
“Why?” Jake asked.

“We’re going up to test the cattle,” Dad replied.

“For what?” Jake asked.

“BTB,” Dad replied.

Jake felt a little startled. He’d heard of BTB a little bit, he knew it led to ranches getting quarantined and whatnot, but he was pretty sure that they’d never had it at their ranch.

He was going to ask Dad why when he remembered what he’d just eavesdropped from Pierce and Dr. Dutchak, it was a neighbouring place that had BTB, and they were just checking to see that it wasn’t here too.

Pronunciations:

Musti: moosstee

Dutchak: duhchick

Here to Stay: Day 7

 Word Count: 42,058

Summary of Events:

Jake accompanied his family to the still-unnamed ranch next door for the Canada Day barbecue, where Mr. Baron gave them a tour of his large and very grey house before Jake was introduced to Mr. Baron's twin children, Keanu and Keana, the former of whom was the kid Jake had argued with about horses nearly two weeks before. Later that afternoon, James was tired of chatting with people, so he wandered away to look at Mr. Baron's Herefords . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Looking beyond the bull, James surveyed the rest of the herd and spied an odd-looking cow. She looked odd because she looked like a dairy cow, having next to no meat on her, and even having her ribs showing and hips protruding, except just behind her cheek and jaw, where there looked to be an odd bulge.

James wished he had binoculars, or even a camera, with him so he could see closer, but based on her angle and the shadow the sun was casting, James guessed it was her parotid lymph node that was swollen — if not, it was probably her retropharyngeal one, because it was at the wrong place to be her submandibular, which was the only other one in the area.

“What’re you looking at?”

Having — unusually — not heard anyone approaching, James startled violently enough to startle some of the nearer cattle. He turned to see Mr. Baron’s foreman, introduced to him as Angus Coombs from a ranch in Montana earlier in the afternoon.

“That cow,” James said, pointing. “The skinny one. She’s got a swollen lymph node, you may want to get her checked out.”

“She’s just an old cow,” Mr. Coombs replied. “One of too many in this herd.”

“Which is even more reason why you should check it out,” James replied. “As you ought to know if you have any experience with cattle.”

“And just why is a young kid like you questioning my experience with cattle?” Mr. Coombs demanded. “Trying to flash around a college degree?”

“I never went there,” James replied. “But my son’ll be going at the end of the summer.”

Mr. Coombs startled. “Did he fast-track?”

“No,” James replied. “He’ll be eighteen in October.”

“You’re old enough to have a kid that old?” Mr. Coombs asked.

“Yes,” James replied.

“Well you sure don’t look it,” Mr. Coombs said. “Nonetheless, it’s not like the pasture’s even overstocked because the cattle were here before I showed up.”

“I wonder how well that went,” James said.

“I don’t know that I want to know,” Mr. Coombs muttered.

James didn’t either. “Notwithstanding, your flippancy makes me question your experience, seeing how your paycheque happens to depend on the health and wellbeing of the cattle being at its best, particularly considering that I know how much your employer knows about cattle.”

“He actually knows about cattle?” Mr. Coombs asked.

“Exactly,” James replied.

“Why does one old cow’s dying matter?” Mr. Coombs asked. “This entire herd is one of the worst groups of animals I’ve ever seen, but whoever sold them to him knew he didn’t know that, because he paid twice as much as he should’ve for them.”

“She hasn’t eaten a bite as I’ve been watching her,” James said. “She looks like it’s all she can do to stay standing, and if I were to get up close I would probably find her to have a fever, on top of the swollen lymph nodes, all of which are symptoms of bovine tuberculosis, which I don’t want to see in my neighbour’s herd, as that means that it could infect my herd, the herds of my other neighbours, and even the local wildlife population, which would be the worst thing of all.”

Here to Stay: Day 6

 Word Count: 36,032

Summary of Events:

Jake went out for a ride on his gelding and ended up encountering a wild stallion — or, at least, Jake was convinced they did, but the encounter was quite surreal, and he couldn't find any proof it'd happened after the stallion had disappeared. James had arrived back at the yard for lunch when Mr. Baron arrived to invite everyone to a Canada Day barbecue in a couple Saturdays' time; before he could leave, James' stallion got excited when one of James' mares, who happened to be in heat, walked past him . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“What is wrong with that horse?” Mr. Baron asked.

Turning, James looked at Mr. Baron. “He’s a stallion, and the painted chestnut over there is in heat.”

“I didn’t know you had a stallion,” Mr. Baron replied.

“I didn’t mean to keep him,” James replied.

“Where’d he come from?” Mr. Baron asked.

“My old mare found him days old and starving beside the carcass of his mother,” James replied. “She’d just lost her foal, and he happened to be the relief she needed, and I couldn’t leave him to die either, so we brought him back here.”

“You found him somewhere out there?” Mr. Baron asked, gesturing vaguely westwards.

“Yes,” James replied.

“So is he a mustang then?” Mr. Baron asked.

“Yes,” James replied.

“Oh, I guess that explains it,” Mr. Baron said.

“Explains what?” James asked, caught off-guard.

“His lack of restraint in the presence of, as it were, beautiful women,” Mr. Baron replied. “My stallion won’t behave like that because he’s come from a long line of horses that have been owned by men.”

“You bought a stallion?” James asked, too shocked to hold his tongue.

“Of course,” Mr. Baron replied. “What cowboy doesn’t ride a stallion?”

“How long have you been riding?” James asked.

“About two years to this point,” Mr. Baron replied. “Plus the five years I did because my parents made me. I wish I’d never decided it was uncool and made them let me stop.”

James put his hands over his face. If God was real why had He allowed such a stupid person to be born?

“Is something wrong?” Mr. Baron asked.

Sliding his hands off his eyes, James drew them over just his nose and mouth for a moment before withdrawing them entirely while inhaling enough oxygen for a heavy sigh.

“That behaviour is not abnormal for a stallion, or a result of the fact that his sire was a horse who never brooked a man’s will. That is, in fact, how all stallions behave in the presence of a mare who is ready and able to conceive — regardless of her willingness.”

The Colt whinnied again before pawing the ground in dramatic frustration.

“Furthermore,” James continued. “Seven years of riding experience is not enough — not near enough — time for a man to know how to ride a stallion, especially if that education is casual and not intensive. Even I didn’t ride a stallion until I had accumulated over twenty years of regular and intensive horse riding education and experience.”

James snapped his head over his shoulder at the sound of a strike against wood and saw that the Colt had merely hit a rail while pawing and, thankfully, hadn’t thrown himself bodily at all the rails.

He looked back at Mr. Baron. “I would highly recommend that you find a way to cancel your purchase before your stallion arrives.”

Mr. Baron looked like he wanted to ask why, but James strode away before he could speak, as he’d already told Mr. Baron why, and he had no intentions of repeating himself.