Riding High. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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for a batch of cookie dough. He’d never expected to have fun preparing a meal for pigs. Once again his happiness meter registered somewhere near the top of the scale.
He threw a handful of carrot chunks into the bowl. “I thought they ate kitchen scraps.”
“Most people think so, but they won’t get a balanced diet that way.” Lily chopped with rhythmic precision as she talked. “I found all kinds of information online, and everyone says to feed vegetables loaded with vitamins if you want a happy, healthy pig. And you’re not supposed to overfeed them or they’ll get fat. Harley looks a little overweight to me. What do you think?”
“I didn’t spend any time studying pigs, so I’m no expert.” Regan started in on a head of cabbage. “But he’s definitely chunkier than Wilbur.”
“And from what I’ve researched, Wilbur’s about right. I’ll have to make sure Harley doesn’t try to steal any of Wilbur’s food.”
Regan finished with the cabbage and moved on to a sack of potatoes. “What if someone wants to adopt these guys? How will you know they’ll feed them right?”
“Excellent question. I’ve thought about it a lot today. I’ve considered having the adopters sign an agreement that they’ll follow the guidelines I give them and read the information on keeping pigs as pets. But what if they don’t? How will I know?”
“You won’t, which is why they might need to provide references.”
“I think so, too. That’s still no guarantee, because they can give me names of people who will say whatever they’re supposed to, but it makes the process more complicated. People who want to adopt a pig on impulse won’t want to go through all that.”
Regan picked up a bunch of golden beets. “At least these are adult pigs, so nobody can kid themselves about the amount of room they’ll need.”
“I’ve toyed with the idea of a home visit before I let the pig go.”
“It will take lots of extra time to do that.”
“I know.” Lily topped off her bowl with some bib lettuce. “But after you filled me in about Harley’s deal, where his mud hole was competing for space with folks enjoying a backyard barbecue, I think viewing the future living space would be good. The requirements for the pig have to come first.”
“Because pigs can’t speak for themselves.”
“Exactly!” She turned to beam at him. “Most of those who bring me horses, pigs or chickens are ready to dump an inconvenient nuisance. They’ve never thought about how they play havoc with the lives of creatures who can’t speak for themselves. Or how they’ve contributed to the problem, which I’ve certainly been guilty of with the horses. I’m determined to fix that.”
Regan laid down his knife and turned toward her. “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” She glanced up at him. “You’ve been nothing but helpful and kind.”
“Not really. I’ve implied that you don’t know what you’re doing, but at your core, you know exactly what you’re doing. You respect the rights of creatures who can’t speak our language. They may have their own language, but they can’t speak ours—and many of us marginalize them. You don’t, and that’s...that’s wonderful.” He had the strongest urge to kiss her, which would be so inappropriate. Coming on the heels of his little speech, it would seem opportunistic.
“Wow. Thank you.” She seemed taken aback. “Lately I’ve been thinking I don’t belong in this place.”
“Don’t ever think that.” He’d watch how he worded his suggestions from now on, because he didn’t want to discourage her from sticking it out. This morning he’d figured she might leave as soon as she grew bored, an assumption based on how his parents might react in this situation. But listening to her now, he wasn’t sure about that.
“I can’t help it, Regan. I wasn’t qualified to take over, although I didn’t have sense enough to know it at the time. But there was no one else, which helped me make up my mind. Now that I realize what I’m up against, I should probably advertise for someone more experienced to buy it and run it.”
Damn. In trying to make a point, he’d been too hard on her. “I hope you don’t do that. If I’ve made you insecure about being here, I’m deeply sorry. You may not understand the herd mentality of horses, but that can be learned. What you have, empathy for all animals, is far more important.”
She swallowed. “That means a lot to me, Regan. I was feeling pretty much like a dweeb an hour ago, but...what you just said helps.”
“I’m glad.” He could drown in those blue eyes, and he dared not. She’d invited him here for the good of the horses and so she wouldn’t make some terrible mistake that would cause them harm. The emotion he saw in her eyes was related to that, and not to a personal connection between them.
She gazed up at him, her expression soft. Yeah, he wanted to kiss her.
Then she broke eye contact, and the moment was gone. She cleared her throat. “Ready to feed Wilbur and Harley?”
Either he’d misinterpreted the way she’d been looking at him, or she didn’t want to get romantically involved. Either way, he’d do well to cool his jets. He gestured toward the bowl he’d been filling. “Nothing else will fit in here, so I suppose the answer is yes.”
“Then let’s go.”
Resolving to avoid any more dreamy-eyed moments, he walked with her out to the mud hole she’d dug behind the ranch house. Once again he marveled at how deep it was. She’d engaged in some serious digging because she’d wanted Wilbur to feel at home, and now Harley could enjoy the results of her labor, too.
Both pigs lay in happy abandon in the mud, but they perked up the minute Lily and Regan arrived with dinner. Regan set down Harley’s bowl, careful to put it a distance away from Wilbur’s. With squeals of delight, each pig waddled toward his respective dinner and buried his snout in the pile of veggies.
“They’re cute.” Regan surprised himself by saying that.
“I know. I’ve already bonded with Wilbur. I have about fifty pictures of him on my phone. I took some of Harley today. They both have the most adorable faces.”
“I can’t see much of their faces right now, but I like the way they wag their little tails when they’re happy. I also expected it to smell bad out here, but it doesn’t.”
“I’m pretty fanatical about cleaning up after my animals. These pigs may wallow in the mud, but I don’t want them to stink. That’s gross.”
Regan hadn’t thought much about it before, but the stalls had been spotless, too. No wonder he’d felt muscles when he’d grabbed her arm. She must be shoveling a good part of the day. “Have you thought of hiring someone to help deal with cleanup?”
“Nick mentioned that, too. I kind of like not worrying about an employee. If push comes to shove, I might have to get someone, but I don’t want to rush into it.”
Regan nodded and turned his attention back to the pigs. “They sure are tearing into that food, especially Harley.”
“From what I’ve read, they’ll eat as much as you give them, and they’ll allow themselves to get overweight. But in other ways they’re very smart. Their IQ is—wait, I don’t need to tell you. You’re a vet. You probably know all that.”
“I’ve heard they’re intelligent, but that’s about all I know. Aren’t they smarter than most dogs?”
“They are, and I like that they have brains. I might have to keep these two instead of finding new homes for them.”
Regan opened his mouth to say that more pigs would be coming because the word was out. She’d have to make sure she didn’t bond with the next one, and the one after that, or she’d be