Claire looked at him.
“No.”
“Sixty.”
Mateo’s eyebrows rose.
Claire shook her head.
Harlan stared.
“You paid a thousand.”
“Yes.”
“You can make sixty times your money.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re saying no.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Claire looked at Monarch 417.
“Because I didn’t buy him to flip him.”
“What did you buy him for?”
“At the auction?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“Honestly?”
Harlan nodded.
“I wasn’t completely sure.”
The old cattleman laughed.
Claire continued.
“I saw a bull under the parasites.”
“That was enough.”
Harlan looked again.
“Now?”
“Now I want to know what he can contribute.”
Harlan nodded slowly.
“Breeding.”
“Eventually.”
“If the vet clears him.”
“Exactly.”
Harlan leaned on the fence.
“You really waited for birds?”
Claire sighed.
“That story is already getting distorted.”
“I saw video.”
“Birds helped.”
“They didn’t cure him.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Harlan looked at her.
Claire continued.
“He had veterinary treatment.”
“Quarantine.”
“Supportive care.”
“Nutrition.”
“Monitoring.”
“The caracaras were part of the system.”
Harlan nodded.
“My grandfather used to talk about cattle egrets.”
“Same principle.”
“Different bird.”
“Exactly.”
Harlan smiled.
“You sound like an extension agent.”
“That an insult?”
“Depends on the extension agent.”
Claire laughed.
The bull recovered slowly.
At week three, his appetite became aggressive.
That pleased Mateo more than any laboratory result.
“He tried to steal feed from the bucket.”
Claire smiled.
“Good.”
At week five, his coat began improving.
Ticks became increasingly rare.
Weight returned along his ribs.
His neck thickened.
His shoulders filled.
By the time the quarantine restrictions were lifted under veterinary guidance, Monarch looked like a different animal.
The first day Claire moved him into a controlled breeding pasture, several ranch hands gathered at the fence.
Mateo stood beside her.
“Remember auction day?”
“Yes.”
“You nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Still?”
“Always.”
He smiled.
“Good.”
Claire looked at the bull.
“Granddad used to say confidence without doubt is just ignorance wearing boots.”
Mateo laughed.
“That one I remember.”
Monarch entered the pasture.
He lifted his head.
For the first time since Claire bought him, he looked like the catalog photograph.
Maybe better.
Stronger from survival.
Scarred.
But powerful.
A caracara circled high overhead.
Mateo pointed.
“Friend of his.”
Claire smiled.
“Employee.”
“How much we paying?”
“Ticks.”
“Fair wage.”
The following breeding season changed Garza Ranch.
Not immediately.
Cattle genetics moved slowly.
That was one reason Claire loved ranching.
Nothing real happened at internet speed.
Monarch covered selected cows.
Claire tracked everything.
Birth weights.
Calving ease.
Growth.
Heat tolerance.
Temperament.
She refused to turn one valuable bull into mythology.