Following Evening,
James Feng was determined to make the most of his evening by learning how to cook a proper steak.
Armed with a laptop, he set it on the kitchen counter and began watching a tutorial video. The sound of sizzling meat from the pan filled the air as he followed the instructions closely.
He was halfway through flipping the steak when Old John entered, holding a plate in his hands. A teasing smile stretched across the older man's face as he approached James.
"Hey, boss, look what I brought you!" Old John said cheerfully.
James turned to see what was on the plate and was greeted by the sight of perfectly roasted lamb. The scent of charcoal-grilled meat, enhanced by a sprinkle of pepper and cumin, was irresistible.
"Roast lamb?" he asked, wiping his hands before accepting the plate.
He took a bite, and the flavours exploded in his mouth—juicy, tender, and perfectly seasoned. He gave Old John an appreciative thumbs-up. "This is fantastic!"
Old John chuckled. "This mutton came from old cowboy Mark. He sent over a few cuts, so we roasted some. Figured you'd be hungry since Miss Stanwell isn't around."
James's face reddened slightly. The implication was clear: his cooking skills were questionable at best. He turned his attention back to the steak, only to find that it had overcooked.
With a resigned sigh, he abandoned the idea of steak for dinner and instead joined Old John in enjoying the lamb. As they ate, James struck up a conversation about the origin of the meat.
"Is this free-range lamb?" James asked between bites.
Old John nodded. "Yup, the meat's much better this way. Mark raises a few sheep at home. Whenever he slaughters one, it lasts him for a good two weeks. If you're interested, we could set up a small enclosure and raise some ourselves. Doesn't take much space, and the permanent workers could handle feeding them."
James's eyes lit up at the suggestion. With over 300 acres dedicated to grape cultivation, there was still plenty of unused land on his vineyard. Raising livestock sounded like a great way to make use of the surplus space, and he could enjoy fresh, high-quality meat. "Alright, Old John. If you have time, go ahead and buy some sheep."
Old John smiled, pleased with the decision.
As James imagined the vineyard bustling with sheep, dogs, and even a few horses, an idea struck him. "If we're going to do this cowboy thing, we might as well go all in," he thought. He shared his musings with Joanna the next day, and she eagerly supported the idea.
A few days later, Joanna and James found themselves driving along National Highway 101 in a sleek, red convertible Ferrari. Joanna had her hair tied up, and she wore a light jacket, exuding youthful charm. The wind rushed past them as they cruised down the highway.
"There aren't many convertibles on this road," Joanna said, glancing at the scenery. "Most people take this route for tourism. If you really want to enjoy a scenic drive, the section from SLO to Highway 1, which leads straight to Monterey, is the most beautiful. You get mountains on one side and the Pacific Ocean on the other."
James nodded, intrigued. "I've heard of Highway 1. It sounds like the kind of place I'd love to visit."
They continued chatting as they drove north from San Luis Obispo (SLO) into northern California. Following the GPS, they navigated through Santa Clara County and eventually found themselves driving along a narrow mountain road. After a short off-road detour, they arrived at the horse farm.
James parked the Ferrari carefully, worried about the potential damage from the bumpy road. He inspected the car for any scratches or dents, relieved to find none. "I guess even the U.S. has its fair share of shoddy road projects," he muttered before joining Joanna.
The horse farm wasn't particularly large, spanning about 40 acres, but it was well-equipped.
There were five standard stables, two racetracks, two training fields, and a spacious hay barn. Additionally, the farm had a shop stocked with various riding supplies. The place looked professional and well-maintained.
Joanna, taking the lead, struck up a conversation with the farm owner while James wandered around, admiring the horses. From his limited knowledge, every horse looked impressive—tall, sleek, and majestic. Fortunately, Joanna had prepped him beforehand. Their goal today was to purchase warm-blooded horses.
"Warm-blooded horses?" James had asked earlier.
"Yes," Joanna explained patiently. "Hot-blooded horses are high-spirited and mainly used for racing. Cold-blooded horses are strong and ideal for farm work. Warm-blooded horses are a crossbreed of the two—versatile, good for riding, performances, and equestrian sports."
Back at the farm, Joanna inspected the horses carefully, checking their build and temperament. She pointed to one horse and said, "First, we check the proportions. The head, neck, shoulders, back, and limbs should all be in harmony. This one's neck is a bit too thin."
James nodded, impressed by her expertise. Joanna continued, "Next, we examine the joints and limbs. Compact and well-formed joints are essential. We don't want any signs of injury or strain."
She eliminated another horse, though James thought it looked fine. Watching her work, he realized how easily he could have been duped without her guidance.
After a thorough inspection, Joanna shortlisted five horses. She walked each one to observe their movements, checking for any hidden injuries. The owner of the farm, impressed by her diligence, watched silently.
James admired Joanna's skill. "Good thing I brought an expert. No chance for any profiteers to trick me today."
With the shortlist ready, Joanna turned to James. "Alright, here are the best candidates. You can pick one."
Then his tyrant personality broke out, and he said, "Then buy them all."
Joanna shook her head straight after hearing this: "No, the batch I selected are all good horses with pedigree certificates, and it is best to have a dedicated owner to take care of them one-on-one. If you choose all at once, the good horses will not get enough care and sports, in the stables it only breeds a bad temper and ruins the talent."
James didn't expect to be so particular about it. James hesitated, unsure of which horse to choose. They all seemed equally impressive to him. As he scanned the group, his eyes met those of a bay-colored horse. The horse, with its large, curious eyes and glossy coat, seemed to regard him with interest.
"This one," James said, stepping closer and gently patting the horse's head. The animal snorted softly and nudged his hand, as if seeking more attention. James smiled. "I think it likes me."
Joanna examined the horse. "A bay-colored Andalusian, about four and a half years old, 165 cm tall. Strong build, excellent choice!"
Satisfied with his pick, James turned to Joanna. "Why don't you choose one for yourself?"
Joanna looked surprised. "Me?"
"Of course. You're the expert here. Besides, you'll need a horse when you're riding with me."
Joanna smiled and selected a brown Arabian horse. "This one," she said, stroking its mane. "It's over five years old, and its sire has a good track record in competitions. Plus, I've taken a liking to it."
James agreed with her choice. To complete their stable, they also picked three well-trained Quarter Horses, spending over $30,000 in total.
Next, they headed to the shop to buy equipment. James, drawn to the Western aesthetic, selected a handcrafted dark red saddle with intricate carvings. Despite being twice, the price of a regular saddle, he felt it was worth it. They also purchased bridles, reins, riding whips, helmets, vests, boots, and cleaning supplies.
By the time they were done, James had signed a check for $120,000. "No wonder equestrianism is called an aristocratic sport," he remarked. "I've spent enough to buy half a Ferrari, and this is just the basic setup. Raising a purebred racehorse must cost a fortune."
Joanna laughed. "Welcome to the world of horse lovers."
As they loaded their purchases into the car, James felt a sense of excitement. The vineyard was evolving into something more than just a business venture. It was becoming a place where he could live out his dreams and passions—a haven where work and leisure intertwined seamlessly.