It was a rather simple meeting. Jonah had a new foreman, and he wanted him to meet me. I didn't think much of it. I was the feed store manager, so it made perfect sense for me to know all the ranch owners and foremen.

Jonah set the time and place: a Sunday afternoon at a queer little café in the city. I arrived five minutes early like usual, fully expecting some late, old, cranky haole to show up.

As I walked in, some Native American young man held the door for me – no older than twenty-five and a real gentleman. One of my friends from high school was working that shift and she called me as I walked in. "Cricket!"

The gentleman who had held the door for me looked at me calmly and stuck out his hand. "Cricket Pukai? I'm Kit Ely, Jonah's new foreman. Nice to meet you."

I was in a bit of shock, but I remembered my manners enough to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Mr. Ely."

He shrugged, almost unnervingly calm. "Just Kit is fine, ma'am."

I caught his accent that time. A slight Western drawl with something else I couldn't recognize. I wasn't ready to admit yet, but he was ho-ot. "Where are you from, Kit?" I asked politely as we sat down.

"Nevada," he answered, then added, "I'm Shoshone. Well, half."

I nodded. "Well, as you know, I manage the feed store…" I won't bore you with all the details I threw at him. The entire time, he listened stoically, almost to the point where I wondered if he was listening.

When I was done, he nodded. "Could I make a couple suggestions?"

I told him to go ahead, and he listed off several improvements he could think of, mostly about consumer relations and more efficient delivery methods. The few times I interrupted, he patiently heard me out, amended his theory or the way he had said it, then went back to the original discussion. He was different, that was sure. "Could I ask a question?" I said when he was done.

He nodded.

"How did you get all that?"

He grinned like a happy wolf. "Ma'am, I grew up on a Nevada Quarter Horse ranch, then went into the rodeo business for a time. I picked up a few things."

I shook my head, smiling. "What did you do in the rodeo?" I expected him to be involved in some business aspect.

"I was a bronc-buster."

"Can I ask why you stopped?"

He winced, and for the first time, I noticed the brace on his wrist. He saw me looking. "Tweaked it a little too far this morning," he said. "I got it trampled by a big grulla – almost to dust. I managed to stay on him for almost two minutes, though."

I bit my lip. "How bad did it hurt?"

I could see him flashing back to the accident. "It was kind of like a second degree burn, a whole bunch of pins being stuck in you, and getting the wind knocked out of you – all at once, in one tiny part of your body. I also had a compound fracture of one of my carpals. I blacked out on the way to the hospital. All in all, it was not something I would want to repeat."

I nodded and glanced at my watch like I usually do when I'm embarrassed. An entire hour had flown by. The meeting was only supposed to take fifteen minutes. "I need to go," I said. "I didn't realize what time it is. Do you have any questions or…? I made a vague hand motion.

"One question, ma'am," he said, standing, and putting his black Stetson back on his head. "Will I see you again?"

Usually, I'd respond with a flat out NO, but Kit had already shown himself to be far more than usual. "Yes," I said hesitantly, then more firmly, "Yes, you will."

He grinned again and nodded respectfully, holding the door for me again on my way out. He was rather… interesting, that was for sure.