Lois Greiman - [Hope Springs 02]

by Home Fires

  “Emily, think about this. You’re not going to have time to milk her. You’re going to have a baby. I mean, I don’t know much about raising children, but I’m told it can be rather time-consuming and—”

  “That’s why this idea is so exemplary,” Emily said. “Instead of running to town every other day for milk, we’ll have our own … maybe a little extra to sell to the neighbors, and hey … you know I’ve been wanting to make the Lazy’s own brand of earth-friendly soap.”

  Casie felt the heinous weakness take hold, but she bolstered herself with the memory of fatigue and good sense. “Dairy animals have to be milked twice a day, Emily. Twice a day, every day. How are we going to manage that?”

  “See, that’s the beauty of it.”

  Casie raised her brows, waiting for a glimpse of that elusive beauty.

  “I talked to Bess at some length about this.”

  “Bess?”

  “Bodie’s owner. Former owner,” she corrected and grinned.

  “Oh, sure.” The kids were rearing again, pawing at each other with cloven hooves, ears flapping wildly, distracting as hell, cute as bunnies.

  “She said we don’t have to treat this like a traditional dairy operation.”

  Casie raised her brows and refrained from glancing about. She thought it fairly obvious that they were not in danger of being considered traditional. Or a dairy. Or possibly sane.

  “She said if we don’t have time to milk her for a few days or a week or whatever, we can just turn the kids back in with the doe. Then when we want to begin milking her again we just remove the babies and—”

  “Wait,” Sophie said, “we have to take her kids away from her?”

  “Of course,” Emily said, but her own expression was somber suddenly. “How do you think the big operations do it?”

  “I thought you just said we weren’t a traditional dairy.”

  “Well, we’re not,” Emily said. “But the confinement farms take the babies away immediately, put the calves in solitary confinement, and start milking the moms with machines. Bess said these little ones have had plenty of time with Bo. They’ve gotten all the colostrum and stuff they need.” She was still scowling, despite her upbeat tone. “Plus they have each other so they won’t get too lonely. Besides that, they’ll still be able to be with Bodacious sometimes. Like when I go into labor. That way you guys won’t have to worry about anything.”

  “Anything?” Sophie asked, tone dubious. “I heard that if a fence doesn’t hold water it won’t hold a goat, either.”

  “It’s great that you checked into all this,” Casie said, trying to stop her head from spinning. “And your ideas seem …” Crazy. “Sound. I just don’t think now’s the time to introduce another—”

  “Listen,” Emily said, expression absolutely sober again. “I know I’m a burden.”

  “What? No. Emily—” Casie began and took a step forward, but the younger woman held up her hand.

  “Just let me say this, okay?” Her lips were pursed into a puckered mound, her dark eyes wide with sincerity. “There’s no way I can ever repay you. I know that. I’m not delusional. I just want to …” She swallowed. Her mouth twitched. “I just want to earn my keep, you know. I just want to feel like I’m doing something to help pay for me and Baby Roxbury.”

  “Something?” Casie felt her heart crack. “Are you kidding me? Em, you do everything.” The girl shook her head. One fat tear bulged at the corner of her eye, threatening to fall and break her world apart. “I mean it. All the cooking, all the gardening, all the cleaning.”

  “I don’t know anything about horses.”

  “Horses!” Casie swung her gaze toward the pasture where her little herds grazed, then laughed out loud. “Holy Hannah, Em. We have horses covered. People pay to work with the horses. People travel …” She waved vaguely toward Linette. “Hundreds of miles to work with horses. But I’ll tell you this for sure, no one’s going to pay to make our meals. No one’s going to pay to clean the basement and bottle-feed the lambs, and … and …” She glanced toward the little mother-to-be again, hoping against hope that that one fat tear wouldn’t fall. “And take care of every godforsaken emergency that pops up in the middle of the night.”

  “It’s not enough,” Emily said. Her eyes were dead steady, her expression absolutely impassive.

  “What?”

  “You’re giving my baby a home, Case,” she said. Her lips were pursed again, her eyes round and solemn. “You’re giving us a place to live. Keeping us off the streets.” She swallowed. Her neck was dark and smooth. “I know I can’t repay that. Not ever. Not in a thousand years.” She cleared her throat. “But I want to try. I have to try. I mean … I know it won’t be much, but maybe I can make a little profit on homemade soaps. Maybe I can repay you in some small way. Maybe I can—” she began, and that’s when that fat, traitorous tear fell.

  “Oh, Em,” Casie said, and because she couldn’t resist, she pulled the girl into her arms. “There’s nothing to repay. I’m glad to have you here. I’m thrilled to have you here. And if it’s that important to you, you can keep the goats.”

  “No.” Her shoulders bumped up on a sharp sniffle. “No. It’s all right. I’m just being silly. Endocrine overload.” She swiped her knuckles across her cheek. “I saw Bodacious in the field and I knew Bess couldn’t keep her and she had those babies and I thought about what it would be like to have kids and no home and I …” She paused, struggling for breath. “But you’re right. They’re going to be a lot of trouble, so—”

  “No. I was wrong.” Casie shook her head with vigor, wishing she could call it all back, make it all right. “What’s one more goat?”

  “Three more—”

  Casie laughed, feeling a dozen odd emotions swirl inside her all at once. “Three more goats,” she said and pushed Emily to arm’s length. “We’ll work it out.”

  “You sure?” Emily asked and raised her watery gaze to Casie’s before swiping her hand across her cheek again.

  “I’m sure,” Casie said. “You okay?”

  Em nodded.

  Casie smiled.

  Emily cleared her throat. “I thought I’d put them in the corncrib.”

  “The corncrib?” Casie said, dubious.

  Emily blinked. “It’s empty and secure. They won’t be able to get through the wire.”

  “But—”

  Emily’s lips twitched.

  “Yeah,” Casie said. “That’s a good idea. Go ahead.”

  “Are you sure?” Emily’s voice was very small.

  “Positive,” Casie said.

  “Okay. Thanks,” Emily said and almost managed a smile before wandering off toward her new wards.

  “Maybe you could help her, Soph,” Casie said.

  Sophie gazed at her a second, then shook her head with almost sad restraint and meandered down the steps after the older girl.

  The five of them made a strange picture trailing across the yard toward the empty corncrib.

  “Wow,” Linette said, coming up beside Casie, coffee cup in hand. “I’ve never seen anything quite like that.”

  Casie sighed. The thing about living with teenagers was that you could never be sure whether you had won or lost. “Yeah. They’re cute, aren’t they?”

  “Oh yes, they’re adorable,” Linette said. “They’re all cuter than hell. But that wasn’t exactly what I was referring to.”

  Casie glanced down at her.

  “I just haven’t seen anyone be played quite so beautifully before, and I’ve got to tell you …” She shook her head. “I’ve been around.”

  “I wasn’t …” Casie scowled, opened her mouth, glanced at the girls herding the goats toward their new enclosure. Sophie said something. Emily smiled. “Holy Hannah,” she said. “I’ve been played.”

  “Like a fine violin,” Linette said.

  “Again,” she said, and despite everything … the impending lawsuits, the turbulent teenagers, the hundred thousand things that nee
ded doing, they laughed out loud.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Then don’t bother coming at all,” Sophie said and snapped her phone shut.

  Ty tightened his fingers in Angel’s mane, breath held as he swept his gaze toward Casie. It was five o’clock in the afternoon. Fewer than twenty hours had passed since they’d realized Angel’s new troubles. It felt like two hundred. School, which used to be a respite from the weighty tension of home life, had dragged on forever. Even Charles Dickens couldn’t hold his attention.

  Finally home, it had been a relief to see Angel standing square and quiet on all four feet, but she was heavily medicated and needed therapeutic shoeing as soon as possible. Thus the recent phone call.

  “Sophie …” Casie’s tone was a warning, but judging by the girl’s petulant glare, she was in no mood for advice of any sort.

  Sophie’s gaze caught on his for a second. He felt the heat of it like an acetylene torch long before she turned her attention to Casie.

  “What?” Her tone was abrasive. It would be crazy of him to like her. Probably crazy to like any girl … especially a bossy girl like her. He might be young, but he wasn’t entirely stupid. “We can’t wait around forever just because Darren is too lazy to get his butt off his recliner.”

  “He probably had appointments with other clients,” Casie said.

  “And what about Angel? Isn’t she important enough for him to waste his time on? Maybe we should just put her down, then, if we can’t get someone to take care of her feet.”

  Ty was familiar with Sophie’s dramatics, was fully aware that Casie had no intention of giving up on the mare that had captured their hearts, and yet he felt his stomach knot up tight, felt his hands tremble.

  Casie glanced at him before shifting her attention back to Sophie. “Let’s avoid the histrionics,” she said.

  “Histrionics?” Sophie said. “What do you think is going to happen if we don’t get her feet taken care of?”

  “We are taking care of them. We’ve got the pain under control. And I’m sure Darren will be here in a couple hours.”

  “A couple of hours! She could be dead in a couple of hours. She could be—”

  “Another relaxing day at the Lazy?” Colt asked and silently stepped into the doorway of Angel’s box stall.

  Ty felt something strike his gut, a feeling oddly balanced between relief and turmoil, jealousy and gratitude.

  The women glanced at the new arrival. Had they turned their collective attention on Ty like that, he would have been tempted to duck and cover, but Colt Dickenson seemed comfortable in the eye of the storm.

  “How’s she doing?” he asked. Blithely ignoring Sophie’s dark glare and Casie’s uncertain body language, he lifted the door latch and stepped into the stall.

  Ty shrugged, Sophie fumed. Only Casie spoke.

  “About the same as this morning, I think. She doesn’t seem terribly uncomfortable, but she’s probably higher than a kite, so it’s hard to tell.” There was something in her tone that hadn’t been there earlier … worry, maybe. Why? Was she increasingly concerned, or was there something about Dickenson’s presence that allowed her to let down her guard? His stomach knotted up tighter. “I’m not sure what else to do,” she said.

  “The farrier isn’t in a rush to come back, huh?” Dickenson asked and grinned a little as he glanced at Sophie.

  “It’s not my fault,” she said tersely. That was one thing about Sophie. She was as caustic as battery acid, but at least she wasn’t bowled over by Dickenson’s rough charm. Then again, if the rodeo cowboy couldn’t win her over, what chance did lesser men have?

  Dickenson, however, seemed completely untroubled by his inability to enchant and grinned crookedly as he crouched to place his palm flat against Angel’s left forefoot. In a moment he switched to her lateral hoof.

  They all remained silent. It was impossible to see his expression beneath his Stetson, but finally he stood.

  “What do you think?” Casie asked. Oh, he didn’t like Colt. There was no getting around that, but the man was Monty’s son, and Monty wouldn’t raise no fool.

  “I’m no expert,” he said.

  Casie lowered her brows. “They’re still hot, aren’t they?”

  He sighed. “Feels that way to me.”

  Casie nodded. She was trying to look casual, relaxed, but Ty knew her better than that, knew she smiled when she was worried, knew she was the gentlest soul on earth but would fight like a mad dog to save those she cared about. The image of her face after her return from his parents’ farm still haunted his dreams. His eyes stung, but he blinked. Being a baby wouldn’t do anybody no good. “Maybe Doc Miller can help us out.”

  “Doc Miller?” Sophie’s tone was skeptical at best, but he didn’t glance at her. Seeing her gleaming hair and too-perfect features wouldn’t help anything, either. “The pig doctor?”

  “He works on other livestock, too,” Casie reminded her.

  “Yes,” Sophie said, “if the other livestock has a rumen. Horses, if you recall … do not.”

  Casie lifted one brow at her. And Sophie, to Ty’s surprise, merely glanced away diffidently. When she spoke again her tone had lost its biting edge. “I don’t think Doc Miller will be much help.”

  It was a strange interaction. Sophie backing down, Sophie not being a bitch.

  “Have you got a better suggestion?” Casie asked.

  Sophie scowled, then after a second’s hesitation pulled the cell phone out of her pocket again. It was then that Ty could no longer remain silent.

  “I ain’t taking no more money from your dad,” he said. All eyes turned to him. He was as surprised as any of them that he had spoken.

  “Listen,” Sophie said, brows pulled low over storm-cloud eyes. “Now’s not the time,” she began, but he shook his head, interrupting her before she could dig her heels in further. Memories of the hipster in the Camaro streamed through his head like poison arrows.

  “I ain’t,” he said.

  “Fine. Let’s just let her die then,” Sophie said. Her left fist was clenched by her thigh. Her lips were pursed in her signature expression of anger, and though her eyes were narrowed dangerously, they seemed unusually bright. “It doesn’t matter to me if—”

  “Soph,” Casie warned, but Ty barely heard her. He was drowning in the liquid brilliance of Sophie’s eyes. It wasn’t until that second that he recognized the worry in them. The worry masked as anger.

  “What?” Sophie snapped, and when she turned toward Casie, the moment had passed. “Dad paid good money to fix her and now …”

  “Sam’ll know what to do.”

  Colt’s voice was quiet, but somehow it pierced the echoing emotions, the turbulent angst. Ty had no idea how he managed that.

  “What?” Sophie asked.

  “Who’s Sam?” Casie said, but Colt was already pulling a phone from his own pocket.

  “Hang on a second,” he said and pressed a single button. In a moment he was speaking into the tiny receiver. “Yeah, hey, it’s me.” There was the slightest pause. He laughed, rocking back a little on his worn heels. “Not recently. Say, I’ve got a problem. Was wondering if you could help me out.” Another pause. “Close. We got a mare might have a case of laminitis.” He lifted his eyes toward Casie, caught her gaze, and nodded. “Yeah. Recovering from colic surgery.”

  Al bleated as he wandered in, followed by two frolicking kids. Colt raised a questioning hand, but in a moment he was distracted again.

  “Cold-water baths, Bute, Banamine, deep bedding. The usual stuff.” He glanced outside, listening for a second, then, “She’s barefoot now.” He nodded again, rhythmically. “Okay. Yeah. “Where do I find that?” He grinned at the answer. “Well, that’s great, but it’s not in the back of my truck.”

  He shifted his gaze to Casie again. “I don’t want to put you out.” A murmur. “You sure? Okay. We’ll keep her comfortable till then. Thanks, Sam. I owe you one.” He narrowed his eyes and laughed again. “All r
ight. I owe you three,” he said and hung up.

  Al bleated again, breaking the ensuing silence.

  “How long do we have to wait?” Sophie asked.

  Colt shrugged and glanced at Casie. “It takes a while to get here from Pine Ridge.”

  “He’s coming all that way?” Casie asked. “That’s going to cost a fortune in gas alone.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Colt said.

  “I am worried about it,” Casie said.

  Dickenson shrugged. “I’ve helped Sam out a time or two.”

  “It sounded like you’re already in his debt.”

  Colt cleared his throat. “Well, we trade favors.”

  “I don’t want you to owe him more than you can afford to—” Casie began, but just then Bodacious galloped into the barn, head high, frayed rope dragging behind her. Emily appeared a half second later, out of breath as she gave chase. The three of them stared over the stall door at her. She stared back, then dropped her hands to her knees, breathing deeply.

  “Holy shorts. Maybe someone who’s not pregnant could chase after that thing,” she panted.

  A half hour later they were all out of breath, but the hole in the corncrib had been repaired and Bodacious was once again confined. An hour after that, chores had been completed, Dickenson had given Linette another riding lesson, and Ty had once again soaked Angel’s feet. The worry in his gut had receded marginally.

  “Milk or water?” Casie asked. She was pouring beverages from ceramic pitchers that boasted raised pictures of roosters. They matched the glasses to perfection and beat the crap out of the chewed-up plastic ones they used to use. Emily was exceptional at consignment shopping. Even better at taking a run-down house and making it into the kind of home that insisted you kick off your shoes and settle in with a bowl of warm apple crisp and a sigh. But that was only one of the reasons Ty liked her so well. She was also loyal and smart and funny … a friend when he’d desperately needed a friend.

  But Sophie … He shifted his gaze to where she sat beside Dickenson. Guilt crept up. Emily was the one who needed attention. Emily, who was always there for him. Emily, who had never had nobody. Sophie turned her glowing gaze toward him and he jerked his nervously away.