Chapter 1 #2
Bernie waved toward the pond, where a lone white goose floated across the surface, seemingly unfazed by his missing mate.
“My geese are good at guarding the property. It could be that she attacked an intruder, whether it was four-legged or two-legged, and got killed for her effort. I need to know what happened so I can protect the other animals. Plus, I need to know why who or whatever killed it left it on my porch—for my peace of mind.”
Gerard held up his hands. “I’ll do what I can, but I’ve never investigated the murder of a farm animal.”
She gave him a crooked smile. “Sometimes, a fresh set of eyes helps. Maybe just your presence will keep the intruder from striking again and give us time to identify him.”
She was willing to give the city boy a chance. The least he could do was give it his best effort, starting with learning more about his client and her life at Bellamy Acres. “Have you always been a farmer?” Gerard asked.
Bernie stopped in front of a wooden fence and leaned on the top rail, staring out at the odd collection of animals.
“This small farm has been in my husband’s family for over two hundred years.
It once was over two hundred acres. Over the years, prior generations sold off portions until now it’s only fifty acres.
When I married Ray, I didn’t have any experience farming or raising animals.
But I learned. We worked the farm together until he couldn’t work the farm anymore, and then he died. He was the last of his family line.”
“No children?” Gerard studied her, imagining she’d make a good mother as much as she cared about the animals on her place.
Bernie shook her head. “No.”
“What happened to your husband?” Gerard asked, curious about this relatively young woman who was the sole owner of a working farm, managing its operation single-handedly.
Bernie stared out at the animals. “He was thirty-one when he got sick. It took the doctors several months to diagnose his condition. When they did, they gave him two to five years to live.”
“Cancer?” Gerard guessed.
She snorted. “If only. So many cancers can be beaten or at least pushed into remission. No, Ray was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.”
Gerard’s chest tightened. “ALS.” As far as he knew, there was no cure for the disease. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed. “He didn’t last two and a half years.
Between taking care of him and the farm, the farm took a backseat.
The fields went fallow. I only grew enough produce for our own use and took care of the animals the best I could.
After he passed, it took me three years to bring the farm production back to where we had it before his diagnosis. ”
“You did that all on your own?” Gerard shook his head, impressed at her strength and determination. “Did you ever stop to breathe?”
She shook her head. “No. I focused on the future. It kept me from thinking too much about the past.”
“Ever thought about selling the farm?” he asked. “I can imagine this place is a lot of work. Especially for one person.”
“I’ve had offers. Recent offers.” She frowned.
“A company out of Florida has been buying land all around the farm. They want to put in a golf resort and need my place because it’s good, solid ground they could build the actual resort buildings on.
Bellamy Acres is smack-dab in the middle of the other tracts.
It's the only thing holding them up from moving forward on construction.”
“You said no,” Gerard said.
“What else could I say?” She nodded toward the animals in the field beyond.
“This farm was my husband’s. The animals are the children we never had.
We’d held off on a family until we got the farm producing.
Then Ray got the diagnosis. He said it would be careless and heartless to have children when he carried the gene for ALS.
He didn’t wish the condition on anyone, especially any children we might have had. ” Her words caught.
Gerard understood Bernie’s husband’s desire not to pass on bad traits to his children all too well. He’d avoided marriage and children for that very reason.
Bernie squared her shoulders. “I didn’t bring you here to feel sorry for me or Bellamy Acres. I asked for help to protect my little family of critters. It’s too late for Gertrude, but I hope it isn’t too late for the others.” She gave him a watery smile. “Let me introduce you to my family.”
“Uh. Okay.” Gerard could see the animals meant a lot to Bernie. Though he had no experience with pets, big or small, he followed her through the gate and into the field.
The herd of creatures all came running at once.
Though the stampede intimidated the hell out of Gerard, he stepped in front of Bernie to protect her from being overrun. Then he cringed, braced himself and prepared to be trampled to death.
Bernie chuckled and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay. They won’t hurt us.”
“Are you sure about that?” Even as he asked the question, the animals came to an abrupt halt in front of them.
Bernie stepped around Gerard, reaching out to run her hand along the neck of a light brownish-red llama. “This is Lucy, the llama. She’s a little goofy, but loveable. And here comes Desi.”
The bold, black and white llama strutted up to Bernie, his head held high.
“Desi is flamboyant and cocky,” Bernie said. “Aren’t you, big boy?” she crooned. “I caution all men to avoid looking him in the eye.”
Gerard frowned. “Why?”
“He takes it as a challenge to his dominance.”
“Will he attack?” Gerard looked at Bernie, keeping Desi firmly in his peripheral vision.
“Sort of.” Bernie’s lips quirked. “He spits.” She patted the llama’s neck and fished a carrot out of her pocket.
After she broke it in half, she gave one piece to Lucy and the other to Desi.
They trotted off to chew their treats, making room for the other animals that were not quite as tall or intimidating.
A soft gray donkey, not much bigger than the hound dog Gerard had seen sleeping on the front porch of the house, nuzzled Bernie’s hand.
She smoothed her fingers over the donkey’s nose and scratched behind its ear. “This is Dom DeLuise, the miniature donkey who thinks he’s a dog.”
“A dog?” Gerard’s eyes narrowed. “How so?”
“Watch.” Bernie held up a carrot. “Sit.”
Dom DeLuise dropped down on his ass.
“Roll over,” Bernie commanded.
The donkey rolled over and jumped up, his tail swishing.
“Good, Dom,” she cooed and gave him the treat.
Dom DeLuise trotted off to munch his carrot.
Gerard shook his head.
“He grew up with Howey Mandell, the hound dog you might’ve seen on the porch when you drove up,” Bernie smiled. “I tried to train Howey to sit and roll over. He wasn’t very receptive, but Dom picked up quickly and likes dog treats as much as carrots.”
With the donkey out of the way, several goats moved closer, bleating for their turn and pushing their noses into Bernie’s hand.
“The brown and white Boer goat is Elvis. Don’t turn your back on him. He has a bad habit of sneaking up behind you and butting you when you least expect him.”
She gave Elvis a piece of a carrot and shooed him away.
“The black Spanish goat is Maleficent. The three smaller goats are her triplets, Flora, Fauna & Merryweather. Sometimes, I take the donkey and the female goats to local events and set up a petting zoo. It’s a good way for children to get familiar with farm animals and for the animals to earn their keep. ”
Bernie pointed to the other end of the pasture where a brown and white cow lazily munched on grass. “That’s Dolly, our milk cow. I milk her morning and evening and sell her milk at the store in town. I also make butter to sell at the farmer’s market.”
“Where do you find time to do all this?” Gerard asked.
Bernie shrugged. “What else would I do with my time?”
“Go out to dinner with friends. Go dancing. Travel,” he suggested.
She laughed. “My friends are all married with families of their own. I never learned to dance, and travel is out of the question.” She raised her hands, palms upward. “Who would take care of the animals while I was gone? They need me. And frankly, I need to be needed.”
“What did you do before you married Ray and his farm?”
Bernie smiled softly.
Again, he thought, not beautiful, but pretty in a way that made him want to hug her.
“I took care of my grandparents,” she answered, her tone matter-of-fact.
“What do you mean?”
“My parents died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver when I was in high school. My grandparents took me in. They were older, having had my mother when they were in the forties. By the time I graduated high school, their health was failing. I worked part-time at the feed store and took care of my grandparents.”
“College?” Gerard asked.
She smiled as she walked around the banks of the small pond. “I did it all online, graduating with a degree in business with an emphasis on marketing.” She looked around at the animals. “I do some online consulting for a little extra money for feed and seed.”
“In your spare time,” Gerard murmured. Which had to be nonexistent. He was tired just thinking about everything this woman accomplished in a twenty-four-hour day.
Bernie led the way out of the pasture, closing the gate behind them.
Gerard followed her to a small structure surrounded by tightly woven chicken wire.
She bent to turn the handle on a faucet that hung over the small trough inside the chicken run.
Water ran out of the spigot into the small trough.
When it was full, Bernie turned it off and straightened.
“I let the chickens out during the day to range feed and put them up at night to keep them from being eaten by raccoons, coyotes or stray dogs.” She looked around as if searching for something.
“Where is he?” she murmured.
“Where’s who?”