Chapter 10 No Goats. Probably
No Goats... Probably
Quinn
It felt good to soak up some sunshine, breathe in the fresh air, and just be. It was a relief—like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer day, despite missing the chaos of the clinic.
The sun sits high in the sky by the time I finish in the garden and trim the hedges—two more things I can check off my to-do list for the day.
I make myself a quick lunch, shower, and change into a sundress before making my rounds in town.
I want to visit Pops, stop by the café to see Mrs. Mackey, and make a trip to the grocery store.
It’s been years since I’ve stayed in Cottonwood Creek for more than a day, but this place still holds a piece of me—a bit of my childhood. It’s always been my home away from home.
Spring hangs in the air as I roll down my car windows, letting the scent of damp earth and green things drift in. I try to find peace in the quiet moment—a brief departure from the mayhem of life working at the vet clinic.
When I walk into Pops’ room, I’m relieved to see him sitting up in the recliner watching Law & Order. His face has a bit more color than last time I saw him.
His room is simple: a recliner, an adjustable bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a small table with a puzzle he’s been working on. A blood pressure cuff and portable EKG monitor sit tucked in the corner.
“Hey, Pops. You look cozy,” I say, noting the quilt he’s covered up with.
His eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Hi, Quinnie girl. Did you bring me any of the good stuff?”
I cock my head to the side. “Good stuff?”
“You know, food that actually has flavor. Chips? Cookies? A pretzel?”
I narrow my gaze. “Pops, I’m not sneaking you junk food. Do you remember the conversation we had with Dr. Berk?”
His brows pull together as his mustache twitches in irritation. “I’m kidding. But the food here tastes like paste. I’m partial to the Jell-O, though.”
I snort. “Don’t think for a second that you’re going to fool me. I’m watching you like a hawk. I have nothing better to do with my time right now.”
He quickly changes the subject. “You holding down the ranch while I’m stuck here?”
I know he’s itching to know how everything is back at home, desperate for any crumb of information I can give him.
“Wes and Tripp have the ranch in hand. They’ve been busy with calving.”
He grunts and folds his hands behind his head, leaning back in the chair. “Tell me what’s new.”
“I cleared out the weeds from Grams’ garden,” I say, sitting on the edge of his bed.
His eyes shine, and he blinks a few times before he responds. “Jenny always did love that garden.”
“I remember.” I tuck a leg up underneath me, getting comfortable. “Sawyer and I went to North Platte yesterday to pick up some rescue horses.”
“You get some good ones?” he questions, interest piqued.
“I think so. They look healthy, just need some work with a good trainer.”
He nods, eyes following a bird outside the window. “Good.”
I wince. “I might have rescued a pig.”
“A pig?” His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.
“A pot-bellied pig,” I clarify, swiping to a picture I took on my phone. “I named him Winston.”
He squints at the screen and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, Quinn.”
He’s likely remembering how often I used to try to bring the barn cats into the house. I smile at him sheepishly. “I wanted to set him up with a little pen outside the barn. I thought by those apple trees might be a decent spot,” I suggest. “What do you think?”
He shakes his head, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “Sure, Quinnie girl. That spot sounds fine.”
We watch Law & Order together and chat about Wes’ newest plans for the ranch until a nurse comes in, announcing it’s time for occupational therapy. Pops groans like she’s sentenced him to hard labor.
I help him into the wheelchair, and he rolls toward the therapy room, muttering about everyone conspiring against him. I lean against the doorframe and watch him go until the thought of Mrs. Mackey’s chocolate chip cookies finally pulls me away.
Mrs. Mackey slides a cookie the size of my face across the counter and waves away my wallet.
“Put that away, hun. It’s been too long since I’ve gotten to feed you.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Mackey. I’ve been dreaming about this cookie since I got into town.”
She beams at me, then zeroes in on my hand. “Now tell me why a pretty girl like you still doesn’t have a ring on her finger.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Guess I just haven’t found the right one yet.”
“Or maybe you just don’t realize you’ve found him. Have you thought of that?”
God, the people in this town could be absurd.
“So, Pops is doing better,” I blurt out, trying to extricate myself from this convoluted conversation.
“Well, that’s very good, dear.” She gives me a tight smile that tells me this conversation isn’t over and I’m likely to have a list of eligible bachelors in a twenty-mile radius by the time I finish this cookie—but she lets me go and I retreat to a corner booth with my phone.
I consider revamping my resume, but before I can type a single word, my best friend’s bright pink hair fills the screen.
I answer the video call with a smile. “Marlowe!”
“Hey, girl. How goes it in the middle of nowhere? How’s Pops?”
I prop my chin on my hand. “Cell service here sucks, but Pops got transferred to the nursing home for some in-patient rehab. He’s impatient to get back home.”
“I’m sure.” She wrinkles her nose, the diamond stud in her nostril glinting. “The food is always awful at those places.”
I huff out a laugh. “You sound just like him.”
She squints at me as I shove a chunk of cookie in my mouth. “Doesn’t look like you’re suffering with him.”
“This is heaven. The owner of this place is the queen of baked goods. Best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you, honey,” Mrs. Mackey calls from the next table, refilling someone’s coffee.
“Okay, spill,” Marlowe says. “What have you been doing out there?”
I pick at the cookie crumbs. “Not much. Sorted through some old boxes, fixed up the garden. Had dinner with Tripp my first night here, and a deer darted in front of the truck.”
Her eyes widen. “You hit a deer?”
“Well, he did. It got knocked out, but it came to. I checked it for injuries, and it seemed okay.”
She blinks. “Anything else you’d like to share with the class?”
“Oh,” I gasp, snapping my fingers. “I got a pig yesterday.”
Her jaw drops. “You what now?”
“I went with my brother’s fiancée to a rescue. She was picking up some horses, and, well...” I shrug. “I came home with a pot-bellied pig.”
“Of course you did.” She rolls her eyes but can’t hide her smile. “And its name is?”
“Winston.”
“Naturally,” she deadpans.
I laugh, and then she narrows her eyes. “Back up. You hadn’t even been there twenty-four hours, and some guy took you to dinner?”
“It wasn’t like that.” I wave a hand. “Tripp is Wes’ best friend—they used to rope together. He just wanted to make sure I got settled.”
“Oh, dinner with a real cowboy, huh?”
“Yes, Mar. We’ve known each other forever. It wasn’t a thing.”
“Mm-hmm. Interesting.”
I groan, dragging my palm down my face. “It’s seriously the least interesting thing I’ve said. Wait, are you at home? Is the living room a different color?” I ask, shifting the topic away from cute cowboys. I was an uncomfortable-conversation magnet today.
She glances behind her. “Oh, yeah. We decided to redecorate this weekend.”
“Oh God. I’m sorry I missed that.”
“It’s all good. We got it done. No drama.”
“Hm, hard to believe.”
Marlowe and Lindsey had been together for two years now. The honeymoon phase was long gone, and while they adored each other, they never missed a chance to bicker. Honestly, I was half-convinced they did it just to fuel some weird angry-sex ritual.
“Okay, fine—we bickered. It took us three hours to agree on a paint color. But we made up in record time.”
“Oh, I’ll bet you did,” I say with a wink.
Her cheeks turn a shade that nearly matches her hair. “Do you have anything fun planned?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.
“Does building an enclosure for Winston count?”
“Absolutely not. Come on, Quinn. You don’t have a job right now. Why don’t you get out and live a little?” She waggles her eyebrows at me.
“I am living,” I argue.
“No. You’re caretaking. That’s different. You don’t have work as an excuse anymore. I know you like to stay busy and be productive, but damn, girl—you need to let loose and have some fun.”
“I’m having fun,” I say, trying to sound convincing. I had plans to train a pig. That would be loads of fun.
“I meant having fun with humans, Quinn.”
I wince, her words hitting their mark. My best friend knew me all too well. “I told you about dinner with Tripp.”
“The non-date that ended in deer rescue? Sure,” she says, wholly unimpressed.
“I can have fun without it being a date. And I couldn’t just leave the deer on the side of the road.”
Why did I have to keep defending myself about that?
“I know, I know. I’m just saying, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to take this time to focus on yourself too—not just Pops and rescuing animals everywhere you go.”
“Fine. I’ll think about it.” I pop the last bite of chocolate chip cookie into my mouth.
“Good, that’s all I ask.” She grins. “But I swear if you adopt a goat next, I’m sending reinforcements.”
I snort. “No goats... probably.”
We say our goodbyes, and I head to the little grocery store next door. But her words stick with me, circling like vultures.
What would focusing on myself even look like out here?