3. Grier
Grier
Saturdays were my favorite day of the week.
I got to share my farm babies with all the other animal lovers in the area.
Usually, it was moms of younger kids who wanted to pet and feed anything that wagged its tail.
With all the staff there to ensure the animals were safe and happy, and the moms able to take a small step back while their offspring stretched their adventurous legs and tried themselves out, it was a win-win for everyone.
Sometimes I loaded all the animals up and we had an event on the soccer field behind the rec. Many of the school fairs and bake sales took place out on that soccer field, and the miniatures were always a big draw.
Mostly, however, I simply opened the gates to the farm and let whoever wanted to spend time helping come up.
We had security, and no one got past the first gate without signing in.
Just because I loved the town and most of the people who lived there didn’t mean I was going to put my babies, my staff, or myself at risk.
I called the kids who came in on the weekends to feed the animals Helping Hands, and they got to enjoy free activities at the rec center. Even if their parents weren’t members, as long as they showed up to play with and feed my babies, they could climb the rock wall all day, every day.
Some of the middle school and high school kids volunteered for the bigger jobs, which counted toward some school credit hours.
I was hoping it taught them life lessons.
Empathy. Compassion. A love for animals and their fellow neighbors.
Perhaps a little bit of work ethic. Hopefully, it would keep them out of trouble.
Tightening my ponytail through the loop at the back of my pink baseball cap, I walked into the barn, where at least thirty other people were already busy in the stalls.
This was our main operations area, almost thirty thousand square feet, and full of more happy memories for me than any other place on earth.
Childish giggles came from nearly every corner of the building, mixed in with the happy bleats and moos from the goats and cows currently being adored.
Waffles drifted away from me to investigate. He shuffled up to a group of elementary-school-aged kids, who were all thrilled to see him. His tail wagged rapidly as he accepted pets and treats. A few of the parents waved to me, calling greetings and offering warm smiles.
I tipped my head at everyone, returning their smiles and “Good morning”s but didn’t have time to stop for a chat with any of them.
My vet had called to say there was an issue, so I’d come straight down to the big barn.
He and a few other staff had put up barriers to keep the visiting families from straying to the far end of the barn, which told me that one of my babies wasn’t feeling well.
Bip, Bop, and Boog hopped over, ready for their first round of scratches from me.
I paused long enough to give them each a rub on top of their head.
They were triplet Nigerian dwarf goats that had come to me when they were two months old.
A coyote had killed their momma, and they hadn’t survived unscathed.
Bip was missing an ear. Bop had a huge scar on his snout, and little Boog had had his back right leg savaged so badly that my vet eventually had to amputate half of it.
They were two years old now, barely twenty pounds each, but otherwise healthy and thriving.
Leo Shelton had graduated top of his program at Texas A definitely not because she had kissed my man!
—I’d figured Finn would stop the arrest. From my vantage point of that kiss Hilary had given him, I couldn’t tell if he’d wanted it.
Then he’d remembered me, and I wasn’t sure if he’d pushed her away and arrested her because she had actually attacked him with her lips…
or if he’d finally remembered me and was trying to keep the chaos to a minimum.
I’d gotten a little thrill when one of the staff had mentioned he’d put her in a jail cell.
One of my secret group chats had confirmed it.
Even if it had only been for a few hours before the district attorney had stepped in and dropped all the charges, keeping her from having to stand in front of a judge.
Which wasn’t all that surprising since the DA was Hilary’s cousin.
At least Finn had followed through, put her in time-out and made her think about her actions.
But now, that jerk showed up at my farm, walked into my barn with apples and roses, expecting to help out, and that would fix everything?
He hadn’t called me or stopped by my house.
He gave me no explanation.
No kiss good night.
Not even a text to sleep tight.
And he thought roses from that kiss-stealing strumpet’s shop were going to make up for any of that?