Chapter Twelve
The week after Halloween was a great one.
I spent four nights out of seven with Aiden.
No one said dick about it when I stumbled in the following mornings, groggy but smiling.
The only one who commented was Bella, but it was soft little teases like a sister would poke fun at a brother.
Those I didn’t mind, even if they did make me stammer.
My brothers just gave me dorky looks or a poke in a hickey if they could see them.
Aiden loved to suck. I loved to be sucked.
Didn’t matter where on my body. If his mouth was on that patch of flesh, I was loving it.
The second best thing about the first week of November was watching Lady be freed from her stitches.
No stitches meant no more cone. I’d taken it upon myself to spend a few hours every day—when I wasn’t at Aiden’s sorting veterinary notes or having my brain sucked out via my dick—introducing Lady to the goats.
They weren’t too keen on having a dog in their pen.
Lady was very keen to try to push them all into one corner, her belly dragging on the ground, as I held the end of the check cord.
After relaying her natural drive to herd to Aiden, he set up the meeting that was taking place this morning.
Bill Long, a breeder of cattle dogs who lived nearby, was coming out with Aiden to watch Lady.
Not that training a cattle dog was anything like training a sheepdog.
They both worked their herds differently, according to my internet research.
Cattle dogs drive cows aggressively, barking and nipping heels to get the cattle to move, and work far away from their owners.
Sheepdogs tend to gather their charges, are silent, and work closely with their handlers.
So his knowledge of a sheep-herding dog was limited, but Aiden felt it might be good to have him see Lady and give us his thoughts.
Plus, Bill was a nice guy, according to Aiden, and someone I should know.
When I saw their trucks rolling up early Sunday morning, my heart thudded nervously.
Lady was chilling outside the goat pen. She jumped to her feet, filled with her usual energy, and darted off to cautiously greet the strangers.
“Morning,” Aiden called as I exited the barn.
I whistled sharply. Lady jogged over to me, happy as a lark, and sat beside me after I gave her a soft command.
Bill and Aiden walked over to us. Aiden gave me a kiss before introducing me to the tall, burly man in a worn denim jacket and jeans at his side.
“Ford, this is Bill Long, one of the finest breeders of Red Merles in the state. Bill, this is my good friend, Ford Bastian.”
“Nice to meet you, Ford. I know your brother Baker well,” Bill said, his voice deep as a canyon. “Had the pleasure of waking up one morning to find him sleeping one off on my front porch wearing pumps and a sash reading Miss Bastian Grange.”
“Lies, all lies,” Baker called as he came up behind our guests with Granny on his arm. Bella and Linc were with them. Hanley had left to take pictures of black bears in Canada and would be gone until the night before Thanksgiving. Bill shook everyone’s hands and then turned to me.
“So, I hear this dog of yours has some herding drive. Care to show me what she can do?” Bill said after about ten minutes of light chitchat. “Keep in mind, I know cattle dogs and not sheepdogs, but I can aid you in basic training.”
“That’ll be a great help,” I said, hooking Lady to her lead, and walked her into the goat pen.
Willy was instantly on guard. He was the only one in the herd who liked to stand up to the dog for as long as his bravado would last. Basic survival instincts always kicked in after a perfunctory head lowering and solo charge at the predator.
No matter how brave Willy wanted the does to think he was, his need to live was stronger than his need to show off.
The moment Lady entered the pen, she switched into a different mindset.
She hunkered down low, her sight locked on the goats milling about at the far end of the large pen.
Her muscles twitched. “Steady,” I said as I let out a few feet of leash.
My family stood at the fence, watching intently, Bella wearing one of Linc’s massive coats, which was cute as hell and told me a lot about where her head was.
Same place as mine when I thought of Aiden.
Even knowing we shouldn’t be drawn to these men, there we were, wearing their coats, or in my case, their love marks.
I turned to look at Bill watching Lady closely.
“I only know a few commands from watching a Scottish sheep farmer on YouTube, but she’s so smart.
She picks them up fast, and some, I think, she may have known? ”
“Could be she’s just instinctively driven to herd but needed a firm partner to guide her. You’ll want to watch any nipping she may try, as that’s not behavior for a sheep or goat herding dog to engage in, and redirect her to acceptable ways of gathering the flock.”
I nodded. Bill was very smart. We circled the goats, Lady bringing them in closer and tighter.
We worked on basic commands such as come by and away to me, and she picked them up somewhat well.
It would take time. At the end of her cord, she finally got the goats packed into a corner.
“Wait,” I called. She lay down. Not the proper response, since I wanted her to just hold her position, but that could be worked on as well.
After about forty minutes, I called her back with a brisk ‘That’ll do,’ just like the Scotsman on the internet did, and she bounded back to me.
I dug her favorite toy, one of my old socks tied into a knot, from my coat pocket.
She was thrilled with it and the heaps of praise I gave her as we made our way back to the fence.
“That was so great!” Bella clapped her hands before handing Lady a dog treat through the fence.
“That dog there has got some good blood in her,” Granny announced with pride. I grinned widely as if I’d been the one to birth the dog or something. “Why don’t we all go inside? I got some coffee and muffins waiting. Bill, your wife still got you on a Keto diet?”
“We are, sadly, but if you don’t tell Penny I had a muffin, then I won’t either,” Bill said with a wink at Granny. We made our way inside. Coffee and muffins were about gone when Dodge, Ollie, and Dahn showed up.
“Did we miss her training show?” Dahn asked as he raced into the laundry room where Lady was stretched out in front of the dryer on an old throw rug.
I could hear the boy giggling madly as Lady slathered him with kisses.
That dog did love that boy. They had the same energy output, Dodge liked to say.
“Sorry, yeah,” I called into the laundry room as Aiden, seated to my left, placed his arm on the back of my chair.
Baker took note but said nothing, just passed the three remaining muffins to Ollie as Dodge poured himself and his man some coffee at the counter.
“Bill said she did well. We can work with her later, after chores at the goat barn.”
“You can work on her more after church,” Granny interjected.
Linc made a sound, and he got him a stern look from Granny.
The big man immersed himself in plucking muffin crumbs from his beard.
“I’m doing a pot roast with all the fixings for Sunday dinner.
Aiden, you’re more than welcome to eat with us.
I worry you’re not getting enough to eat since you got to feast on Ford’s poor neck all the time. ”
My cheeks went red instantly. Aiden, calm as a cuke, gave my earlobe a tug then turned his sights on Granny as the others all tittered.
“I suppose all your grandsons are tasty,” he tossed out.
“I second that,” Ollie said as he sat down beside Dodge, who gave him a playful swat.
“I mean, look at you,” Aiden went on, giving Granny the full force of all that charm of his. “I bet you were edible when you were a young thing sowing your oats out in Las Vegas.”
Granny batted her thin, silver lashes. “Trust me, I could have taught all of you boys a thing or two about nibbling on sweet meat. I recall a night in ’64 when I found myself in the company of a man who did contortions as an opening act for Wayne Newton.
That man could bend himself into positions that were illegal in fifteen states. ”
Everyone at the table nearly choked on their coffee. Dahn exited the laundry room, Lady at his side, his hair a mess from doggie love.
“What’s a Wayne Newton? Is that like an old-time cookie?” Dahn asked, which set Granny off into hysterics.
Since I also had no idea who Wayne Newton was, I added the name to my research mental list and settled back into my chair to enjoy the weight of Aiden’s arm resting on my shoulder.
***
As a huge frost moon climbed high into the night sky, I was with Aiden.
At his home. On his sofa. Eating roasted beef sandwiches and French fries as I researched important herding dog facts. I lagged behind in devouring the food he’d cooked as I was deep into trying to find a trainer nearby. I’d not been having luck.
“Do you think I should have her spayed before or after I start training her to gather goats?” I asked as I nibbled on a fat, homemade fry dripping au jus down my chin. He ran a thumb under my lip to gather the beef juice. I glanced over to see him suck the droplet off his thumb. Okay, that was hot.
“I doubt it will make much of a difference. Perhaps she’ll be more focused on training if she’s not dealing with heat cycles,” he replied, letting his hand fall to the back of my neck. He began rubbing my nape with sure, strong fingers.
“Okay, that makes sense. Can you do it, or should I take her to the small animal hospital?”