18. Sophie #2
She turned. She wasn’t smiling, and the look on her face, which could only be described as the someone has died look, had my guts twist. Like she’d already cried about this before I got here.
“What’s going on?” I asked her. My voice came out smaller than I’d intended, as though some part of me already knew I wasn’t going to like the answer.
Bandit spotted me, and his tiny ears perked straight up. He let out an enthusiastic little bleat before trotting toward me with complete confidence.
“Bandit.” I crouched automatically. He reached me in seconds, pushing his little head into my stomach like he’d done a hundred times before. I laughed softly, despite the strange feeling growing in my chest, and wrapped one arm around his neck. “Well… good morning to you too.”
His tail wagged so hard his whole backside bounced. If happiness were measured in tail velocity, this little goat would’ve powered half the town.
Dottie watched quietly. “He’s been waiting for you.” She folded her hands together in front of her apron, blinking suspiciously hard as though she was trying not to get emotional.
I looked up. “He was?” That did all kinds of things to my insides. And my head. And, annoyingly, my eyeballs, which suddenly seemed determined to become much shinier than necessary.
“Yes.” She smiled sadly. “He kept walking over to the gate. Looking.” She glanced toward the opening in the fence. “Every few minutes, like he thought you’d be coming back.”
A lump settled in my throat. “You’re a good boy, Bandit. And I’m really going to miss you.” My eyes burned, surprising me, and I blinked fast.
The handler cleared his throat politely.
“I should probably get moving.” He was a stocky man in his late fifties.
He climbed down from the livestock trailer, adjusting the brim of his faded ball cap.
He had a sun-weathered face, wore work boots, and had the kind of hands that had spent a lifetime fixing fences and hauling feed.
He looked like someone who’d delivered difficult news before and never particularly enjoyed doing it.
I looked toward the trailer. “Already?” The word came out sounding far more disappointed than I’d intended. “I thought,” I swallowed. “I thought I’d have more time with them.” A week would have been nice. A month would have been better.
He shook his head. “Festival’s over.”
Something about how simply he said it made my chest tighten. “Right.” I reached down and scratched Bandit behind one floppy ear. “So you’ll all be off somewhere else. To make others laugh and fall in love with you guys. Huh?” I smiled at Bandit, but it felt wobbly around the edges.
The man hesitated and shook his head. “Not exactly.” He shifted his weight, looking almost uncomfortable now, as though he knew what came next wasn’t going to land well.
I looked at him. “What do you mean?” Something cold settled in the pit of my stomach.
“They’re going to auction,” he said.
I frowned. “Auction?” The word didn’t make sense sitting beside Bandit. Auction belonged to old furniture and antique teapots. Not floppy ears and wagging tails.
He nodded. “They cost too much to keep feeding.”
For a second, I thought I’d misunderstood. “What? You can’t be serious.” Surely there had to be another trailer somewhere. Another farm. Another explanation that didn’t make my stomach feel like it had just fallen down an elevator shaft.
“The festival season’s finished.” He shrugged, not unkindly, just practical, like this was just part of his job. “After this, they go through the livestock auction.” He said it gently, but that somehow didn’t make the words hurt any less.
My eyes moved slowly from him… to Bandit.
Who was currently trying to climb into my lap despite weighing considerably more than lap-sized animals should.
He looked up at me with those ridiculous golden eyes, completely trusting, completely happy, and entirely unaware that everyone else seemed to be making plans for the rest of his life except him.
The man smiled faintly. “Goats sell.” He said it the way someone might say, “The sky’s blue.” Just another ordinary fact of life. Practical. Simple. Completely unaware that he’d just shattered my entire emotional stability before seven thirty in the morning.
My throat tightened. I looked toward Theo. “And the alpacas?” Theo had wandered over beside Daisy now, his long neck stretched curiously in our direction, looking for all the world like he expected this conversation to end with treats instead of existential despair.
“The alpacas too.”
My eyes found the little donkey. “What about him?” He’d ambled over at his own unhurried pace, his ears flicking lazily, looking blissfully unconcerned with the future.
“Him too.”
Silence. The sounds of the morning suddenly seemed strangely far away. Birds. Truck engines. The trailer door. Someone fastening a latch. Even the breeze seemed quieter somehow, like the whole world had politely stepped back to let my heart break in peace. Very considerate. Terrible timing.
“Where do they go?” I asked, a knot already forming in my stomach.
The man shrugged. “Depends who buys.” Another shrug. Not cold. Not careless. Just honest. He’d probably answered this question a hundred times before. Unfortunately, this happened to be my first.
I felt my body go still. “They could end up anywhere?”
“Could be hobby farms,” answered the man. “Could be breeders.” He glanced toward the trailer. “Could be meat.”
Meat.
The word hit me like someone had punched me square in the chest. “No…” My voice barely came out. “No,” I repeated, like somehow that would make a difference.
Dottie sniffed, looking like she was on the verge of a serious cry. She pressed her lips together so tightly they nearly disappeared, one hand rubbing absentmindedly across Theo’s neck as though she needed the comfort as much as he did.
Bandit nudged my hand. Completely unaware of what was happening.
He flopped one soft ear against my wrist and looked up at me with complete trust. They had no idea.
Not one of them. They weren’t worried about auctions or buyers or what tomorrow looked like.
They were worried about breakfast and ear scratches.
I looked back at the handler. “They don’t stay together?” I heard the hope in my own voice before I could stop it—tiny, ridiculous, and clinging desperately to the idea that at least they’d have each other.
He shook his head. “No guarantee. They’re usually sold separately. Easier that way.” His expression softened a little. “Sometimes they end up together. Sometimes they don’t.” Somehow, the word sometimes managed to be even crueler than no.
I stared at Bandit. His little tail wagged happily while he leaned against my legs, completely trusting that everything was exactly as it should be.
Theo wandered over and rested the side of his fluffy head against my shoulder with his usual shameless confidence while Daisy and the donkey stood just behind them, watching.
They’d spent yesterday making children laugh, stealing hearts, causing minor property damage, and dramatically improving my mental health.
It seemed profoundly unfair that none of them got a vote in what happened next.
Something inside of me broke and then changed. The same part of me had somehow looked at a complete stranger in a sheriff’s uniform and thought, Yes, let’s kiss him.
That part of my personality was awake again.
I couldn’t let this happen. Absolutely not.
Not my Bandit. Not Theo or Daisy or the little donkey that still needed a name.
I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do yet.
Which, admittedly, had never stopped me before.
Most of my biggest decisions seemed to arrive several minutes before the accompanying common sense.
I reached down and wrapped one arm around Bandit’s neck. He leaned happily into the hug, as though he’d been expecting it. As though, in his tiny goat brain, everything was exactly as it should be because I’d shown up.
And somewhere deep inside of me, a very dangerous idea began to form.