The front tire of our pickup rolls through a deep pothole in Roy’s laneway, jerking my body.
“Crap!” I scowl at the splash of foamed soy milk on my track pants. I was already annoyed about being up this early.
Why am I doing this to myself again?
Roy appears at the opening to the barn with a rake in his one good hand, his face looking as battered and ashen as it did yesterday.
Right, that’s why I’m doing this.
Oscar and Gus charge out of the barn, barking. But the moment I hop out of the truck, they calm, coming in close enough to catch a sniff of my leg before darting off again.
“What are you doin’ here?” Roy grumbles.
I trudge forward. “Do you like strawberries?”
His gaze drops to the bowl in my grasp, narrowing. “Maybe.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s a yes or no answer, Roy.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “It’s been awhile but, yeah, I like ‘em. Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t, actually. And I have Colette’s entire patch growing in the garden. These are washed and hulled, ready to eat.” I hold out the bowl for him.
He stares at it another moment. Leaning the rake against the wall to free his one hand, he collects the bowl and sets it on a small table. Without so much as a thanks, I note. “You best be on your way, girl. I’ve got work to do.” With that, he turns and shuffles to the back of the barn, to the empty goat pen.
Arming myself with a deep breath and my conviction, I follow. “So, how often do you milk your goats?”
He glares at me. “Told you already, I don’t need your help.”
“Oh, I know. But we both know that Muriel is going to show up here one day soon to check on things, and if she finds out you’ve been sending me away, well … I guess you’ll have her here twice a day for the next month or two.”
Roy grunts. “That damn woman.”
“It’s her or me, but it’s going to be one of us, so take your pick.” I stared at our wooden ceiling for far too long last night, searching for today’s game plan on tackling Roy. The threat of Muriel seemed a guaranteed winner.
His sharp eyes drift over my red rubber boots. “Suit yourself. But don’t get in my way.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just hang back here. And enjoy your charm from afar.” I take a long, leisurely sip of my latte, in part to hide any trace of apprehension that may show on my face.
Heavy sarcasm will go one of two ways with Roy—very badly or very well. I’m hoping on the latter, given he admitted to being “a real SOB.”
The corners of his mouth twitch before he turns his back to me. “You must be real bored over there.”
I allow myself a small smile of victory.
* * *
“Okay, okay …” I unwind the wire that secures the latch to the animal pen. Zeke was kicking excitedly at the fence post when I rounded the corner, and Bandit had climbed up the chicken coop’s enclosure to sit on top of the roof. “Sorry I’m late. I was over at our friendly neighbor’s house.” Following Roy as he muttered and cursed and refused to let me even fill up a water bucket, all while grimacing in pain.
I prop open the gate with a brick, and Zeke immediately trots over to nip at the bear bell on my shoe. Bandit scurries closely after. With them free to roam, I hop back onto my ATV and head for the garden, a goat and a raccoon trailing me, bear spray in my holster. I’m hypervigilant of the surrounding forest for movement, now that I know of this brown bear. Perhaps that’s why I spot Oscar right away, sitting at the tree line, watching from afar, as if he’s been waiting there awhile.
He was at Roy’s when I left. He must have headed this way the moment my taillights vanished from sight.
I cut the ATV engine and climb off, but he makes no effort to approach, his sharp gaze flickering once to Zeke before shifting off away, uninterested.
He’s like a sentry, on guard for threats unseen.
I can’t help but smile. It’s ironic that this wolf dog terrorized me for months, slinking through the trees, and yet having him here now makes me feel safer.