Thankfully, no sign of Carolina or trouble.
Since then, we’ve divided the tribe up on a couple small jobs they’re working simultaneously.
The first place we stop at belongs to a young couple, where the goats are busy clearing out a fenced-in area for their sheep. As we pull in, the husband and wife are standing near the barn door, giving friendly waves.
The building needs plenty of work, but I can see these two turning the place into their hobby farm dream in no time.
“Hello, hello!” the wife shouts. She’s a petite woman with curly black hair.
“Morning, folks!” Owl leaps out behind me after I park. “Just stopped by to check on our friends. How’re they doing?”
“Hungry little guys! They’re doing fine, though,” the husband answers, leading us toward the barn. He’s tall with a shaved head. “Until a few minutes ago, I guess. We heard a big crash and ran out here. They knocked down the back door, and now they’re all inside the barn.”
“Oh, crap. I’m so sorry.” I glance up at the blue sky, noting a thick cluster of clouds on the horizon.
I should’ve known.
“It’s going to rain,” I say flatly.
Husband and wife look at each other, then at me, like I’ve just lost my mind.
Hard to blame them.
My weather prediction wouldn’t have made any sense to me a week ago, either. Not before Quinn Faulkner and a gate over a ditch gave me a lesson I’ll never forget about goats and rainstorms.
“They can sense it coming,” I tell them as Owl trots ahead to the barn door and I gesture at the clouds rolling in briskly. “They like to take cover and stay dry before any big storms roll in.”
“Really?” the husband asks. “Well, that explains a thing or two.”
“For sure. And I hope they didn’t do too much damage to the barn door.” I hold my breath.
We’re insured, but dealing with goat-caused property damage doesn’t seem the least bit fun.
“Nah, no problem, that thing was already about to fall right off. We just hurried out here when we heard the commotion because we didn’t want them breaking down this door. It’s not in much better condition, but we thought they might escape.”
“No, they’ll stay put until the rain stops, usually.” I nod toward the door, which only has one hinge. “Hey, I can help you secure that door, though, just to be on the safe side.”
“Thanks, ma’am, but I can secure it just fine,” the man tells me. “It’s good knowing what spooked them to take cover, though.”
“We’ll keep that in mind if we ever get our own herd one fine day.” His wife laughs. “We’re learning more about real-life heartland farming every day. We did our time on the organic farms as WWOOFers in Hawaii, but this is pretty different.”
“I’m learning too,” I admit. “So, besides breaking into the barn, did they clean everything up?”
“They’re doing great so far! Looks like they have a little left, but you can leave them overnight if you want. The kids love watching them, and they’re pestering us to get a couple of our own once we’re ready for some animals.” The woman smiles at the man. “If we left it up to the kids, this place would be like Noah’s Ark.”
Her hubby nods. “I’m gonna grab a hammer and some nails before the rain hits. Thanks for stopping by,” he tells me. “We appreciate it.”
“Call if you need anything or have more trouble with them,” I tell him.
After visiting with the woman for a few more minutes, I whistle for my dog and we leave.
My mind shifts to the other goats as the rain picks up, hitting the windshield in fat waves.
The ones back at a rental cabin have trees to gather under, but the farmer with the empty lot worries me. I’d left him three goats, and he’d just had an old corn crib leveled, leaving almost nothing except overgrown brush and weeds.
I give him a quick call. Fortunately, the man tells me they’re just fine after taking shelter in an old storage shed with a tin roof.
While we’re talking, I think about the clothes I bought this morning, and if I’ll go to the rodeo.
I’ll never hear the end of it from Gran if I don’t.
But I also wonder…would Quinn ever ask me on a real date?
It’s silly. I don’t even know if he’s a rodeo kinda guy.
I’ll go if he asks, but if he doesn’t, I’ll skip it.
Silly, I said.
And it’s extra silly that he’s stuck on an endless loop of handsome enigma in my brain.
I’d purposefully stepped closer to him more than once at his place, especially while we were working on the swing.
If he was interested…
Let’s just say he had ample opportunity for a kiss.
At one point, I’d thought it might happen when we sat on the swing together. His gaze was glued to the stars for most of the conversation, this far-off look in his bottomless green eyes.