Finding Home by Lois Greiman Read Free Book Online Page B

Angel to the barn and Dickenson was backing his rig up to the open gate of the cattle pen. In five minutes the area was filled with wild-eyed, milling horses.
    In six minutes she knew she was certifiably insane.

C HAPTER 6
    T he next forty-eight hours passed in a blur of sloppy drizzle, endless labor, and sleepless nights. The Lazy’s newborns were arriving at a furious pace. Clayton had believed it best to get the young stock on the ground early, making heavier livestock and better profits come fall. And maybe that had worked in his youth, but it was wearing Casie down to her shadow. On her third pasture check of the day she’d found another pair of unexpected lambs huddled against their mother’s damp sides. The old ewe hadn’t passed her afterbirth yet, but she looked strong and sassy. A stamped forefoot had warned Casie to keep her distance and given her hope that the old girl was healthy enough to handle things without medical intervention. Nevertheless, she shooed the trio into the sheep barn, sequestering them in a four-by-four-foot wooden pen. The confinement would solidify the family bond and give the babies a few much-needed hours out of the rain. After feeding them chopped green hay and painting them with corresponding numbers, Casie dragged herself into the house for a little nutrition of her own.
    It was seven o’clock in the evening by the time she headed back outside to finish up the day’s chores.
    Charged with viscous black coffee and sandwiches made from green-shelled eggs, Casie stepped into the cattle barn. Earlier in the week she had turned the cow/calf pairs out in the pasture, leaving the far side of the building empty. Inside it was dim and quiet. Still, there was enough light to make out Tyler’s gaunt shape inside Angel’s stall. His back was to the door as he leaned against the old mare’s left shoulder, arms wrapped around her weedy neck.
    Casie stopped in her tracks as a dozen half-forgotten feelings seeped into her soul, spurred on by aged memories and ragged instincts. How many times had she stood in that exact position, leeching courage and compassion from Chip’s comfortable presence? How many times had she needed the warmth and assurance? she wondered, but the boy straightened a little and she turned abruptly away, putting her back to him as she fumbled noisily for the light switch.
    By the time she faced inward again he was already stepping out of the stall.
    â€œOh! I didn’t see you there,” she lied.
    The boy lowered his brows at her. “I was just . . .” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “. . . gonna feed her.”
    â€œYeah?” She approached slowly. There was a faint, crescent-shaped bruise beneath his left eye. Curiosity melded uncomfortably with a couple emotions she didn’t care to acknowledge. “What happened to your face?”
    He shrugged, mouth pursed. “I’m just clumsy. That’s all.”
    â€œYou don’t seem clumsy,” she said and waited.
    For a moment she thought he wouldn’t respond, but he did. “A two-by-four fell out of the hayloft.”
    She stared at him, wondering. His cheeks looked a little flushed.
    â€œI tossed it up there to get it out of the way. It come down the same road before I moved aside,” he said.
    She watched him another second, then nodded. What else could she do? “You’re putting in a lot of hours around here.” He’d spent a good deal of time mending fences with her. “I’m sorry I can’t pay you for all of them.”
    He shrugged, jaw hard as granite. “Nobody never drowned in his own sweat.”
    She glanced toward the mare, hiding the tug of a smile his cowboy demeanor invoked. “You think she’s gaining any weight?”
    â€œLittle, maybe.” He seemed eager to move on to another topic. “You worm ’er?”
    â€œA few days ago.”
    â€œFor tapeworm,