toward the barn. He’s explaining the mix-up with the cat, sweetly describing it as an honest mistake, though I’m certain I’ve made an utter fool of myself.
“Watch your step,” Kathryn says, catching my elbow. I glance down to see a huge, round puddle of—
“Oh.” I take a step back. “That’s what they mean by ‘cow patty’?”
“Bingo.” Kathryn laughs. “We’re a little short-staffed. I gave one of the ranch hands the week off to be with his new daughter.”
“Duncan’s wife finally had the baby?” Bradley asks.
“Can you believe it? More than two weeks past her due date. They were getting ready to induce when her water broke.”
I’m amazed by the casual ease of their conversation. I was there when Bree went into labor, so I’m not completely ignorant of the openness with which Americans discuss childbirth. Still, it’s foreign to me.
“My sister went into labor in the middle of a wedding.” I hope it’s okay to share this. “She stayed through the reception because she didn’t want to miss anything.”
Kathryn laughs. “Bree, right? I heard about that. It was at James and Lily’s ceremony.”
Bradley rolls his eyes at that. “Nothing’s a secret in a small town.”
I force myself to keep smiling, to put one boot in front of the other as we approach the barn door. “It was such a beautiful wedding.”
“It’s a terrific venue.” Kathryn pulls open the barn door and waves us through. “We looked into having Julia’s ceremony there, but the resort hadn’t opened yet.”
I’m on the brink of asking about Julia’s wedding when I recall what Bradley told me. His sister, Julia, she’s the one with the ex-husband Bradley threatened to castrate.
I clamp my mouth shut and resolve not to pry.
“Here we are.” Kathryn dusts her hands on her jeans and smiles. “We’ve got five hundred head of cattle on this ranch, but this barn here is only for fosters.”
“Fosters?” I’m wondering if this is another animal I’ve never heard of, like a Maine Coon.
“Mom works with the Sheriff’s Department in seizure situations,” Bradley explains. “When someone with animals goes to jail, or in cases of abuse or neglect, they need a safe place for those animals to stay.”
“It started as a hobby, but it’s truly the thing that’s kept me sane after Jordy died.”
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to guess Jordy must be Bradley’s dad. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you, dear.” Kathryn smooths her hair back. “Ready to see some animals?”
“Yes, please.” I’m practically bouncing on my heels as I survey the brightly-lit barn. There’s an open door on one end, letting in bright slabs of dusty sunshine. In the corner, there’s a pen filled with clucking chickens. Just outside, I spot a pond shimmering silver and green with a trio of white ducks paddling over breeze-stirred ripples.
“These guys just came in last week.” Kathryn leads us to a pen on the opposite side of the barn. It’s filled with four of the tiniest goats I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many goats.
I step forward, delighted by their oddly-slitted pupils. “Are they babies?”
“Nope, fully grown Nigerian dwarf goats.” She stoops down to pet a brown and white one, who makes quick work of trying to eat her sleeve. “They were awfully skinny when they got here, but we’ll have them fat and healthy in no time.”
Cautiously, I stretch out a hand to scratch behind the nubby horns of a white and brown goat. The animal leans into my touch, lips curling up as it tries to get a taste of my finger. I laugh and draw my hand back. “They’re so cute.”
“We had pygmy goats growing up.” Bradley leans down and scratches a tan one, his long, agile fingers making me envy a goat for the first time in my life. “They eat everything.”
“Remember those Nubian goats that used to fight all the time?” Kathryn looks at me and smiles. “We had to put pool noodles on their horns so they couldn’t hurt each other.”
I laugh and swivel my gaze to a pen of sheep nearby. At least, I think they’re sheep. “Why are they wearing jackets?”
Kathryn glances to where I’m pointing. “They came from a yarn farm that’s under investigation for—well, I’m actually not at liberty to share that. But that helps keep the wool clean for when it’s time to process the fiber.”
“Sheep are the world’s messiest eaters.” Bradley scratches the neck of a plump white goat. “Learned that one the hard way when I raised a pair for 4H.”
“You were