on the shirt, which was dusty and smelled like leather and horse, but I wasn’t particular at the moment. Buttoning it up just enough for it to stay closed, I started running again.
The cowboy brought his horse neatly around to head off Gordita and Taco. “Go right!” he yelled, in case I was an idiot who couldn’t figure out I needed to go the opposite way. “Get your dogs to help!”
The dogs were headed straight for me. I could see the whites of their eyes. Bear, the big, dumb coward, was moving as fast as I’d ever seen him.
I pointed to the house. “Go inside, guys! Go inside and I’ll give you a cookie!”
They knew “cookie,” and they knew that “inside” did not contain livestock. Lila, the smartest of the pack, gave an emphatic bark, and they made for the yard like greyhounds after a rabbit.
Most of the goats skipped after them, except Taco and Gordita. They seemed to consider the horse an awesome addition to their game of who-wants-to-be-barbecue-when-Amy-catches-us.
The pinto appeared to be enjoying the game, too, leaping and turning in the air to round up the stragglers, then working close to the ground, never letting them get around him. The cowboy seemed part of the horse, the way the pair worked together. I was a Texan, sure, but I was a city girl. This was new to me. I stood transfixed by the flex of the young man’s legs, the effortless shift of his weight as he controlled the horse, until the dust became too thick for me to appreciate details, only the overall aesthetic.
Taco and Gordita ran for the gate and I shook myself into action. Waving my arms—and looking, I’m sure, a hell of a lot less graceful than the rodeo ballet—I chased the goats into the yard and slammed the gate closed behind us. At the clang of the latch, the cowboy gave his horse some silent command and the pinto relaxed, blowing a deep breath of satisfaction.
No rest for me yet, not while the herd was chasing the dogs and eating Aunt Hyacinth’s zinnias. I ran to the pen and opened the feed bucket, banging the metal lid like a dinner gong. The goats trotted right in, as if they’d merely been for a stroll in the park. It was almost anticlimactic, in a way.
The cowboy had dismounted and followed me into the yard. He swung the gate of the goat pen closed, allowing me to slip out first. I latched it firmly, then leaned against the board fence, not knowing if I should laugh or cry, or just have hysterics and do both.
The dogs came running, their fear of the goats insufficient to outweigh their need for reassurance. Sadie spun in circles, and Bear, against all reason, wanted me to pick him up. Lila avoided the crowd and tried to get the cowboy to pet her.
Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. Wrestling with goats and dogs, wearing nothing but a stranger’s shirt over my underwear? If my mother had a crystal ball, she would be on her broom (figuratively speaking) and on her way over in a heartbeat.
Unable to look at him, I busied myself getting Bear and Lila to behave. “Sorry about the dogs. They weren’t much help.”
“They’re completely worthless,” he said, in an exasperated tone to which I could totally relate. “It’s a shepherd and a collie and a—” He floundered when he got to Bear. “I don’t even know what that one is.”
“None of us do.” I staggered as the hairy lummox bumped the back of my knee. “And they’re not worthless. Lila here, she’s a search-and-rescue dog.” He looked at the border collie trying to climb into my arms like a toddler and appeared unconvinced. I assured him, “Really. They, uh, just happen to be afraid of the goats.”
“Of course they are,” he said, with a long exhale of annoyance. I caught a whiff of spearmint under the stronger smells of leather and dog and dust. “Leave it to crazy Ms. Goodnight to have a bunch of chickenshit dogs on a ranch, for God’s sake.”
“Excuse me?” I’d been fixing to say something else. Another apology, another inanity, I didn’t know—the spearmint had distracted me. His tone, however, brought me up short, and my eyes narrowed to reevaluate him in the harsh sunlight.
He had just been pretty decent—gentlemanly, really, giving me his shirt and all. Up close I could see that he wasn’t soft enough to be cute. He was