Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Julian used to help Uncle Luke flip houses, so he’s pretty good with his hands,” Sienna said as she began herding the goats in the free stall. The products she created using their milk colostrum were popular in Cottonwood Creek. Especially the creams and soaps. Thus the idea of having her cousin help us with a bigger project this summer.
“I remember.” I turned on the suction machine, then hand-milked Butter’s teats to strip away any residual dirt before getting her set up with the suction device. “But traveling across the country is a bit much, don’t you think?”
I was pretty certain my brother Travis would help if I asked. I might’ve been on the outs with my family since Sienna and I divorced, but Travis had come around since then, and my parents would always be part of Ainsley’s life. So they’d support anything that helped our small business bring in revenue. After I came out, Dad had warned me to lie low in the community, as gossip spread like wildfire. He didn’t want it to hurt the business. But Sienna and I had been on our own for a few years now, and any rumors we’d initially heard were pretty much old-hat. We still got some stares and whispers when we went into town, but by now everyone knew Sienna and I had remained friends and were staying on the farm together for the sake of our family.
As far as I could tell, my gayness hadn’t wrecked anything that had to do with my family’s cattle trade, and locals loved the organic milk products our dairy farm sold to the businesses in town.
But Sienna’s idea of creating our own country store on the property was something entirely different, and it was hard to predict how well it might be received.
“We already have too much to do around here, and could certainly use the help,” Sienna replied, pulling up a stool and a bucket of grain for the goats’ breakfast. Right then, Lucy, our most vocal goat, angled her head and bleated, anxious to eat as Sienna sprinkled the feed on the ground and they jostled for position.
Sienna lifted a baby goat and brought it closer to her lap. She’d bottle-feed the young ones while the mommas ate, then would milk them, as was her routine. She loved having the goats around, and Ainsley did too, especially because they could be pretty entertaining—at least Ainsley thought so. I wasn’t so happy when one of my hats went missing, and to this day, I still suspected Lucy ate it, simply because she tried to consume everything.
“Don’t repeat this, but Mom hinted that maybe Julian is a bit…lost right now.” Sienna winced, as if sorry to have voiced it out loud. “Coming home after such a long deployment isn’t easy, and Aunt Melinda thinks Julian could use a break from the city.”
Plus, he was a combat veteran. If I had all the details right, he’d been to Afghanistan on two tours of duty and was nearly blown to pieces by a roadside bomb. Some heavy shit. Damn, the guy had probably seen more than he ever wanted to in his lifetime. Anything I’d ever done—which mostly consisted of rounding up cattle on horseback at the Carmichael Ranch—would pale in comparison.
“Besides, he’s family,” Sienna added, bringing me out of my thoughts.
I shrugged. I supposed I would always consider the North family relatives, even if it wasn’t by blood nor law, not anymore. I had known Sienna my whole life, and she was definitely still considered family by my parents and siblings, even after our divorce. Besides, our daughter tied us all together, and I’d never have it any other way. She was the most important person in the world to me and always would be.
“Tell Julian he’s more than welcome.” The North family might’ve lived clear across the country, but Aunt Melinda had been raised in this town, even if she decided not to leave roots. Guess I don’t blame her. But looking out the barn door at the line of cottonwood trees just beyond the horse paddock, I acknowledged that despite everything, Wyoming was in my blood, and I’d be just as lost as Julian if I was ever forced to leave—not that Julian was forced, but his injuries had sidelined him for good. At least that was the way I’d heard it.
“Gonna take care of the chickens, so holler if you need me,” I said, padding toward the door. “C’mon, Phoebe.”
Phoebe was our pink pig, and when she waddled after me, I knew Hamlet, Phoebe’s counterpart in everything but coloring—he was a deep ebony—wouldn’t be too far behind.
I could almost hear my brother Hunter’s voice in my head. What does anyone want with a couple of useless pigs?
But taking in the litter runts from another farm last year had been the right decision for us, and they had become part of our family.