Page 66 of Home Hearts Hooves

“I still can’t believe you keep a pig in the house.”

“It was that or force Houdini to sleep with the pigs. Should we go?”

He opens the front door for me, and I reach to grab my hat from the hook. It’s like my arm goes there on instinct, but it’s dark and there is nothing sillier to see than a cowboy wearing his hat under the stars, so I pivot and grab my walking stick, still needing that for longer treks, and we walk together down along the lit path towards the outdoor cinema setup.

People are still walking down from where they’ve parked their cars up by the road. We close off the main gate when we hold these nights to prevent the additional noise and fumes from the exhausts from stirring up the animals. The noise from the chatter is unavoidable, but it will settle down once the movie starts. Mostly. Nial and the team have done an amazing job. It’s even better than last time. They’ve got cows in individual sections, lying on fresh hay beds with ranch guests and town visitors resting in there with them, and countless children with their parents sitting on rugs and blankets brought out from probably every room in the house. It’s a good thing Sally-May isn’t here for this or she’d have words to say about the inside furnishings being used out here. But it looks incredible.

The buttery popcorn scent drifts around us and my mouth waters as all the joy from childhood memories floods my mind.

“I love the smell of freshly popped popcorn,” I say, and he tilts his head a little and breathes in the buttery scent.

“Smells delicious. Should I get us some?”

“We can grab it together.”

“No, you should sit. You’ve probably been on your leg too much already today helping set everything up, I bet.”

I go to protest, but Nial appears at my side.

“Hey there, brother, Preston, your reserved seats are right this way,” he says, holding out one arm like an usher at a wedding.

“I was just going to grab us some popcorn,” Preston replies, turning away.

“That’s already taken care of. Everything is taken care of. You just have to follow me. Oh, and hand Cuddles over, too.”

Nial never holds Cuddles. He thinks the way we pander to him is ridiculous, but I lift the sash off my head with the pygmy goat comfortably relaxing inside and hand him over.

“Okay then,” he replies with a grin. “This way.”

I lean in close to Nial.

“Please don’t make this weird,” I beg him.

He chuckles.

“Trust me, brother. A goat hanging around my neck is as weird as it’s going to get.”

We walk behind Nial along the rows of other guests, and then past them completely. I’m just about to ask where the hell he’s taking us when I see Connor standing at the entry to the mini barn.

“What is this?” I ask and then Nial points up.

The mini barn isn’t really small. We call it the mini barn because when you compare it to the large one, it’s less than half the size, but it’s still about fifteen feet high and it has a lofted section where we store extra hay in the wetter months. Only right now the loft doors are open and a warm glow is radiating from up top.

“Your private suite is just up the stairs,” Nial says, biting his lower lip in a worrisome way like he only just remembered his brother is wearing a fucking boot on his leg.

“I’ll help,” Preston states, linking his arm in mine and leading me through the mini barn doors. The barn smells of dirt and fresh hay, and it’s enough to help steady my nerves and not faint into his arms at his touch.

“I brought over the stair ladder from the stables,” Connor says as we pass. “Atlas won’t mind; we’ll have it back there by morning.”

With most of the extra hay kept in the horse stable’s loft, the stair ladder makes getting up and down much easier as it has wide treads similar to the stairs in the house, and with Preston’s help, I manage to get myself up into the loft.

I can’t hold in my awe at what they’ve done. “Wow, this is amazing.”

Hay bales are stacked at the sides and back surrounding a thick dark blue patterned rug from the library back at the house. Battery lantern lights sit at various levels and throw a warm glow over the space, and there’s a large bucket of popcorn and a bottle of wine with two glasses resting beside it.

“It really is,” Preston agrees, and I lower myself down slowly, leaning on the hay bale for support.

“So, Doc,” I say, looking out at the movie screen. “I hope you like the classics.”

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