Page 21 of Ruffled Feathers

But first, I had a promise to keep.

Ten

Edison

My captain at the station hadn’t been happy when I’d told him I needed to take a few weeks’ leave, but considering I hadn’t had even taken a single sick day over the last three years, he’d eventually relented.

I didn’t think I needed to be here at the house, but that didn’t mean I didn’twantto be here. I’d picked up a giant bag of carrots from the grocery store and was currently bribing the goats away from my mom’s azaleas. They were greedy little bastards, and two of the three were currently running at me like a stampede.

As I snapped a carrot in half, it made a louder than usual cracking sound. One of the goats let out a fearful bleat, went stiff, and fell over. I waited for it to stand back up, but nothing happened. A minute went by, and it stayed prone on the ground.

Fuck.

“Oh shit… Oh fuck!” I rushed over, but it was like the animal had rigor mortis. “Please tell me you’re a fainting goat, and don’t have some kind of neurological disorder,” I muttered, trying to put the goat back on its feet, but it just toppled to the side again. Its little friend seemed completely uninterested in the fact itscompatriot was having a medical episode, just fishing a whole carrot out of the bag that I’d dropped.

“Come on, little guy. Get up,” I hissed, but it was literally immobile and unblinking. Did it have epilepsy? Was it a Russian sleeper spy, and I’d just activated it with a carrot snap?

Fuck, five minutes, and I’ve already killed one of Tillie’s pets.Maybe I needed to go back to work, where I could stay out of the way.

“Do I need to take you to the vet?” I asked the goat, like it would answer me.

What was the acronym for resuscitating a goat? Was it the same as for a human? They’d drilled the ABCs into us at the academy—it couldn’t be that different, right? It was still a mammal.

A was for airways, but I couldn’t pry the goat’s mouth open without sticking my thumbs at the back of its snout. It was gross, but I had to try. What if it was choking on a piece of carrot, or maybe it had been poisoned by azaleas? Should I Google if they were poisonous to goats?

I couldn’t see anything lodged, and I could feel its hot breath, so I thought it was probably breathing and didn’t need mouth-to-mouth. Probably ruled out compressions too.

There was a choking noise behind me, and I spun to see an amused-looking Tillie. Guilt washed over me. “I think I injured your goat. Can they eat azaleas? How do you check a goat for poisoning?”

She looked beautiful today, in tight, faded jeans with a hole in the knee, and a white camisole that showed the golden tan of her skin. She wasn’t dressed up, or dressed down. She just looked like everyday Tillie, and that’s what made wanting her so damn hard.

I gave her a stern look. “Don’t stand there and laugh! What if something’s really wrong with it?”

Shaking her head, she patted me on the back. “The only thing wrong with Scaramouche is that you’re traumatizing the hell out of her by sticking your fingers in her mouth. If you just step over here for a minute…” She led me a few feet away, then after a few seconds, the damn goat perked right up.

“For fuck’s sake. Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” I muttered at the goat, who happily joined its friend. “Wait, did you say its name is Scaramouche? What kind of name is that?”

She shrugged. “Her friend over there is Beelzebub, and over near the fountain is Fandango. She just doesn’t like people very much.”

“Their names are Scaramouche, Fandango, and Beelzebub? Whatever happened to Daisy and Milly?”

Rolling her eyes at me, Tillie went over and scratched Beelzebub behind its floppy ears, as it chewed on the pilfered carrots. “Boring. Life’s too short for that.”

I kept a wide berth from the goats. Obviously, they weren’t my biggest fans, and I’d traumatized Scaramouche enough for one day. Or maybe she’d traumatized me. “I’ve taken a few weeks off work. I was due some holiday leave, and it looks like you could use a hand.”

She gave me a stubborn look that I knew all too well. “I can handle my responsibilities just fine.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “So can I.”

“I’m not your responsibility,” she snapped, and I lifted my hands.

“Whoa, I never said you were.”

She let out a frustrated noise. “But you insinuated it. Don’t gaslight me, butthead.”

I sighed, because she was right. I was fucking this up. “Otillie-James, you are the most capable person I know. I’m kind of glad you’re a good person, because I have no doubt that if you had a villain origin story, you could’ve raised an army to bringdown nations by now.” She frowned at me, but I saw the corners of her lips twitch up. “Honestly, I need a break. Plus, I did a head count, and Tillie, you havethirty-seven animalshere. You need help, and that’s okay.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got Lance.”

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