Page 67 of Chasing Shelter

“I’m not so sure,” Fallon mumbled.

I wanted to ask more but sensed it was a sore subject, so I tried to guide us out of it. “I also want to take a yoga class at that studio I saw in town. Want to do that with me?”

Fallon brightened, just like I’d hoped. “I’ve heard it’s really good. It’s new. I’m in. As long as we get brunch after.”

“I like the way you think.”

As we reached the final stalls, I heard a sound. A soft and slightly sad bleat. I turned, trying to find the source. That’s when I saw it.

A goat was tied to the very last farmer’s stall, looking sad and forlorn as the farmer talked to a customer. As I moved closer, I saw aFor Salesign above the goat’s little patch of hay. Beneath it readFinal Offer.

I frowned. Selling a goat at a farmer’s market didn’t really seem like a great idea. How could you know it would go to a good home?

I found myself making a beeline for the animal. I didn’t know the first thing about goats, but I crouched low, holding out a hand for it to sniff as Grem’s little head popped out of the sling to investigate. The goat licked me, and I grinned.

“Hi, little one,” I cooed, scratching beneath its chin.

“You lookin’ for a goat?” the man behind the stall asked, a wad of chewing tobacco in his lip.

“No, not really.”

“Shame,” he muttered.

I glanced up at the sign again. “What doesfinal offermean?”

“Means she’s going to slaughter if she don’t get sold today.”

My eyes widened as a sick feeling rolled through me. And then I felt my mouth saying the words before I heard them. “I’ll take her.”

I tuggedon the worn lead rope Ethan the farmer had given me alongside enough feed to get me through my first week as a goat owner, but my new goat friend would not be moved.

“Come on, buddy. Please?” I begged.

If any of my neighbors saw me right now, they’d probably think I was completely unhinged. And maybe I was. I’d gotten Gremlin inside and come back out for my new goat. A goat I was appalled to discover didn’t have a name. I was going to give her one, but I needed to know what fit her personality first.

I gave the lead rope a little slack. “Come on. There’s a whole lot of grass in the backyard. Don’t you want to eat some?”

No movement.

Frustration bloomed. She was too heavy for me to carry her. I’d learned that while lifting her out of the back of my SUV. I was pretty sure my back would pay the price for that for the rest of the week.

“How about some of this?” I coaxed, pulling some feed out of my pocket and offering it to her.

She sniffed the air but didn’t come any closer.

I straightened and tried tugging again, harder this time. I put all my weight into trying to get the goat to move.

Nothing.

I walked behind her and tried shoving from the rear, attempting to get her to walk through the open gate. The goat kicked back, getting me right in the shin.

I howled in pain, hopping around and spilling some very creative curses like, “Son of a goat nugget,” and “Damn it all to hay bales.”

A throat cleared from behind me, and I stilled, slowly turning around.

I was greeted by Trace, who seemed to somehow be both pissed off and amused all at once. “What exactly is a son of a goat nugget?”

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