Page 93 of A Rancher's Vow
She batted down the tight knot in her belly. Today was about taking new steps forward. Go forth and do the right thing, tallyho, and full speed ahead.
Chin lifted, a bounce in her step, she pushed open the door to the office and jerked to a stop. “Shit.”
A goat stood on her desk.
The grey and white beast had a very debonair look to him, with a neat little beard and a black bow tie. But he was agoat, and on her desk.
Charity folded her arms over her chest. “You know, two weeks ago I might have run screaming from the room. But now? You’re just one more box to check off on a long list of ‘didn’t see that one coming.’” She snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor. “Get down.”
Patchwork Annie looked up at her in confusion, uncertain if her butt should be up or down.
“Not you, sweet thing, the goat.” Charity eyed the beast. She could walk to the side with the door open and get Annie to chase the goat from the room. But that would leave the creature running loose in the barn—probably not a good idea.
Instead, Charity backed up and closed the door, locking the goat in before sending up a shout. “Hello? Anyone around? Tucker? Any of the hands?”
She peeked down both of the main hallways off the office, but nothing.
“Hello? I need some animal help.”
“Hey.”
A feminine voice rang from behind her, and Charity whirled. “Oh, Emma. Hi.”
“Hi.” The teenager stepped forward, her motion such a combination of Caleb’s saunter and Tamara’s get-it-done strut that Charity had to smile. “What’s up?”
“Oh, I have a small infestation in the office I need a hand with.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Mice?”
“A teeny bit bigger. Try goat.”
The teenager snorted. “Oh, drat.Them.”
“Maybe infestation is too dramatic a word since it’s only one goat,” Charity admitted.
“Oh, you’re not being dramatic at all,” Emma assured her as she pointed back down the hall to the office and started the return trip. “Eeny is an entire troop of trouble, all by himself.”
“Oh good, you know his name.”
“Chances are high. Was the door open?”
“Closed.”
Emma nodded, hand on the doorknob. “Definitely Eeny. He’s our escape artist. Trouble is, once he knows how to get in or out, the next thing you know…”
She pushed open the door, and suddenly a chorus ofbahhhhsgreeted them.
Three pairs of bright eyes set in bearded grey faces turned toward the door. One goat on the desk, number two was perched on the top of the filing cabinet. The final one balanced on the seat of Charity’s chair.
That was going too far. She folded her arms again. “I doubt you guys are planning on doing my paperwork, so I’d like my office back, please.”
Emma grinned, even as she gestured Charity forward then carefully closed the door behind them. She eyed Patchwork Annie, but as usual, the dog seemed content to remain at Charity’s heels.
“Don’t want them escaping in a direction I can’t control,” Emma explained when Charity lifted a brow. The teenager paused. “Are you comfortable holding a rope if I give it to you? They won’t bite or kick once I’ve gotten them on leads.”
“I think I’ll be okay. They’re not nearly as big as the horses.”
“They make up in annoyance factor what they lack in stature,” Emma joked.
