Page 12 of Shelter for the Mountain Man
“Not everything was beautiful, Fawn.”
“Maybe people need to witness the good and the real. You made friends and probably lost some. Their families might also like a pictorial history. It might be healing. For them and you.”
CHAPTER 7
Spade
She’s right. I thought about visiting some of the families of brothers we lost. But this last eighteen months have been a struggle with the divorce. Having Jax to talk to helped. Coming here…. I’m beginning to think was the smartest thing I’ve ever done.
Fawn is beautiful, with her long brown hair kissed with natural highlights. Brown eyes and lush lips. Best of all she’s not afraid to be her. No airs or practiced, seductive smiles and glances. She trudges across the yard and barn with a purpose, not to shake her booty to entice.
Her allure is her honesty, her unaffected-this is me-attitude. She doesn’t feign weakness or ignorance. Her straightforward approach, and‘I got this and don’t need a man’, make me want to do more and more for her.
This farm is hard work. Hell, I’m feeling it after barely two days. She doesn’t complain or whine. She simply takes care of her responsibilities and keeps going. Anticipating the answer, I ask anyway just to see her reaction. “Who does the sheering for you?”
She looks up from her work and frowns. “Who the hell do you think does it? You think I’d trust some bully around my babies?”
I laugh.
Shaking her head she turns back to her work. “Ha ha. Funny, Spade. You knew the answer.”
“Real question, who helps you with the sheering?”
“The goats get combed because they’re angora and its better for the product. Most of them are used to me and the process. I hitch them to a post with a feed bucket, and they mostly behave. The younger ones are harder, you need two people.
“The sheep only get shorn once a year. But they aren’t as happy about it. Mom used to help but it’s harder on her now. The kid who helped last year went away to college. Not sure what I’m going to do this spring. It’s easier if the animals know the helper.”
“I’d like to help. Hopefully, I’ll be a deputy by then and although I am helping Jax with his cabin, I’m sure he’d work around any schedule you and I made to take care of the animals.”
“Are you planning on staying around?”
The look in her eyes makes me think she might kind of like my company, too. “Yeah, I’m staying. It feels right. I’ve found a few…. things that make it feel like this place is where I’m meant to settle down and start a new life.”
There’s the slightest spark in her gaze before she lowers it. I can work with that.
Standing, I head to the stove. I’m ready for coffee. It’s time I start learning all the ropes. I already know I want to be part of her life.
I offer to go out with the dogs and check on the animals. She hesitates but agrees. The snow is still falling but it’s gentle, not as fierce as the first two days. Brownie heads to the property linebefore joining me in the barn. Marble goes to the other side of the property.
I do a head count of the sheep and goats since Fawn reminded me that Chia is an escape artist. The animals are staying pretty close to the barn, instinctively knowing it’s the safest place to be. I do a little cleaning and add fresh water.
Both dogs come running when I head to the cabin. I notice a few things I’d like to tighten down on the cabin once the snow stops. There’s a loose board at the end of the porch and a step that gives a little. At the door I pause and tell the dogs ‘shake it’, like I’ve heard Fawn command. Pretty pleased with myself when they both do as I say. They stop inside the door and wait for me to wipe their coats and paws just like they do for her.
“Everything’s still secure, and all the animals accounted for,” I tell her.
“Thank you, that was a big help. I’ve almost got this batch taken care of. Then I’m caught up and can start weaving again. I have a special order I’d really like to get finished.”
“I’ll make dinner. I’ve cooked over an open fire, I can figure out this wood stove.”
“I was going to make pasta with sausage. There should be sauce in the pantry that we canned last summer.”
“Got it.” I have everything but the noodles ready when she finally steps away from her loom.
She comes up beside me, and places one palm on my back and leans forward to look in the pot. It’s the first time she’s touched me first. I wonder if she realizes.
“That smells good. You added stuff, didn’t you?”
“Just a little. You want to taste?” I hold a spoonful out to her.
