Page 24 of The Wedding Ranch
He rolled over and sneezed.
“Well, don’t be put out. You’ve made quite the mess in the past. I’m going to close off the back bedrooms. If you’re good, I’ll bring you a treat. If you’re bad, next time you get stuck outside for the whole day.”
His eyes got wide, the whites accenting the dark brown centers.
“I know that’s harsh, but you’re in control. Do we have a deal?”
He put his chin down on his paws.
“Excellent.” She pressed a kiss to his nose. “I’ll see you in a little while. You be good now.”
She wondered if she and Craig had had at least that much conversation over the past few years if their marriage may have stood a chance.Why do I even care? I’m happier without him, and what’s wrong with talking to my dog? He’s a better communicator than Craig was anyway.
Lorri walked outside. The sun was hot on her skin, but there was a breeze that offered a brief relief. She put on her sunglasses and pulled out of her driveway. Big, puffy clouds broke up an otherwise blue sky, making it an unusually comfortable day for August.
On her agenda, besides the birdhouses, was stopping in to show her support for Tinsley at the aquaculture booth, and since that was in the same location as the crafts, she was saving it for last, because she knew herself—she could spend a whole day looking at handmade things. She’d probably come home with a list of fourteen new projects. She’d start with the livestock tents,then attend the class before heading over to the craft building. If she could make the timing work, she hoped to see those racing pigs.
She drove across town toward the fairgrounds. In the distance, a red-and-white-striped tent top rose between two tall poles and a Ferris wheel peeked above the trees. Traffic slowed the closer she got, and then it came to a stop, inching forward at an incredibly aggravating speed.
Just as she was ready to try turning out of line and giving up altogether, traffic started moving. Colored pennant flags lined the entrance. Flagmen wearing bright orange safety vests waved people into the parking area, which was a dirt field. Thank goodness it had been a dry week.
She parked next to the truck that had been in front of her. Families walked hand in hand toward the gate. She fell in step behind them, awkwardly alone in the crowd of grouped families. She stepped to the counter, bought her ticket, and then went inside.
Music and ringing bells from the midway mixed with the smell of sugary treats and sausage dogs. Her stomach growled. She’d been so eager to get here she hadn’t taken time for lunch. Not that most of this food was going to supply much good nutrition.
Across the way a trailer selling cotton candy caught her eye. She’d never had cotton candy. It was time to correct that.
Lorri walked over to the counter. “One cotton candy please.”
“That’ll be five bucks. Pink or blue?” the concession clerk asked.
“Are they different flavors?”
“No. Just different colors.”
“Well, let’s go with blue then.” She handed the woman a five-dollar bill, who then plucked a paper cone from the top of a tall stack. She swirled it above her head as if it were a tiny baton, then spun it into one of the huge silver bowls twisting it in a circular motion in the sugary web until it was nearly as big as a bowling ball.
“Here you go.” She handed the sticky puff to Lorri.
“Wow. I should’ve asked for a small!”
“One size fits all. Enjoy.”
“Thank you.” She pinched off a piece of the fluff between her fingers and thumb and brought it to her lips. It melted away into a sweet nothing.Not bad.
The airy concoction flattened in her touch, and it didn’t take but a few bites before she realized she should’ve opted for the pink because her fingers were now blue.
She absently nibbled as she worked her way through the fairgrounds looking for the building where the birdhouse class was scheduled. She pulled out her map and got her bearings.
The livestock show was being held in the giant red and white tent. As big as a circus tent, it must’ve cost the county a fortune to put that up. She followed behind a group of people who seemed familiar with things. Strands of lights rose in a crisscross pattern across the entire tent. Duke-blue gates and panels filled the left side of the tent, and the ones on the right side were red. Banners hung above most of the pens. Pigs over here, goats and sheep in the blue pens, and cows at the end.
The pigs really didn’t need a sign. She’d already guessed their location by the smell. The group in front of her movedforward and she caught her first good look at the animals. A double-wide pen hosted a big old momma pig that had to be the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. From the sign zip-tied to the fence, she learned the sow’s name was Petunia. She appeared to be worn out, but then she had a bunch of hungry piglets vying for her attention even though Momma was trying to rest. They oinked and eeked, little tails wriggling in delight as they fought like brothers and sisters do for the best spot.
She stood there amused for a long time. A teenager stepped into the pen and refreshed the water and tidied things up.
“Is it unusual for them to have this many babies?” Lorri asked.
“Yorkshire sows usually have eleven pigs in a litter. This year she surprised us with fourteen, but she’s handling them all just fine.” He looked so proud.
