“I can’t do this anymore,”Lucy wails through the Bluetooth on my car as I drive to Mr. Greene’s farm. “Our dogs are terrified. This puppy is on another level. She’s destroyed every pair of socks we own. She chewed a hole in the wall.The wall,Lindsey. How is that even possible?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “My hands are tied. I checked in on Ron this morning, and he said it would be a few more days.”
“Willow is going to divorce me.”
“You’re not married yet,” I say with a chuckle.
“And if this dog stays here one more day, I never will be,” she pouts. “How’s Ron doing, anyway?”
“He sounded like he was in better spirits,” I answer. “But I know he misses June Bug and can’t wait to have her home.”
“That makes two of us,” she mutters.
“Listen, I’ll ask Kayla if she’d be willing to help, but it’ll have to wait till later because I’m almost at the farm.”
“Maybe Mr. Greene could use her to keep the goats in line.”
I chuckle. “I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Fine,” she says, but I can hear her smile through the phone as I end the call.
I turn onto the long gravel drive that leads to Mr. Greene’s farm, winding up a wooded hill. Once I hit the clearing, I gasp. The three-story home and rustic barn come into view, but they’re not what catches me off guard. Parked alongside Mr. Greene’s worn pickup with the attached trailer is a fire truck. And there, on top of the roof above the second floor balcony, is a very pregnant goat.
I park and head up to where Mr. Greene is standing amongst a handful of firefighters, yelling obscenities up at the animal who looks down, unimpressed.
“Hey, Mr. Greene,” I say as I approach.
He turns to greet me, but I barely notice because I catch a glimpse of another familiar face: Oliver.
“Well, look who it is,” Oliver says with a smile that could melt ice caps.
“Dr. Haggerty, thank goodness you’re here,” Mr. Greene says. “The kids left the back door cracked again, even though I’ve told ’em over and over again to make sure it shuts behind them when they come inside,” Mr. Greene explains around the toothpick he has wedged between his teeth. “Anyway, me and the missus was out tending to the chickens when we heard our youngest, Bobby, screamin’ bloody murder because Agatha showed up outside his bedroom door. The sound must’ve startled her, ’cause she somehow managed to push through the window to the roof before I could get inside.”
I cock my head and study Agatha, who is pressed against the shutters of the third story window.
“So, I called you and the fire department because I didn’t know what to do,” Mr. Greene continues. “We tried to lure her back in the house, but she wasn’t having it.”
A firefighter with bronze skin, whom I recognize from the day Ron fell ill, speaks up. “I say we just go up on the ladder and carry her down.”
“That won’t work, Martinez.” Oliver shakes his head. “You’ll spook her, and she could fall off.”
“Then what do you suggest, Probie-Wan Kenobi?” Martinez quips, folding his arms over his broad chest.
“I’ve got to admit, this never happened back in Texas.” Oliver turns to me. “You have any ideas?”
I chew my lower lip for a moment, lost in thought as I weigh our very limited options.
“I don’t know,” I say, “but we need to act fast because I’m pretty sure she’s in labor.”
“How can you tell?” Oliver asks.
I gesture toward Agatha with my head. “Look how crooked her tail is and how prominent her hips are. That tells me the kid has dropped into the birth canal. And you see the way she’s kind of hugging the side of the house? She’s probably experiencing some contractions. Goats tend to pull away and hide when those start up.”
Mr. Greene turns to me. “What should we do?”
I glance back at the rig, where the engine is still running, before catching Oliver’s eye. “You can make that thing into a crane, right?”
A flash of confusion passes over his face before his mouth settles into a knowing smile.
