“No. She’s in Bluebell, Montana. She rescues animals, and every so often hears about one in trouble in a different state, including this little lady.” He pats Maple on her rump before raking around the hay in her stall. “Maple was only four months old when she was found in a backyard petting zoo, jammed into a small enclosure with no roof or grass to graze on. Her coat was matted and caked with dried mud.”
“That’s awful. You poor thing,” I murmur, stroking her neck.
“She was found three hours from here, and Birdie called me asking if I’d take her in,” Shep continues.
“It’s a good thing you agreed. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t?” I shudder at the thought.
“Birdie would have picked her up and taken her back to Montana,” Shep reassures me. “She’d never leave an animal in a dangerous situation. She has a bad habit of getting into trouble to save them. Good thing her dad’s the sheriff in Bluebell, or she’d have landed herself in jail already.”
Of course, Shep would downplay his good deed and how much he cares about Maple. But I’ve learned that how a person treats animals often says a lot about how they treat people. Shep can play the gruff guy all he wants, but driving three hours to rescue a baby cow proves he has a heart of gold.
“Birdie sounds amazing, but Maple seems happy here,” I state.
“Only because she gets lots of treats when she does tricks. Wanna see?”
He’s dodging the topic of the good deeds he’s done, but I let it go, too intrigued to see what Maple can do.
“Is it something they taught her at the petting zoo?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “No. I did.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Youtaught Maple tricks? The same man who acts like he doesn’t want her staying here? Someone’s totally smitten.”
“Not you, too,” Shep grumbles. “Birdie said the same thing, and it’s still untrue.”
“Uh-huh.” I don’t believe him for a second. “Now show me these tricks Maple can do.”
Today, it seems I’m discovering a new side of Shep every hour, and I have to admit it only makes him more endearing.
I watch as he takes a bag of sliced apples from his coat pocket and moves to the other side of the stall before holding out the treat.
“Come, Maple,” he orders gently.
She sniffs the air, slowly pivoting to face Shep. Her tail flicks as she trots over to him, darting her tongue out to scoop the apple from his hand. She tosses her head proudly as she chews her prize, and Shep gives her a broad smile.
Did I hit my head and tumble into Wonderland, where rabbits wear waistcoats, tea parties never end, and the brooding cowboy’s usual scowl has flipped to a smile?
“Such a good girl, Maple,” Shep praises. “Want to see her do another trick?”
I draw in a long breath to steady my racing heart. “Yep, I’d love to.”
Shep holds an apple slice in one hand, stretching the other out flat in front of him.
“Maple, down.”
She flicks her ears at the sound of his voice, shifting her weight as if considering his command. Gradually, she tucks her hind legs beneath her, lowering her broad frame to the ground with unexpected grace. Her large brown eyes remain fixed on the apple slice, but she doesn’t move until Shep gives a nod of approval. The second he does, she stretches her neck forward, lips curling around the treat.
“She’s so clever,” I coo.
Shep gives her another apple slice and grins as he runs his hand over her head. “Atta girl, Maple.”
Seeing this side of him makes my heart flutter, and if I’m not careful, I might start hoping the snowstorm never ends.
It’s Beginning to Feel A Lot Like Christmas
Bringing Noelle to the barn was a bad idea.
I figured letting her tag along would keep her out of trouble or from attempting another experimental recipe that I’d inevitably have to eat.
