This was revenge.
My mom hates those goats, but she knows how dear they are to me. This has her hand all over it. In desperation, I race to the far end of the fence, scanning the tree line and neighboring fields. My chest tightens with every second that passes without movement. They get out all the time, but never through a propped-open gate. Plus, they don’t wander far. They usually come to the porch to show off their escape.
My hands shake as I pull out my phone and call my dad. He answers on the third ring. “Hey, Lottie.”
“The goats are gone.” My words tumble over each other. “All of them, and the gate is open like someone left it open. Did you move them?”
“What? No,” he says immediately. “I ran into town early for an appointment to get new tires. Everything looked normal when I left at six.”
My pulse roars in my ears. “Are you sure you didn’t let them out to play and maybe forgot?”
“Like I said, everything was normal when I left. I didn’t have time to let them out.” He sighs, like he already knows something’s wrong. “We both know this is the game they play.”
“This isn’t them breaking out. Gates don’t just magically prop open. Someone let my goats out on purpose.”
“Don’t go accusing your mom just because you two had a falling out at work.”
The words feel like a slap. “I didn’t even say her name,” I snap, even though I absolutely was thinking it.
“You were about to,” he says, “and that’s not fair. I bet if you look, you’d see her car gone too.”
I do a visual sweep of the driveway, where only my Land Rover is parked. “You’re right. Nobody is here now, but someone opened the gate.”
“I’m just saying—”
“I have to go,” I cut in and end the call before he can finish.
My hands shake harder as I go back to my recent calls and press Ty’s name.
“Hey, Queen,” he greets me.
“Did you just call me Queen?” I gasp, my breath hitching at the swooniest thing I’ve ever heard. But I’m dizzy with worry for my missing goats, and I can’t think straight.
“I guess I did. Is that okay?”
“No, I mean… yes. But not now. I don’t have time to flirt, because my goats are gone. The gate got left open, and no one is here. I’m panicking.”
“Did you check the flower gardens?” he asks. “They like to get in there. Or—”
“I already checked, and they aren’t there!” I hate that I’m losing patience for small talk, but I’m struggling to breathe with my racing heart, and I’m sucking air as I jog along the fence line. “They bust out of their pen all the time, but they never leave, and the fence wasn’t broken. It was perfectly intact. Someone opened it. I just, I don’t understand why my mom would—”
“Wait,” he says too slowly for my rising panic. “Why would your mom want your goats gone?”
“I don’t know.” My voice shakes as I hold in my fears. “But she hates them. She hates that they’re mine. And she hates I—” I stop, breathless, bracing a hand on my fear-weakened knees to pant. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I just know they’re gone.”
This can’t be happening.
Any second they could be getting run over.
I need to find them before they die!
“Okay,” he says calmly. “Take a breath. I have to finish up my exit interview today, but I’ll let them know I have an emergency and come as soon as I can.”
We hang up, but I don’t hang up my search. I race through the tall grass, my flip-flops sliding in fresh mud as I cut across the field. My lungs burn, but I don’t slow, remembering one time the goats got out—I found them down by the creek. It was fine then; the water was low. But it’s not low now. The creek is much fuller now, and I’m not sure they can swim. Panic propels me to run as hard as my heart will allow until I skid to a stop at the field’s edge.
They’re there!
Splashing like idiots, they butt each other playfully near the water’s edge. Toast is eating something I can’t identify, but they all look unbothered andalive.
