I jog down the porch steps and step into the chicken run.
"Need a hand?"
She looks up, takes in the situation from my perspective, and starts laughing.
"Atlas got into the run," she says, looking at the poor dog. "Which he does, from time to time. He’s still in training."
"What do you need me to do?"
She points to the far corner. "Block that gap so they stop escaping through it. Don't let Hank near you, or he'll have your shoelaces."
“Hank?” I’m almost afraid to ask. She points to the goat. I nod.
Ten minutes later, the chickens are back in the run, Atlas has slinked off, and feathers are everywhere.
"Maybe I should introduce you to everyone,” Falon says, laughing at the absurdity of what just happened. She points to the goat. “That's Hank, he’ll eat anything in reach, including your backpack pocket."
"Does he approve of anyone?"
"Jury's still out on most people." She watches him for a moment. "He likes Millie. And the mailman, for reasons nobody understands."
Hank holds my gaze for a few more seconds, then turns and walks away. I choose to take that as neutral.
She points to a mini donkey and a few horses in the pasture. “That’s Muddy the donkey. There are a few horses in the back pasture, Annabell and Mischief. They are my new rescues. And of course, Sundance and Missy are at Mom's, and Dad’s new boy, Matrix.”
A Blue Heeler and a small Red Heeler appear from the direction of the east pasture.
“And those two are Oliver and Cooper. Oliver and Atlas are the blues, Cooper is the red, and Aries is the hound. They had come to be with me when Dad broke his leg. Four dogs and crutches are a recipe for disaster and an accident waiting to happen. Technically, they’re Mom and Dad's dogs, but they'd worked alongside me long enough that the ‘theirs or mine’ line had blurred long ago.” The two make their way over to Falon. They circle me once, noses sniffing a million miles an hour.Oliver glances up at Falon. She gives him nothing. Cooper sniffs my boot and trots off after him.
"You passed," Falon says.
"High praise."
"That's as good as it gets on day one. Aries’s around here somewhere. She’s my geriatric hound."
“Do you need any more help today. I’m not allergic to work.”
“Are you sure you’re up for it. I don’t want to rough up those pretty little hands,” she jokes, then gestures for me to follow her.
We work until the sun goes down. I carried, she directed. She introduced me to Dispatch when she decided to appear at some point and claimed the top step of the guest house porch, where she sat for the rest of the evening and watched us work.
After chores, Falon suggested dinner and led me to the main house.
“Your kitchen is chaos.”
“I know, I know. I’m still painting and still have a few more cabinet doors to sand. But the good news is the laundry room is done.” She lights up.
There are recipe cards on a corkboard. Wooden spoons in a jar by the stove. Mismatched mugs on hooks. It's Falon and construction. I thought back and realized that when we were growing up, I never really knew Falon’s taste. Tyler was the football quarterback and had trophies everywhere. Melody showcased her farmhouse décor, and Rick was usually working on the ranch but loved his fishing. Falon, on the other hand, had a distinct style, but it was generally buried under the other three. But this, this space. This is hers, and only hers.
She cracked eggs into a bowl and started adding spicesand other ingredients while I sat at the table, trying not to look like I was memorizing her. She moved through the kitchen with ease because she put it there.
"You cook?" she asks without looking up.
"Pearl taught me the basics. Better at breakfast than anything else."
"Mind if you take morning duty. I can do lunches and dinner."
We eat scrambled eggs and toast at her kitchen table, and it's so easy it hurts. Like we've done this a hundred times. Like, we could do it a hundred more times. In high school, while other girls were gossiping, Falon was moving through life with a good head on her shoulders, and now, at twenty-three, she had her own ranch and was fixing up an old farmhouse that fit her perfectly. She once said she never wanted one of those already fixed houses; she wanted to fix her own, and here she is doing it.
