Page 34 of Bailey

The crowd got to their feet, and Jem stepped past Sunny so he could see down the aisle. Cole hugged Warren, and then with the largest smile Jem had ever seen on his son’s face, he led a line of men down the aisle.

Bryce, Harry, Cash, Adam, Boston, and Eric. All the Young men.

Then came Rachel’s brother Harrison, then Cole, then Warren. The Walker men.

Jem only had eyes for his son, and when Cole reached him wearing a midnight black tuxedo and so much hope in his eyes, all of Jem’s worries simply vanished. “My son, my heart,” he whispered as he pulled Cole into a hug.

“Love you, Daddy,” Cole whispered, and then he took his place in front of the altar, a puffy white padded platform above more rugged fence poles. A pastor stepped forward to join him and the groomsmen spread out behind Cole on the right where Jem’s side of the family sat.

“And now, feast your eyes on the bride,” Rosie said into the mic, which sent a round of surprise through Jem. He hadn’t known she’d be announcing Rachel. “The wonderful woman my brother loves with his whole heart, Rachel Walker.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet,” Sunny said, and Jem found her dabbing at her eyes. She was the wonderful woman who’d taken on him and his two kids, loved them completely, and been his best friend for over a decade now.

He moved back to her side and put his arm around her, beyond happy that he had her to lean on.

“He looks good, brother.” Blaze clapped one hand on Jem’s shoulder as he leaned forward from the second row. Jem had once felt left out of his big family, but they’d all come to Texas for this wedding. Each and every one of them, and it was because Jem and his family were an integral part of the larger Young clan…and he knew it and felt it deep in his soul.

No better feeling existed, and Jem let his tears fill his eyes when Rachel and Wyatt arrived at the altar, and the tall cowboy passed his daughter to Cole, as if he trusted the young man to care for her, love her, and be at her side from now on.

Jem did, and he wiped at his eyes, though he didn’t care who saw him crying at his son’s wedding.

CHAPTER

FIFTEEN

“Hey, Bay, I think this kid is warm enough now.”

Bailey turned from her examination of a pregnant ewe at the sound of OJ’s voice. He carried the baby goat that had come in a few hours ago, the smaller of twin babies that had been born and then rejected by his mother.

OJ had been with her every step of the way, from bringing warm towels from the dryer and setting up a crate with clean bedding. He’d held the kid while Bailey examined him, and he’d written down the temperature and weight of the animal.

“If he’s warm,” she said. “We can feed him. Remember, you have to write down what time and how much he ate.”

OJ nodded solemnly, taking his volunteer duties at her veterinary clinic very seriously. The kid lounged peacefully in OJ’s arms, though he’d been shivering and bleating weakly when Harold Olson had brought him in. He was alert now, and Bailey felt sure he would make a full recovery.

What she would do with him after that, she wasn’t sure, though she’d already thought of Reeves and the goats he owned. Perhaps she could get one of his momma goats to foster this one, but she wasn’t even sure if he had any dams at the moment.

“Remember, we want the milk to be body-temperature warm, but not hot,” she added. “I think for that kid’s size⁠—”

“I named him Frosting,” OJ said, beaming down at the kid and then Bailey. “See how he has this beige fringe? It looks like frosting over a vanilla cake.”

Bailey smiled at him, because OJ could make the most mundane things an adventure. “Frosting, okay. I think for Frosting’s size, you’ll want to mix up the colostrum replacer and heat it to one hundred and two degrees.” She nodded to the table against the wall. “Read the directions on the can. It’ll tell you how to mix it up.”

“How much?” OJ asked.

The kid was about eight hours old, and Harold said he’d only fed once from his momma. When he’d realized the kid had been rejected and was hiding in the corner of the pen, he’d tried to get the dam to accept him, but she wouldn’t. He’d then brought the kid to the clinic, where OJ and Bailey had assessed him, and OJ had been working to warm him up.

“Mm, let’s start with four ounces and see what we can get him to take.” She smiled at OJ. “There are thermometers to check the temp in the far-left cabinet above the table.”

OJ nodded and turned to move over to the station, where she’d already gotten out the can of colostrum replacer and the goat kid milk replacer. They were both powders that OJ could mix up and heat in a microwave, and she didn’t need to babysit a fourteen-year-old mixing water with powder.

She returned to her work with the ewe. Her owner had reported her as listless and not eating much, and Bailey needed to figure out if she’d gone into labor and needed help delivering her baby, or if there was something more serious going on.

OJ hummed behind her, and she watched him for a moment, noting that he only worked with one hand so he could continue to cradle the kid in his other. It made her heart happy to see him work with animals so naturally and love them the same way she did.

She took out her phone and snapped a quick picture, which she then sent to Bryce, Otis, and Georgia with the words, I promise I won’t let him bring a baby goat home.

Bryce sent back laughing emojis, and Otis sent the ones that rolled their eyes.