Page 87 of Pumpkin Spice Promises

“So…” Earl shifted. “I figured it could wait until morning.”

Carson looked up at him. “Don’t do that.” There was no anger in her voice. That somehow made it firmer. “If something changes with one of the calves, call me. I don’t care if I’m at a meeting. I don’t care if I’m asleep. I don’t care if I’m halfway to Atlanta. Call me.”

Earl nodded and Carson stood with a small grunt.

“Mix electrolytes into the next feeding. Small amount first. If she refuses again, we’re calling Dr. Harper.”

“What about the feed order?”

“Already handled.”

“Fence guy called too.”

“I know.”

“Said he can’t come until Monday.”

“I know.”

“And the cooling unit⁠—”

“Earl.”

He stopped. “I know.”

Something passed over her face. Utter exhaustion. She rubbed both hands against her jeans. “One thing at a time.”

Earl finally noticed me. His eyes moved over my shoulder toward the truck outside. “You got company.”

Carson turned. The change in her expression was immediate. Her eyes narrowed as she rose a brow in suspicion. “What are you doing here?”

“Good morning sweetheart.”

She looked toward the barn entrance. Then back at me. “If you’re here because Rosie sent you to measure the north pasture, save your gas.”

“Not measuring anything.”

“Clover?”

“No.”

“Walter?”

“Technically Rosie.”

“I knew it.” She pushed loose strands of hair away from her forehead. “I haven’t agreed to host the festival.”

“I told her that.”

“And?”

“You’ve met Rosie.”

Carson muttered something I couldn’t hear. Earl apparently decided this was a good time to disappear. He nodded as he passed, and I raised my chin in silent greeting before looking around the barn.

“You’ve been busy.”

“I run a dairy farm.”