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“Good to know.” I push the bag farther out of reach, so he’ll have to live in suspense a bit longer. “Okay, first of all, how are you able to control the fly population, and second of all, what do you know about highland cows?”
Luke jostles his head as though he hasn’t heard me right. Then he blinks. Then he squeezes his temples like talking to me hurts his brain. So dramatic. “The flies, that’s just about disrupting their life cycle. I can do that with those bags hanging in the trees.”
He points at some burlap bags I’d noticed but never asked about. They hang near the barn and close to the animal feed troughs. Good information, but I’m not really in this conversation for the pest control.
“Yeah, that’s cool. Let’s talk about the cows.”
“What about them? They’re cows like any other. They just happen to come from stock in the Scottish Highlands, and the ones you’re talking about have been bred to be smaller. They’re designer cows, if you want my opinion. Why the sudden interest?”
I look out again at the pasture, imagining several adorable small cows roaming around. Scout would have a ball with them, and I have a strong suspicion they’d keep old Grumpypants here from getting too bent out of shape about life.
“I think you should get a couple.”
“For what purpose?” he asks, baffled. It would be cute except that, as usual, his obstinance makes my convincing job that much harder.
“Enjoyment. Emphasis on the ‘joy.’ What could be better than a small cow with bangs over its face who only wants to snuggle and trot around in the field? If I had a pasture, I’d get two. In fact, that’s the plan at Loveland.”
“Wait, you can’t be serious.”
“I’m serious.”
“No. Bad idea.”
“Here or at Loveland?” I get that he might not want me meddling in his business here, but our ranch is a whole different prospect, and I know our future guests will die over mini highland cows.
He lets out a long sigh. “Both, but let’s start with your family ranch. What do you know about raising livestock? These are not cute pets. They’re farm animals.”
“Obviously, I would learn. You could teach me.”
Here it comes, the eye roll. “You really want to learn about raising cattle?”
“I really do.”
He starts shaking his head. I’ve seen it before—the head shake, followed by a dramatic sigh, finished off with a long speech about the impracticality of whatever I’m asking for. I’ve seen him do it with his animal feed supplier, with his foreman, with his facilities manager. It was just a matter of time before he directed the process at me, and I’m prepared to stand my ground.
“Come here,” he says, pointing at the chair across from him. I sit like a school kid getting ready for a lecture. “Not saying no, but in exchange, I have a question I want you to answer.”
“Ooh, a question? Is it multiple choice? I do well with those.”
“No.”
He sits back and makes me wait. I shrug. Fine by me.
“Tell me about this wanderlust. This urge to bolt. What’s it about? For real.”
My cheeks flush for some reason. “No one ever asks me to dig deep into my psyche. There’s no point. I’m built the way I am.”
“I don’t believe that. And I don’t think you do either.”
I walk to the sink and come back with a glass of water, my face grim. “I’m not sure the cow lesson is worth this.”
“Now I’m even more certain it is.” His voice is gentle, and he extends his hand. His question puts me on the defensive, but he’s not the enemy. I know that.
“I-I guess I want leaving to be on my terms, you know? Like when my parents died…I had no control over that. No say, no opinion. The universe did not consult me when I lost both parents before kindergarten. So big shocker, I don’t want to be sideswiped again. I want to decide what happens in my life, when I stay and when I go. It may just be an illusion of control, but it’s what I have.”
Luke’s eyes float shut, and he blows out a breath.
“Not what you were expecting?” I ask, trying for brightness.
