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“Drink it. Freeze it for the winter. I give a few jars away.”
“Can you sell it?”
“Not legally.”
Because legalities are a big concern for you. I eye Oscar and Gus—two animals that might have more wolf than dog in them. “So, you drink a lot of goat’s milk, then.”
“Been drinkin’ it all my life. I grew up on a cattle ranch, but they never could get me into the cow’s milk.”
It’s the first shred of anything about Roy’s past life he’s offered.
“Was that in Texas?” I ask casually.
There’s a long pause. “Yeah. In Texas.” With a pat against the mother goat’s side and an unexpectedly soft “good girl,” Roy slowly eases himself to his feet, using the pen’s fence post. His grimace of pain says more than words ever could.
“Would you please let me carry that bucket of milk to the house?” I can’t help the irritation in my voice.
He scowls. “Fine, but don’t spill any of it.”
“I’ll try my best not to.” I shoot him a flat look before reaching down to grab the handle.
The sound of an ATV engine approaching along the laneway sends the dogs off in a frenzy.
Roy groans. “Great. Just who I didn’t want to deal with right now.”
I’ve reached the porch with the bucket by the time Muriel appears around the corner, her bright orange helmet covering her head of tight gray curls, her gun strapped over her shoulder, the dogs running circles around her.
“Go on and take that inside before the bugs are swimmin’ in it,” Roy orders, wiping his hand on his jeans as he awaits Muriel, a grim expression on his face.
When I return, to my pleasant surprise, they’re not bickering but talking in low, civil tones.
“… probably the same one. Haven’t seen or heard him around here the past couple days.”
“They said it came way too close to them. The one guy ended up tossin’ his catch at it to buy them some time to pack up.”
“Dumb ass.”
They must be talking about that brown bear.
“My boys are down there tryin’ to scare him away before he causes any real trouble.” Muriel turns her attention to me and offers me one of those wide, crinkle-eyed smiles. “Just finished up milkin’, I see. Told ya you’d get the hang of things around here.”
Roy shoots a warning look my way.
If I wanted to punish him, now would be the time to be honest. “Yup. Sure did.”
“I got things to tend to inside.” Roy shuffles toward his porch as if his conversation with Muriel is over.
“So, I’ll pick ya up at eight on Friday?” She hollers after him.
“What for?”
She shakes her head. “So they can put a cast on your arm? You know, the one that’s broken in two places?”
He grunts. “This brace works fine.”
I sigh. Here we go …
“Don’t you even think ab
