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Who was this guy? He certainly couldn’t be Mr. Church. A lawyer wouldn’t show up to a professional meeting in jeans, boots, and a ballcap. Not even a small-town lawyer.
“Are you looking for Frankie?” The cowboy’s question was curt, as though Hazel had interrupted his afternoon and he needed to get back to whatever he was doing.
“I was looking for Mr. Church. Daniel Church. I have an appointment with him, and he gave me this address.” Who was Frankie?
The man raised an eyebrow and gave her a once-over, judging her for something other than her lack of rooster-knowledge.
Just then the farmhouse’s front door opened, and three little boys spilled out in a blaze of shouts and wrestling. The cowboy whistled and grabbed their attention, just like he had with the dog.
“Jesse!” the boys called as they ran across the lawn, like the man had offered them candy.
“Who was in charge of getting the eggs today?” the cowboy—apparently, Jesse—asked the three little kids.
There was a flurry of pointing fingers, before the oldest boy spoke. He looked to be about Grace’s age. “Noah got the eggs, I fed the chickens, and Wyatt cleaned the coop.”
“Then we played tag in the pen,” the littlest boy, who was maybe five or six years old, added like he was excited to tell Jesse about their game. The two older children gave him a glare.
Jesse tipped his head at the boys. “Well, did anyone manage to shut the door to the coop when you were done playing tag?”
The boys looked like they were trying to remember.
“Nope!” the littlest boy replied.
Jesse gestured toward Hazel. “Well, you let the rooster out and he chased this lady. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
The boys all looked at Hazel, surprised. “Sorry, Ma’am,” they said in unison. Hazel closed her mouth, not able to scowl at the children.
Before she had a chance to say anything in return, the littlest boy asked, “Is that why you’re sitting on your car?”
The oldest added, “Oh, Mother Clucker is the worst!” He made a face like he felt sorry for Hazel. “He chased me through the barn last week and I had to climb up into the hay loft to get away.”
“Which is why we always remember to close the coop, right boys?” Jesse interjected. The boys agreed with vigorous head shaking.
“The rooster’s name is Mother Clucker?” Hazel asked, a little dumbfounded.
“Yep,” the littlest boy replied just as a woman and a man exited the house. The boy jerked a thumb at them as they walked across the lawn to join the debacle. “Momma named him. He chases her too.”
The woman gave Hazel a concerned looked as she neared. “Oh no, did that Mother Clucker chase you?”
Hazel was stunned, but it wasn’t due to the horribly named rooster. As the woman neared, Hazel was flooded with a strange sense of déjà vu. The woman looked familiar. Her warm strawberry-blonde hair, the band of freckles that speckled her nose, and her high cheekbones reminded Hazel of someone. She just couldn’t place who.
“Are you Hazel?” the woman asked.
Hazel nodded and tried to gracefully remove herself from the hood of her car. Instead, she scooted along like a toddler on a plastic slide. How embarrassing.
“Let me help you, Hazel.” The clean-cut man who’d arrived with the woman offered his hand to assist Hazel off her car. “I’m Daniel Church. We talked on the phone. I’m so glad you were able to make it here today.”
The lawyer.Hazel took Daniel’s hand and set her bare feet on the ground. She didn’t even have a chance to stand up before the woman reached out and introduced herself, sending Hazel’s world completely off balance.
“And I’m Frankie Barnes. Your sister.”
***
