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Gerard shook his head.
“He grew up with Howey Mandell, the hound dog you might’ve seen on the porch when you drove up,” Bernie smiled. “I tried to train Howey to sit and roll over. He wasn’t very receptive, but Dom picked up quickly and likes dog treats as much as carrots.”
With the donkey out of the way, several goats moved closer, bleating for their turn and pushing their noses into Bernie’s hand.
“The brown and white Boer goat is Elvis. Don’t turn your back on him. He has a bad habit of sneaking up behind you and butting you when you least expect him.”
She gave Elvis a piece of a carrot and shooed him away. “The black Spanish goat is Maleficent. The three smaller goats are her triplets, Flora, Fauna & Merryweather. Sometimes, I take the donkey and the female goats to local events and set up a petting zoo. It’s a good way for children to get familiar with farm animals and for the animals to earn their keep.”
Bernie pointed to the other end of the pasture where a brown and white cow lazily munched on grass. “That’s Dolly, our milk cow. I milk her morning and evening and sell her milk at the store in town. I also make butter to sell at the farmer’s market.”
“Where do you find time to do all this?” Gerard asked.
Bernie shrugged. “What else would I do with my time?”
“Go out to dinner with friends. Go dancing. Travel,” he suggested.
She laughed. “My friends are all married with families of their own. I never learned to dance, and travel is out of the question.” She raised her hands, palms upward. “Who would take care of the animals while I was gone? They need me. And frankly, I need to be needed.”
“What did you do before you married Ray and his farm?”
Bernie smiled softly.
Again, he thought, not beautiful, but pretty in a way that made him want to hug her.
“I took care of my grandparents,” she answered, her tone matter-of-fact.
“What do you mean?”
“My parents died in a head-on collision with a drunk driver when I was in high school. My grandparents took me in. They were older, having had my mother when they were in the forties. By the time I graduated high school, their health was failing. I worked part-time at the feed store and took care of my grandparents.”
“College?” Gerard asked.
She smiled as she walked around the banks of the small pond. “I did it all online, graduating with a degree in business with an emphasis on marketing.” She looked around at the animals. “I do some online consulting for a little extra money for feed and seed.”
“In your spare time,” Gerard murmured. Which had to be nonexistent. He was tired just thinking about everything this woman accomplished in a twenty-four-hour day.
Bernie led the way out of the pasture, closing the gate behind them.
Gerard followed her to a small structure surrounded by tightly woven chicken wire.
She bent to turn the handle on a faucet that hung over the small trough inside the chicken run. Water ran out of the spigot into the small trough. When it was full, Bernie turned it off and straightened. “I let the chickens out during the day to range feed and put them up at night to keep them from being eaten by raccoons, coyotes or stray dogs.” She looked around as if searching for something.
“Where is he?” she murmured.
“Where’s who?”
“Rhett Butler, my Rhode Island Red rooster.” She walked around the coop and returned to stand near Gerard. “He’s a sneaky bastard. If he’s around when I’m collecting eggs,” she pointed to a fish net hanging on the outside of the coop, “I scoop him up in the net, hang him on the wall and go about my business. When I’m done, I release him.”
“Why do you hang him on the wall?” Gerard asked. This farming business was beyond strange.
“He’s got really sharp spurs,” Bernie said. “He likes to nail you from behind when you’re squatting down to collect eggs.” She frowned. “Trust me. I have scars.”
Gerard found himself curious about this woman’s scars. His groin tightened.
“Come on.” Bernie tipped her head to the side. “I’ll show you the barn, and then we’ll go out to the pigpen. I need to feed them and give them fresh water.”
She opened the big door on the front of the barn, stepped in and flipped a switch.
