Finally Home Read Free

cold.
    Reaching up, Colt tugged her hood out from under her overalls and snugged it over the experimental stocking cap Emily had knit last month. It was lumpy in the back and saggy in the front, but Casie didn’t believe in looking gift horses in the mouth, especially when they were given by fragile teenagers intent on acting tough.
    â€œThanks,” she said, and barely glancing at him, trudged through the snow toward the sheep barn. The wind was gusting from the northwest, making it a relief to reach the door, but Colt was already slipping past her to pull it open.
    â€œAfter you,” he said.
    Casie flipped on the lights. Overhead bulbs illuminated scores of dozing sheep. Lying in clusters upon the straw, they looked soft and cushy in their reclining positions, but experience assured her they were not always as docile as they appeared.
    â€œWhere was she when you saw her last?” Casie asked.
    â€œNear the corner over there,” he said and motioned toward the east. He wasn’t wearing gloves. His hands looked broad and sturdy. On the underside of his russet-colored wrists, the veins stood out in sharp relief.
    Casie cleared her throat and pulled her gaze from his arm. She was fairly certain the sight of his wrists shouldn’t made her feel faint. “I’ll see if I can find her,” she said. “You don’t need to come along.”
    â€œBut you don’t know how she looks,” he argued.
    â€œDirty white, I think you said,” she reminded him and hopelessly scanned the endless animals that dotted the barn like so many moguls.
    Colt chuckled quietly, careful not to frighten the ewes. “Come on,” he said. “I might recognize her if I see her.”
    Perhaps she should have argued, but if there truly was a ewe about to lamb, it was imperative that they find her soon. The guilt involved in losing a newborn was something she tried to avoid at all costs, and the thought of looking for one pregnant sheep in this sea of gestating ovines was overwhelming at best. She was sure she wasn’t allowing him to assist for any reasons other than practicality.
    â€œLook for a red mark on her spine,” he said as they moved cautiously through the woolly waves.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI intended to mark her with a big X so we could find her later, but all I managed was a little swipe of red before she got away from me.”
    â€œYou could have told me that before,” Casie said.
    â€œAnd missed this chance at such a romantic interlude?” he asked, then grinned across the backs of a dozen ruminating sheep.
    She caught his gaze. For months they had been dancing these same steps. It seemed as if he was always present, repairing equipment, doctoring livestock, cleaning cattle yards. There were times, entire minutes, in fact, when she was absolutely positive he was enamored of her. Why else would he stick around? But despite the entirely unpaid hours he put in at the Lazy, he had never once asked her on a date. Why was that . . . unless he was merely ever-present so that he could spend time with Emily? The two of them had formed a special bond early on. When the girl had first arrived, her relationship with older men had bordered on hero worship. Colt’s presence seemed to be eroding that weird scenario. Although Em still periodically gazed at him as if he were an integral part of the Second Coming, she no longer acted as if the entire male populace held the key to the universe. Was that intentional on Colt’s part? Did he arrive at the Lazy every single day in an attempt to foster a healthier attitude in the wayward teenager? Or did he have other reasons?
    There were times when Casie was convinced that Colt was simply killing time. After all, he’d spent a good many years on the rodeo circuit. Maybe he was just enjoying some time off. But every once in a while, when she least expected it, he would look at her as he was now, making her heart leap