Part 4
Glen stayed until his cup was empty, then took it inside and washed it at the pump. Owen heard the water running and realized he had stopped listening for the other man to leave. Outside, Fern had moved into the patch of shade beside his chair.
She kept Owen in view while he worked. If he climbed onto the roof, she settled below that section; if he went behind the shed, she moved to an opening between the weeds. She let Glen pass without retreating, but she still wanted to know where Owen was.
One afternoon, while he pulled old wire from a thorn thicket, she gave a short cry. Owen dropped the wire and found her holding up her right front paw. A thorn lay between her toes, almost hidden by wet fur.
He crouched and reached halfway toward her. Fern drew the paw back.
Owen lowered his hand onto the ground. He could have caught her leg, finished quickly, and called it kindness; instead he waited while her breathing slowed. The wire he had been clearing lay useless beside him.
She put the paw down near his fingers. When he touched her, she trembled but stayed. He removed the thorn, washed the small puncture, and checked that nothing remained before putting a light covering over it.
Fern watched him gather the wrapping. Then she set her paw on the toe of his boot and stood with her weight on the other three legs. Owen stopped moving long enough for her to take it away herself.
He checked the paw over the next few days. It healed without trouble, and the covering came off. Fern no longer moved away when his hand came near her feet.
By the third week, the main room stayed dry. Glen and Owen had repaired the failing porch support, replaced weak posts, and cleared enough vines to see what the shed required. It took several days to brace a wall, repair the undermined corner, and reopen the drainage behind it.
Boone acquired a morning route of his own. He went from the cabin to the western corner, passed the shed, inspected the south gate, and returned to the porch. Owen followed with him on the longer lead until the rebuilt fence was fully secure.
Once, in afternoon rain, Boone sat beside him through a stubborn wire repair. Water ran from the dog’s black saddle and gathered at his feet. When Owen stood, Boone waited for him to pick up the lead before moving.
Tucker had less patience for work. Owen found a missing tape measure under the porch with a glove, a sock, three stones, and an empty treat wrapper. He enlarged the wall pouch, checking over his shoulder while he drove the nails.
Tucker watched from beneath the table. By evening he was studying the newly added pocket as closely as Owen had studied the roof.
The chimney was inspected before Owen used the woodstove. With dry wood stacked beside it, the cabin began to hold heat after sunset. He no longer went to bed wondering which pan would fill first.
A bad dream woke him late that month. He lay listening until the stove ticked and the window came back into focus. Fern stood beside the mattress, her chin resting on its edge.
He put a hand between her ears. She stayed without climbing up, and he let the hand remain there as his pulse slowed. In the morning he found a small hollow where she had slept beside the bed.
Later, Glen met him in the repaired shed. They had water troughs that held, gates that swung properly, and bedding ready in a small holding area. Through the open doorway Owen could see enough southern ground for the beginning he wanted.
“I could start with six,” he said.
“Start with two.”
Owen looked at the stall. “There’s room.”
“That’s not what I’m counting.”
Glen flexed a bent finger against the rail, waiting while Owen considered it. A few weeks earlier, Owen would have bought six simply to end the discussion. Now he watched Tucker attempting to tug a cloth from the high pouch and thought about how much of each day he already spent discovering what he had overlooked.
“Two,” he said.
Before buying them, he arranged a separate introduction pen and checked the hay and sheep minerals. The veterinarian in Alder Creek had reviewed the seller’s health and vaccination records; Owen put the number beside the kitchen shelf. Glen inspected the trough again while Owen hitched the small livestock trailer he had borrowed from him.
The farm lay in a valley east of town. Two weaned ewe lambs waited in a pen, one close to the seller’s boots and the other determined to chew Owen’s jacket. He moved the fabric away and bent to examine her legs.
“Briar,” Glen suggested, watching her reach for the jacket again.
Owen accepted the name. The quiet lamb was Willa; she followed when Briar moved, then stopped behind her. Owen checked their eyes and hooves, asked about feed, and read the records before loading them into the carrier fixed to Glen’s trailer.
He drove home slowly. At the rough sections he could feel the trailer through the hitch, and he stopped to make sure both lambs were standing comfortably. Glen waited without commenting on the stops.
All three dogs came to the inner gate when the pickup appeared. Boone stood squarely in front, Fern watched from behind him, and Tucker ran an unnecessary circle before approaching the trailer. Owen clipped their leads on before he opened the carrier.
Glen took Willa. Owen lifted Briar, who protested loudly at being carried.
Tucker sprang backward so fast that Owen had to move to keep the leads apart. Fern ducked behind his left leg. Boone maintained his position until Briar stretched her head toward him, at which point he took a careful step away without lowering his chest.
Owen nearly lost his hold on the lamb because he was laughing. He set her inside the introduction pen and closed the gate, still trying to get enough breath to speak. Glen lowered Willa beside her.
The lambs went to the trough. Three German shepherds watched from the far ends of their leads.
Tucker barked. Willa turned her head, and he immediately found something more interesting to look at beyond the roof.
Glen leaned against the fence. “You paid for all three of those?”
Owen wiped his face with his sleeve. Boone had backed up another few inches, preserving the expression of a dog who had made no concession whatsoever.
“They were better at the feed store,” Owen said.
Briar came toward the wire. Fern leaned against Owen’s shin, Tucker retreated until his rear touched the porch step, and Boone decided to join them. Owen stood between the dogs and the lambs, holding the slackening leads, and let himself laugh until it hurt.
To read the rest of the story – CLICK the NEXT button 👇👇👇