Granny nodded, a devilish gleam sparking in her eye. “Yes, my boy, that is Winnie Owens. Isn’t it funny how things work out? Seems the transfemme woman that he’s all het up about using this bathroom or that in public is the same loving soul thatcarried his mama from a flooding building and has sat with her for going on two days to keep her calm and smiling. Yessir, the Lord sure does move in mysterious ways.”
“I want to be here when he shows up,” we all said in unison.
Granny grinned. “Oh, I plan to have one of you all videotape it on your cell phones.”
None of us felt the need to correct her on how you didn’t videotape on a smartphone. We all knew what she meant. I suspected every Bastian would be standing on the front porch when Manfred rolled up to collect his mother and was told that Bella was the one who saved her from the floodwaters. Yes, the Lord did indeed keep his divine plans inscrutable.
After our late meal, I checked on Dahn, who was back to sleeping in his pullout bed in the front parlor, aka our bedroom. My bed held an old man with no hair, Harry, I think his name was, who snored violently. Oh, how I wished I could claim my bed, but it looked like we were going to be bunking with the goats. My son’s wild black hair poked out of the top of his blankets. I bent over to kiss his head. He mumbled something in his sleep. The boy had always slept like a log. I resolved to make an effort to speak to him tomorrow morning.
The house was quiet now, everyone asleep, so we gathered up the sleeping bags left by the front door, more dry clothes, and crept like tomcats out into the night. The rooster crowed. A beam of moonlight fell on the ranch. The peaceful chirrup of crickets and the far-off hoot of an owl met us.
“Seems like nothing happened,” I commented. Nature seemed to be recovering in its due course. Life went on for the wild critters.
“That’s pretty common in some ecosystems that are used to flash floods. The wildlife rebounds quickly in many cases. They’ll just move to higher ground and return once the water goes down. Some fish and insects thrive on the nutrients floods bring.Predators and scavengers will return to their hunting grounds and feast on drowned prey. Nature, by and large, knows how to handle these disruptions. Of course, sometimes stress and the introduction of diseases from a great flood can—”
Baker leaned over to kiss his boyfriend. “We love your nature talk, babe, but let’s just go to bed.”
Hanley nodded. He was tired too. They ambled off to the goat barn. I never thought to ask who had done chores today, but I hoped Dahn had pitched in to help. I turned to look at Ollie staring up at the night sky as more and more stars appeared as the lingering rain clouds left.
“Do you need a sleeping bag?”
“I’m not staying. I have a lot of work yet.”
“Ollie, you look done in. Can’t you grab a few hours? I’ll let you use one of Baker’s old scout sleeping bags.” I held out said green checkered bag.
“That’s very kind, but my work isn’t done until everyone in my county is safe. Thank you for worrying about me. It’s been ages since I had someone who wasn’t family concerned about me.” He placed his lips on mine. I leaned into the kiss, wanting more, needing more, but knowing that he had no more to give at the moment. Also, there was a sleeping bag keeping us apart. “Go get some sleep. And thank you for the help today. You Bastians aren’t too bad.”
“We’re growing on you.”
“A certain Bastian is.” He rubbed his nose over mine, sighed, and straightened. “Lunch on Monday?”
“You bet.”
“Here’s hoping.” He stole another kiss, turned, and shook each man’s hand, thanking them for their help before tipping his hat to me still on the porch. The lawman walked down to the yard, the lawn squelching under his shoes. I padded out to join mybrothers standing under a now clear sky. We watched the Jeep with the shiny star pull away.
“So, you kissed Ollie,” Baker commented as he stared skyward, a sleeping roll under his left arm. I looked at the rest of the men. Each one was enraptured with the heavens, it seemed, but wearing small smirks. Assholes.
“Yep, and I plan to do it again.” I walked off, and they fell in behind me, taking up a rendition of Eric Clapton’s “I Shot the Sheriff” but substituting shot with kissed.
My siblings and their sig others were assholes, but I did have to give them credit. Itwaskind of funny. They followed me to the goat barn to bunk down. The goats were happy to see us and blatted for some treats. Sadly, we’d not brought any animal crackers.
I’d thought I would toss and turn with no soft mattress under me but slogging through a torrential rain for umpteen hundred hours wore a man out. I was asleep before my head hit my hay-stuffed feedbag.
***
Perhaps out of respect for her guests, Granny did not get her gun today.
Sure, the rooster crowed a few feet from my head, and the goat buck snuffled at my ass trying to eat my sleeping bag, but there were no gunshots. Blinking to consciousness with a stiff back and a ferocious need to piss, I slowly sat up. And came eyeball to funky eyeball with Willy, our big red-and-white buck.
He made floppy lip noises at me. His breath was atrocious.
“I think he wants a kiss,” Lincoln commented at my right, his big body stuffed into a sleeping bag that seemed about a foot too small for him. The man looked like one of those hot dogs wrapped in a crescent roll, but all of the wiener was sticking outof one end. I flipped him off. He laughed long and boisterously as he always did. The other two comedians stirred to life, blinking awake as they tried to sort things out mentally before recognition settled on their faces. The only one who seemed not to be out of place was Hanley, who was softly snoring, curled around Baker or curled as well as a man in a bag could curl.
“Willy probably saw you sucking face with Ollie and felt left out,” Baker commented while his boyfriend snorted awake momentarily. Baker, in a move incredibly unlike him, brushed the back of his fingers along Hanley’s scruffy cheek. It was a simple yet beautiful gesture of utter devotion. I so longed for something strong like they had.
I sat up, gave the entire barn two middle fingers, and freed myself from the sleeping bag. The others snickered like the trio of idiots that they were. I knelt down to tidy up my bed, which was really just soft hay and a sleeping bag that smelled of mothballs and mouse urine.
“Titter all you want, but at least I’m kissing a handsome man,” I huffed, rolling my bag into a tight little bundle. I threw a look at Ford and Linc. “Who are you two kissing, other than goats and that tree you talk to when you’re meditating behind the boutique?”
