He gives a shake of his head. “I’ll keep you updated; I promise. Just...not now.”
He seems in no hurry to leave the porch, staring into the distance, the German Shepherd sitting alertly at his feet.
“What—” I start to ask.
“Sshh,” he says softly. “Look.”
I follow the line of his gaze. The sheer expanse of blue sky and rich green fields strikes me first, contrasting sharply with the dark mountain peaks in the distance. I spot horses and donkeys grazing, cows huddling in the shade of large trees, the bulky bodies of pigs rooting in the dirt, shaggy-looking goats nosing around. Everywhere I look I spot some sort of animal, but I don’t get a sense of overcrowding, only a strange sense of peace.
“This is what I’m fighting for,” Kane says.
So many retorts hover on my tongue. It takes all my restraint to bite them back. I don’t want to harden the softening I sense in him or spoil the brittle truce hanging between us.
“Let’s take a look at the stallions.” He retrieves a pair of muddy gum boots from what looks like a homemade shoe rack and hands them to me. “Put these on.”
I tug on the boots. Giving the deranged-looking chicken a wide berth, I walk alongside Kane as he follows a dirt track meandering through the property. The German Shepherd sticks close to Kane, while the rest of the dogs, tongues lolling in canine grins, are keen to sniff and explore, loosely keeping pace with us.
The sheer beauty of the morning crowds out my anger. Not even the smell of manure can detract from my enjoyment of the surroundings. Admittedly, there’s a part of me that feels almost duty-bound to hold onto my grievances, but the sun is a soothing warmth on my skin, a slight breeze plays gently with my hair, and I find I don’t want to nurse my bitterness. Feeling as though I’ve lostan important battle, I tilt my face to soak up the sun’s rays and catch Kane looking at me with an arrested expression.
“So what’s with the dog?” I ask.
He’s staring at my mouth. Slowly, his eyes lift to meet mine. “What do you mean?”
I gesture to the German Shepherd. “He never leaves your side. Is he your guard dog?”
“I rescued Saba as a pup. I found him tied up, starving, and terrified of everyone.” He strokes Saba’s head, whose eyes slit in shameless pleasure at the attention. “Since then, he’s appointed himself my bodyguard.”
Before I can comment, a pale gray donkey with comically big ears and a well-defined black cross on his back ambles toward us. Kane stops and smiles. A smile that transforms his face and sends a jolt of heat through my body.
“Carrot-top,” he murmurs affectionately as the donkey noses him in the neck.
The German Shepherd gives the donkey a wary sniff, then wanders off dismissively.
“Why isn’t he in a paddock?” I ask nervously.
“Carrot-top’s a free-ranger,” Kane explains, scratching the donkey’s ears. “He gets on well with all the animals so he pretty much has the run of the sanctuary.” He gestures for me to stand beside him. “Come say hello.”
Stepping closer, I hesitantly stroke his neck, the coarseness of his fur feeling strange under my fingers.
Kane gives me a rundown of the donkey’s background and Ross’s rescue of him. As Carrot-top’s expressive brown eyes gaze deeply into mine, something inside me relents a little.
Carrot-top nudges me with his nose. Not braced for the surprising force of it, I stagger slightly. Kane steadies me with ahand on my waist, which he withdraws once I have my balance. I’m intensely aware of his nearness, my skin still tingling from his touch.
“I know what you’re looking for,” murmurs Kane as he fishes a carrot from his pocket and feeds it to the donkey. “Don’t worry, boy, it’s not one of Mel’s cookies.”
“What’s wrong with Mel’s cookies?”
As Kane explains the dangers of Mel’s baking, I find myself laughing at his outrageously exaggerated account. It’s a strange moment to be sharing with him. “We have one thing in common then. I can’t cook either.”
“Oh, Mel’s a great cook. It’s her baking that’s dangerous.” He cuts a glance at me. “When you sayyou can’t cook...”
“I mean it. Literally. Restaurants are my best friends.”
I sense he wants to say something, but the only response he offers me is a contemplativehmmm.
Our conversation is interrupted when we catch sight of Nolene on the far side of the paddock, returning from her run. She looks fit and lean in scanty shorts and a running top that molds to her well-defined torso. A cap is pulled low over her face.
I’m hoping Nolene won’t come over, and she doesn’t, merely raises her hand in a casual greeting, which Kane returns. Then she picks up her pace and disappears around the front of the property.
