“I’ll be right back.” He and Macon herded the goats to the pasture out back while the others spoke to me all at once, wanting to update me on all that had happened while I’d been away, what improvements had been made, what threats had been identified. I glanced around to get my bearings, feeling a bit disoriented without Kitten to act as my buffer. The memories were coming back like rushing water, but I needed more time to process. Still, their easy banter was comfortable and helped me to understand my role in this family.
Kitten’s brother Santiago approached at last and pulled me into a bro-hug. “Hey, man, you look great. Glad you made it. I’m sorry again about what happened.”
I shrugged, not remembering everything in detail but knowing he’d tried his best. “Bad luck,” I told him.
“Joshua still pissed at me?”
“I dunno. You’ll have to talk to him.” There was definitely friction between the brothers, on Kitten’s side at least, but I wasn’t going to poke around that particular landmine.
Santiago nodded as if he’d expected it. Macon and Kitten returned and we went into the house where it was slightly cooler. Macon shoved food at us, having been relieved of his watchtower duty by Rafi, one of the other new recruits. That they’d been following security protocol in my absence made me happy. Artemis demanded we tell her everything that had happened, in detail. Kitten, being the better storyteller, regaled them all with the trials and tribulations of the past month, while I watchedhim with a deep sense of contentment, thinking how good this felt.
“What are you smiling about?” Macon asked, nudging me.
“I just love him so much. I’m here with you all, alive and not Rabid. Life is good.”
He thumped my back. “Life is good, buddy. And you’ve got to be the luckiest motherfucker alive.”
So goddamned true.
EIGHTEEN
KITTEN
Cipher was reunitingwith the rest of the Assholes and reacclimating to our life in Assburbia. We hadn’t told the others yet about our plans to enlist–we’d decided to wait until the daily meeting. The decision to leave them was still weighing heavily on my mind.
The first thing Cipher did, shortly after our arrival, was to take a tour of the compound’s perimeter and inspect the fence. Macon, good sport that he was, accompanied him on his inspection and marked wherever repairs needed to be made with a can of spray paint. Then the two of them set to replacing the rotted or loose boards and reinforcing any weak spots with spare wooden pallets, fencing, and sheet metal.
Meanwhile, I checked on the garden and made sure the goats were getting used to their new pasture, a fenced-in area where our chickens roamed freely during the day and the grass for grazing was plentiful. One of the nannies needed milking. I’d never milked a goat before–never milkedanythingbefore, unless you counted Cipher’s cock, ha ha. It was a messy task, to say the least. Dolly Parton was eager for relief but wouldn’t stand still. Instead, she kept stamping her hooves and lowering herhead like she was about to butt me. It didn’t help that she was separated from her herd of three. The other two were happily grazing in the field, while she was stressed and angry. Might she be missing her kid too? And then I felt like a real jerk because I hadn’t considered that we might be separating a mama from her baby.
“I’m sorry, Dolly Parton, but we really need this milk for our family. We’ll treat you real good here, like a queen, and the next time you have a baby, you can stay with them as long as you like.”
She stilled and I tentatively reached for her udder. Just when I thought I had the hang of it, eking out tiny bits of milk a little at a time, Dolly reared up and kicked over the bucket, spilling all that I’d collected. The bucket was now dirty and smeared with chicken shit. I’d have to wash it and start all over again.
“You stay there,” I told Dolly, even though her collar was already attached by rope to a wooden post. She lowered her ears and dropped her head as if preparing to charge. I was definitely not her favorite person.
“Joshua?”
I glanced up to find my brother in the doorway of the wooden lean-to, his face in shadow. My anger at him had ebbed considerably, especially since Cipher had recovered, but one wrong word from him might set me off again.
“Hey.” I used the hose’s spray nozzle to clean out the bucket, along with a little bit of bleach to sanitize it. The noise from the hose made it impossible for me to hear him, but I couldn’t hold him off forever. This conversation was long overdue
“Got a minute?” he asked.
“I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“I can help.”
“You know how to milk a goat?”
“Yeah, don’t you remember that 4-H program Mom enrolled me in that one summer? We had to milk the cows on their farm. I imagine it’s probably similar with goats.”
“All right.” I gestured to my squat wooden stool, wanting him to prove himself. I picked some long grass to feed Dolly, hoping to mend fences between us.
“There’s a good girl,” Santi said, petting along the ridge of her back. She bleated at him somewhat aggressively but didn’t kick or buck. “You’ll feel much better once this is over, I promise.” He approached her from the front, rather than the side as I had, trapping her neck under his arm while reaching for her udder with both hands. He manipulated the teats between his fingers until fresh milk began dribbling, then squirting out. Dolly bleated aggressively once more before settling under my brother’s confident hold. He found a rhythm, and I watched his technique for tomorrow morning when she’d need to be milked again.
“There, I think she’s about done,” Santiago said at last, pulling the bucket from underneath her and setting it aside. There was a half-gallon at least, enough to make a good amount of butter, maybe even some cheese. I felt as rich as a king, grateful to Cipher for negotiating the trade on our behalf. I suppose my brother did have some skills.
“Thanks,” I said to Santi while untying Dolly and leading her out of the shed so that she could rejoin the others.
