Not your kid. Not your business.
A voice from the fence line said, "That mare's due for her wormer."
Arlo Pickett was leaning against the pasture fence with the air of a man who had been there for some time and intended to stay. A speckled brown dog with a gray muzzle sat at his feet, watching the proceedings with mild interest.
"I thought you're not allowed to tell me anything or help me in any way," Tessa called back.
"Wasn't talkin' to you. Was talkin' to the vet."
"Arlo." Dillon walked over and shook the old man's hand. "How are you holding up?"
"Oh, I'm vertical. Some days that's enough." Arlo squinted at the barn. "How are the critters?"
"Chairman's glucose is high but manageable. Biscuit's hocks are swelling again. June needed her meds adjusted and Dolly's mange is flaring. The rest are holding steady."
Arlo nodded slowly. "Fern would be real glad you're looking out for her babies so well."
Arlo's brown dog casually belly crawled under the bottom fence rail. He straightened up, stretched, and ambled forward with the unhurried purpose of an old dog who knew exactly where he was going. He walked around the horses, past Dillon, past Tessa, and sat down directly beside Makayla, who was still leaning against June's neck.
Makayla opened her eyes, looked down at the dog, and said with absolute certainty, "Hi, Brownie."
The dog's tail swept the patch of dead grass he sat on..
Arlo watched from the fence. "His name's Brown Dog."
"He looks like a Brownie to me," Makayla said, scratching behind his ears. Brown Dog closed his eyes in bliss.
Dillon watched, perplexed, as Tessa walked in a weird tiptoe to over near the fence. It dawned on him that if she were to put any weight on those spikes for heels of hers in this saturated ground, they'd go straight down into the mud lurking beneath the layer of dead grass, and she'd be stuck as sure as if she'd nailed her boots to the ground.
Arlo made a sound that was half-snort and half-laugh. He turned to Tessa and said, "Fern used to say the soil on the south side drains different than the north when the spring thaw comes," Arlo remarked conversationally.
Tessa stared at him. "I'm sorry?"
"Just an observation." He adjusted his glasses and looked out toward the pasture. "No particular reason."
Dillon pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. He knew what that meant. Arlo had been delivering these cryptic little bulletins to Fern for decades, and Fern had always known to listen. Tessa did not yet speak Arlo.
She'd learn. Or she'd find out the hard way. Either way, it would be instructive for her. He couldn't wait to watch the education of Tessa Lawrence unfold over the next year. Assuming she lasted that long. The pinochle posse at Rose's Diner had a betting pool going on how long she would last out here on the farm, and a bunch of the locals had gotten in on the wagering. The highest number he'd seen put her leaving Fern's farm in two weeks and leaving Montana entirely in three weeks.
He turned back to Tessa. "I'll come back tomorrow to walk you and Makayla through giving Chairman Meow his morning shot and check on Biscuit's joints. You should also know that Chairman Meow will need bloodwork next week. His glucose levels need monitoring until they stabilize again."
"How often will you need to come out here?"
"I usually swung by here about once a week. But I'll need to stop by more often at first until we get everyone stabilized again."
She straightened. Drew herself up to her full height, albeit with a slight list to one side. That boot heel of hers was tilting a little more, now. Her blouse was ruined and her hair was pretty close to giving altogether on staying in a bun. Not that he was dream of pointing it out to her. She obviously took great care with her appearance and would be mortified if she knew how bedraggled she looked.
Bedraggled, and yet, still dazzlingly beautiful.
Meanwhile, her daughter was communing with a horse while a mutt named Brownie wagged his tail beside her.
Tessa looked at him with those mesmerizing, golden brown eyes of hers and said crisply, "Tomorrow, then. What time?"
"Seven work for you?"
"Seven in the morning?"
"Animals don't keep banker's hours, and neither do veterinarians."
