“And he doesn’t listen to me, Cinnamon. He thinks I’m just a dumb kid,” she weeps. “I’m not a kid. I’m almost a teenager, and I’m growing up. Mom would’ve let me do it, but he just doesn’t care.”
I should turn around, but right as I’m about to, she looks over and then gets to her feet. I smile. “Hey, Sadie. Sorry to bother you.”
She wipes at her tears with the back of her hand. “Hey. You’re not. I’m just…sitting.”
I walk closer, ignoring the tear that’s still lingering on her cheek. “That is a beautiful chicken,” I tell her.
“This is Cinnamon. She’s my favorite.”
I grin. “We have about fifty chickens, and I’m the only one who has named them all. I have a favorite too, but her name is Norma Hen.”
Sadie’s eyes widen a touch. “You named them?”
I nod. “I did more funny names. Like, Hennifer is one, and then I have Mary Poopins. Oh, and my rooster is Cluck Norris, after Chuck Norris, but you’re probably too young to know who that is.”
She shakes her head. “Yeah, I don’t know why that’s funny.”
“I feel old. What are some of your chickens’ names?”
“Most of mine are after food. My rooster is named Cheeseburger, because he looks like the color of cheese. Then I have Sugar, Basil, Meatball, and Hey-Girl.”
“Hey-Girl?” I ask, a little confused since that’s not a food I know of.
“She’s a runner, and I would just chase her while yelling it, so Dad said that was her name.” Sadie shrugs.
“That’s a good name then. I have a few that no matter how much I try to get them to love me, they just don’t. Chickens are fickle animals.”
Sadie nods in agreement. “That’s Cheeseburger. Dad threatens to make him dinner every day because he charges him as soon as he comes close to the coop.”
I laugh, imagining the rooster chasing Tristan to the point that he’s yelling about killing him. “You should video that,” I tell her conspiratorially.
“I will next time.”
“Is your dad around?” I ask, trying to sound cavalier, but let’s face it, I’m a Gatlin and he’s a Stone. There’s nothing normal about me asking for him.
She pushes her one hip out and looks away. “No. At least I hope not. I’m avoiding him.”
I know that tone. “I see. You’re upset with him?”
Sadie turns her head quickly. “He’s stupid.”
“Most men are, trust me, I have brothers.”
That earns me a smile. “Why does my family hate you?”
I smile back and reiterate my last statement. “Because most men are stupid. Honestly? I don’t know anymore. There have been about a hundred versions of the story that change some detail each time we tell it. My favorite is the one about the time your family stole all my family’s horses and sold them. Of course, no one remembers all the details.”
She snorts a laugh. “I’ve heard about the time your grandad came to the auction and told everyone our horses were defective so no one bought them.”
Yeah, that sounds like my grandpa. He hated the Stones and did anything he could to piss them off.
“I’ll tell you this,” I say, leaning against the fence post. “I don’t hate your family.”
She raises one brow and smirks. “Really?”
“Really. I don’t. I try not to hate people without a really good reason.”
Sadie shifts the chicken to her other arm. “Me too.”
