Page 115 of The Defiant Curse

Yeah, he was so glad he came here.

Heading out of the gate, he saw the big barn, and he knew Graham was an animal lover. Callen had mentioned that he might rival Elizabeth when it came to collecting animals.

Once more, he regretted not giving her that, too. If there was a barn, she should have something to fill it.

Right?

Her happiness mattered, and he’d neglected that. So, he popped inside to learn a lesson while there. What did you put in a barn?

Well, he got his answer.

In one stall, there were goats.

Lots.

Of.

Goats.

There were white ones, a particularly bold black one, and a few with patches of multi colors. The entire time, they were hopping around and climbing on the things inside the stall, like it was a playground.

Well, goats had to goat, he supposed.

When one jumped and missed the bale of hay, it was so comical that Ethan laughed.

The sound must have caught them off guard, because then, the most ridiculous thing happened.

They all fell over like they were dead.

That made Ethan laugh even harder.

“Oh, shit,” he said, amused as he opened the gate to pick one of them up. It was stiff and playing dead, but as soon as he held it, it came ‘back to life’.

It was so stupid that he fell in love with it.

“I know my wife found this amusing,” he said, enthralled by how sweet the yellow-eyed goat was as it climbed into his lap, and the others headed his way.

They crowded him, and Ethan did the only thing he could.

He began petting them.

When something touched his head, he looked up, and there was a black horse eating his hair.

“Hey,” he said. “Who are you?” he asked, reaching up to pet the silky coat.

Between the horse and goats, this place was going to blow his kids’ minds. Charlie loved horses, and before they had to lockdown to be safe, she had lessons on weekends with Christopher Anthony. Horses had been the reason she recovered from being nearly abducted.

Callie, the FBI head shrink, his boss, and friend, had told them to lean into equine therapy, and it had worked. It had also helped him.

He’d gotten to ride with his daughter and see her absolute joy and love for animals.

In that, he saw that she was her mother’s child.

That was for sure.

Getting up, he managed to escape the goats, and he headed to where the horses were. There was a plaque outside each stall. On them, there was a name.

The black horse was Hamlet.