A Family For The Farmer. Laurel Blount

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СКАЧАТЬ her, trying to poke the stainless steel milking pail under the bulging udder. The twins were standing a respectful distance away watching the process with doubtful expressions.

      For a moment Abel was distracted by the picture they made. The fading sunlight reached through the slats of the barn wall to highlight Emily’s honey-colored hair, which was gathered into a messy knot on the top of her head. The twins were mostly in shadow with only their faces picking up the light.

      Abel’s fingers itched for a sketch pad. There was so much here he could carve: the curves of Emily’s face, the sturdy, childish shapes of the twins...

      The cow shifted irritably. Abel blinked, and his mind shifted abruptly back into gear. “Emily, look out there! You’re on the wrong side. She’s going to kick you!”

      As if on cue the Jersey lifted one fawn-colored leg and struck out sideways in Emily’s direction. Emily fell backward, her breath escaping her in a loud huff, while Beulah focused on aiming her second kick at the empty pail.

      The pail landed next to Emily with a loud clang that set the hens clucking worriedly. Abel crossed the barn in three strides and knelt down beside Emily, whose gray-green eyes were wide.

      “Did she get you?” Abel asked as he helped Emily back to her feet. “She can be an ornery old girl. You have to watch her.”

      “I’m all right.” She stepped away from him, dusting off her pants with quick, irritated motions. “Stupid cow.”

      “Beulah’s smart enough. That’s the problem. If she was stupid, she’d be a lot easier to handle.” Since Emily seemed unhurt, Abel turned his attention to the cow. He placed a reassuring hand on Beulah’s flank and murmured to her, settling her with his familiar touch and voice. The Jersey gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled her big brown eyes reproachfully in his direction. About time you showed up, she seemed to be saying.

      He almost hadn’t come at all. He’d dawdled a full forty-five minutes after his normal chore time wondering if he should. In the end his concern for the animals had won out. Emily didn’t know the routines, and she didn’t know where the feed was. He didn’t know if she wanted his help or not, but he knew she needed it. So, like it or not, she was going to get it.

      “Maybe I’d better milk her out for you tonight.” He righted the toppled pail with one hand and scooped up the three-legged milking stool with the other. “Cows are kind of particular about their milking routine, Beulah more than most,” he explained, stepping over to the other side of the fidgeting cow. “She’ll probably behave herself better for somebody she’s used to.” As he settled in on the correct side, he could feel the cow relaxing. She took up a mouthful of grain and began crunching calmly, looking as if she’d never tried to kick anybody in her life.

      Abel, on the other hand, felt as jumpy as a cricket in a henhouse...and a whole lot less welcomed. Emily was still standing in the spot where he’d left her, and the twins, their eyes big with curiosity, were watching him clean off Beulah’s full udder with the wipes Miss Sadie kept on hand.

      Abel had never spent much time around kids, and the few he’d run into here and there hadn’t left all that favorable an impression. These two seemed different. He liked the no-nonsense way the boy had of summing things up, and Emily’s little girl had a real special sparkle to her.

      He liked them just fine, but that didn’t mean he knew how to talk to them. It didn’t help matters that they kept staring at him wide-eyed like two tawny little owls. Fortunately for Abel, milking was a great way to avoid eye contact. He kept his gaze focused on the streams of creamy liquid that jetted into the bucket with a ringing hiss as his practiced hands did their work.

      Paul walked over and hunkered down next to him, watching the process with a wrinkled nose. “I don’t think I like milk anymore.”

      “Me, either,” said Phoebe, who was keeping a safe distance.

      “Aw, now. You’ll hurt Beulah’s feelings talking like that. Anyhow, I expect you’ll change your mind when you taste this milk. Beulah’s milk is the best in the county, maybe even the state. You’ll see.”

      “Paul, back up. I don’t want that cow to kick you.” Emily sounded irked.

      “He’s all right. She’s not in a kicking mood anymore,” Abel said evenly. “She was just reminding you that cows like to be milked from the right, that’s all.”

      “How does a cow know the difference between right and left?” Paul was skeptical. “Even Phoebe doesn’t know that yet.”

      “I do, too, know that!”

      “You don’t, either.”

      “Children.” Emily’s voice held a tinge of desperation. “Why don’t you go look at the chickens for a few minutes and let me speak to Mr. Abel?”

      “Chicken feed’s in that big metal can over there. You can throw some to ’em if you want to,” Abel suggested. The twins scurried off excitedly.

      “Stay outside the pen,” Emily called. “That rooster might be mean.”

      “He is that,” Abel agreed. “Newman’s about the meanest rooster I’ve ever seen. Your grandma was the only one who could handle him.”

      Emily fixed him with chilly eyes. “What are you doing here, Abel?”

      “It’s milking time. I thought you might need a hand.” He’d been right, but he figured it was the better part of wisdom not to point that out.

      “I can manage on my own.” Emily tilted up her chin as if daring him to argue with her.

      He wasn’t going to. According to the information that had filtered down through Miss Sadie to him over the last six years, managing on her own was Emily’s specialty. This woman had plenty of grit. She was just a little low on know-how.

      And maybe gratitude, come to think of it.

      “I’m not saying you can’t handle things by yourself, but it’s been a while since you had to deal with this kind of stuff, and now you’ve got twins to look after in the bargain. I know the ropes around Goosefeather, and your grandma was good to me. I’m just trying to help you out a little.”

      “Yes, well. Your helping me is kind of a conflict of interest right now, isn’t it?”

      Abel felt temper flare inside him. The tempo of his milking upped a little, but he kept his voice carefully calm. “Not the way I see it, no.” There was a pause, punctuated by the hiss of the milk foaming in the half-full bucket and the excited clucking of the hens as Paul and Phoebe tossed cracked corn through the chicken wire.

      Emily sighed sharply. “I just don’t think this is a wise move right now, Abel. Your helping, I mean.”

      “That kind of depends on what you call wise, I guess,” Abel said, stripping the last drops of milk from Beulah’s deflated udder. He lifted the heavy pail from under the cow’s belly and topped it with its clean lid before setting it safely to the side. “Maybe you and I have different takes on it. Like right now it seems to me you’re looking a gift horse in the mouth, and that sure doesn’t seem all that smart to me.” He angled himself under the cow and carefully applied the spray that would help protect her from mastitis.

      “Sorry, СКАЧАТЬ