Single-Dad Sheriff. Amy Frazier

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      PERCY TAGGING ALONG behind, Samantha walked Rory McQuire toward the five other llamas wading in the creek. The boy had said very little, but he’d made eye contact as he’d listened to her explain the duties of the part-time job. And he’d let Percy make the first moves. He seemed easier around the animal than he was with her.

      “Have you had any experience with llamas?” she asked.

      “No, but I’ve read about them and most other animals. I watch the Discovery Channel. Animal Planet. National Geographic. I want to be a vet.”

      “How old are you?”

      He patted his pocket. “I have my work permit.” A work permit meant he was young. Standing on the bank of the stream, he watched Percy join his packmates. “Besides, does it matter? I’m strong.”

      “No, I guess it doesn’t matter. I was just curious.” She didn’t like people snooping, either, and turned the conversation in a different direction. “Thinking how long I might expect your services before you head off to vet school.”

      He suddenly seemed uncomfortable, so she switched the subject away from him and onto her operation. “My herd’s small right now because I’m just starting out. Besides, day treks with six llamas and a dozen or so paying customers are all I can handle by myself.” And for the time being, at least, she needed to remain alone.

      “Why aren’t you out on the trail today?” he asked.

      “Monday’s our day off,” she replied. “Not that the boys need it. But if I don’t take a break, work around the house and the property piles up. That’s where you’d come in.”

      “Did you ever think of breeding? Seems like it would bring in more money than trekking.”

      She didn’t care about the money. In fact, a small, obscure operation was just what the doctor had ordered. She’d experienced the personal pitfalls of a big enterprise. But she wondered why a kid who looked like he was in middle school cared about business.

      “What made you think of the moneymaking aspect?”

      “My mom’s in banking,” he replied with a shrug. “I can’t avoid the subject.”

      “To answer your question,” she said, strangely at ease talking to this kid as if he were much older, “I think I’ll stick to trekking. Adding females to a herd leads to a whole other set of challenges. They’re not particularly willing pack animals, and they can be moody.”

      Rory seemed to be taking mental notes. “How come you advertised for stable help,” he asked at last, “when you said the llamas rarely go into the barn?”

      “Force of habit. I grew up with horses. Even though the llamas stay for the most part in the pasture, the barn’s full of tack and trekking equipment, and you’d be helping keep that in order.”

      Led by Percy, the five other animals had begun to drift over to the creek bank where the humans stood. Curiosity. Cats had nothing on llamas. Rory stood still. Not nervous, but waiting. Exuding a calm energy that, too, belied his years.

      The three other kids who’d come seeking the job had been either too talkative or too boisterous in their movements or too touchy-feely. Llamas, like people, didn’t wish to feel assaulted and, as cuddly as they appeared, didn’t particularly like being snuggled or petted. They, more than she, had decided to pass on those first candidates.

      She pointed to each llama in turn. “That’s Percy. You already met him. He’s what’s called a paint. Then there’s Mephisto, the bay. And Fred, the piebald. Mr. Jinx is an Appaloosa. The white one’s Ace. And finally Humvee, the black and tan.”

      “Their coats are so different they’re easy to tell apart.”

      “You’ll learn you can recognize them as easily by personality.”

      Percy chose that moment to lean close and snuffle Rory on the neck. His muzzle, dripping with mountain creek water, must have been cold, but the kid stood his ground, merely chuckling. “What’s he doing?”

      “He’s saying, ‘You’re hired.’”

      “For real?”

      “For real. Percy’s chairman of my interview committee. Can you start today?”

      “I’ll have to ask my dad when he comes back.”

      “Of course.” She hadn’t paid attention to how Rory had managed to get to her farm. He’d simply shown up in her barn at the agreed-upon time as she’d been cleaning tack.

      “He shouldn’t mind if you could, maybe, give me a ride home when I’m done.”

      She tried to hide the reflexive wince. “Sorry. I don’t drive.”

      Rory shot her a disbelieving look, but she was spared an explanation by the staccato double toot of a car horn. Partway down the hill, a cruiser had pulled up in front of the barn. The driver’s door opened, and the sheriff got out.

      “That’s my dad,” Rory said, heading downhill. “I’ll tell him you want me to start now. I can walk home. I’ve walked farther. Other days I can ride my bike.”

      She didn’t really want to meet the sheriff—she didn’t need her second chance at life beginning with a connection to law enforcement—but, as an employer, she should say hello to this kid’s father. So she set her shoulders and marched down the hill.

      The boy and the man approached each other as if they weren’t entirely at ease. After exchanging a few words, which Samantha couldn’t hear, Rory came back up to her, dejection written on his features.

      He looked at the ground as he spoke. “I can start today, but…I didn’t tell you everything. Maybe you won’t want me for the job.”

      “Try me.”

      He looked back at his father, who remained by the cruiser. “I’m only here for the summer. In September I go back with my mom. To Charlotte. Unless….”

      “Unless?”

      “Let’s just say I can only promise you two months. The ad didn’t say it was a summer job.”

      Percy felt comfortable with this kid. And so did she. Besides, two months to a person who was learning to live one day at a time seemed like forever. “Two months will be fine.”

      “You mean it?”

      “Sure. But years from now I might ask you for a vet discount. Who knows?”

      His only answer was a heart-melting grin.

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