Page 103 of It's Always Sonny

Where’s Sweetness?

“Rusty,” I call. “Where is he?”

“Where’s who?” Ash asks.

“Sweetness. He’s one of the newborn goats, but his legs … he can’t walk.”

The furrow of Rusty’s brow tells me he’s almost as worried as I am. “When the limb fell, it knocked one of the boards at the back of the barn loose. He may have gotten away.”

Panic squeezes my heart like a vice. If he got out, he would have frozen last night. “No, he couldn’t have!”

Anthony is trying to load Louis into the trailer, but the llapaca ducks out and trots back over to us. He rushes right past me and then past Rusty. Rusty gives me a quick look, and then the two of us take off after him.

The inside of the barn looks even worse than the outside. The limb broke through the roof, and it crashed into the loft and part of the ladder. Two of the pens had the door torn clean off, and, as Rusty said, all the commotion from the roof knocked a board at the back of the barn loose. It’s just big enough for a baby goat to squeeze through.

But Louis isn’t running for the back of the barn. He stops just below the loft and makes a crying sound. Then another. I hold my breath. Then a little bleat calls out.

Sweetness!

Tears spring to my eyes, and I dart for the ladder, but a strong hand holds me back. I turn, expecting Sonny, but it’s Rusty. Sonny is a step behind him. He and half his family are standing in the barn, naked concern on their faces.

“You can’t climb that,” Rusty says. I want to argue, but he’s pointing up to where the limb fell. It slammed into the ladder, knocking it loose. How Sweetness managed to climb it at all is a mystery.

“I can’t leave him,” I say. “He’s too little, and he can’t help himself.”

“We’ll get another ladder,” Rusty says, but one look in the barn tells me there’s no way a ladder would fit in all this chaos. It could take hours to clear this out, and by then, the loft could collapse or something could happen to Sweetness.

“We can’t wait. I’m small enough that if you guys hold the ladder, it won’t fall.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Rusty says. “It’s too dangerous. We’ll find another way.”

“No, it has to be done now!” I say. “Someone has to help him!”

I look around the barn, my eyes lighting on every hazard, every awful way that Sweetness could get hurt.

And that’s when I see it.

My mind jumps from one obstacle to the next. A quick glance shows me where everything is anchored.

“Is the barn going to hold?” I ask Rusty.

“The whole frame is made from oil well pipe. That part will hold,” Rusty says. “But—”

“I’m going to get him.”

Sonny grabs my hand. “PJ, there has to be another way.”

I look into his intense aqua eyes, willing him to understand. “There isn’t. Can you trust me?”

My question refers to what’s about to happen in this barn, but I see the way it hits him. I see the way his forehead wrinkles, the way his eyes narrow. I see the residual pain from a time when he absolutely did trust me and I betrayed that trust. I didn’t mean it as a sweeping metaphor for our relationship, but he takes it that way.

“I want to.”

“Then do. Trust me. I promise I know what I’m doing.”

His short nod is all the permission I need. I don’t even wait for Rusty to say yes.

I kick off my boots and socks, because I can’t do what I need to otherwise. I sweep my hand in some of the dirt on the ground. It’s not chalk, but it’ll have to do.

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