Page 77 of We Redeemed the Rain

TWENTY-FOUR

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We made decent time. By 10 a.m. we’d taken care of all the sheep and chickens, had turned the horses out, and ran into town for a few items from the feed store. When we got back, it was mucking time. I wordlessly grabbed a pitchfork off the wall and pushed a wheelbarrow up to the first stall.

I needed a moment of silence to figure out what was going on with me. I’d had an honest-to-goodnesspepin my step all morning. I typically worked hard and never complained, butbouncingthrough the day was a first. I knew the truth—Bea made me feel lighter, but my head didn’t know what to do with that.

Her meeting Tillie, the way she’d melted and cooed over the horses, and how she never stopped hovering at my back, her questions and chatter…all of it was wreaking havoc on my norms.

Bea pointed at my tools. “Are there more?”

“Nope.”

I glanced back in time to see a singular eyebrow pull into a doubtful arch. “You only haveonepitchfork on this entire ranch?”

“Yep.”

“You’re lying.”

A smile played at the corner of my mouth, but I suppressed it and buried the prongs into the wood shavings on the ground, shaking it until only the manure remained, then dumped it into the wheelbarrow. “Better back up if you don’t want me to toss crap on you.”

She crossed her arms. “Seriously, I want to help. Where is another one? Or maybe a shovel or something.”

I didn’t answer, just kept mucking.

“Okay,fine. I’ll have to find one myself.” She left the stall. Barn doors squeaked open and closed. Even boards creaked overhead as she checked the hayloft.

I chuckled to myself. She was ice cold.

Ten minutes later, I’d moved on to the next stall. She returned with a frustrated huff. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d just tell me where I can get another dang pitchfork.”

“I don’t want you muckin’ stalls. Get over it.”

“Why? ”

I snorted at that.

“Ah. I get it. You think this is fun and want to hog it all up for yourself. Getting that one-on-one manure time.”

One-on-one manure time?I couldn’t hold back the laugh growing in my chest. “Well, shit. Guess you got me figured out.”

She gasped so loud and suddenly, I startled.

I turned, gaping at her in question.

“Samuel Taggart! Did youjust make ajoke?”

“What? No, I didn’t.”

“You totally did. You used sarcasm.”

I huffed, shoving the fork into the shavings again.

“This is a momentous occasion.” Her playful tone egged me on.

“What are you talkin’ about? I crack jokes all the time.”

“I’ve never heard one.”

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