Page 16 of One Hundred Humbugs

As the hours passed, they shared stories about the unexpected turns life took, their dreams, and the fears that came with starting anew. The sun climbed higher, and Ruby’s stomach growled, interrupting their conversation.

“Looks like that coffee wasn’t enough to get us through the day,” Ruby said, laughing. “I’ll try to find something we can eat in the kitchen. It’s the least I can do for all this.”

Becket nodded. “That sounds good.”

Ruby headed back into the house, leaving Becket to finish corralling the last of the goats. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that it had been hours since he hadeaten. He wondered what she might dig up from that old kitchen.

A few minutes later, Ruby returned holding two mismatched plates with a spread that was, at best, questionable. “So, here’s what I’ve got—a little peanut butter with crackers. I found some tuna, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it unless you’re up for mystery flavors. One can had corn and carrots mixed in.”

Becket took the plate, chuckling. “Honestly, this beats half the meals I’ve had on the road.”

Ruby plopped down beside him on the porch steps. “Just giving you fair warning, though—no idea how old the peanut butter is, so ... eat at your own risk.”

He took a bite. “I’ve survived worse.”

They ate in silence, but then a breeze swept through, and Becket shivered as the distinct chill of winter crept in. He glanced up at the sky, noticing how it was darkening. “Feels like the weather’s turning.”

Ruby hugged herself against the wind. “Yeah, I was thinking that, too. Do your goats have enough shelter if it gets colder tonight?”

Becket looked over at the herd, now huddled together, content after a long day of grazing. “They’ll be alright for now, but if it drops much lower, I’ll have to think about something better than what they’ve got.”

Ruby looked at him with a hint of concern. “And what about you? That tent doesn’t scream ‘warm and cozy.’”

He shrugged, finishing his last cracker. “It’s not ideal, but the truck cab’s a lot warmer than the tent. I’ve slept in there plenty of times when it gets too cold.”

Ruby glanced at the near-empty plate between them. “Well, I’m not sure this gourmet meal will keep you warm, but at least you won’t be hungry tonight.”

He wiped his hands. “It’s not half bad, especially since I didn’t have to cook it.”

She stood up, brushing off her hands. “Neither did I. And it was free, which is just about all I can afford right now.”

They both stood, the air now heavy with the promise of a chillier night ahead. Becket glanced at the yard—still a work in progress, but undeniably better than when he first arrived.

“Tomorrow, we’ll finish clearing the weeds out,” Becket said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re making good progress, but there’s still work to do.”

Ruby nodded, glancing around. “You know, your goat method is kind of growing on me.”

He nodded as he gathered his things. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bright and early,” Ruby replied, teasing. “Just don’t freeze in that tent of yours, okay?”

Becket flashed a grin. “I’ll survive,” he said, giving her a nod before turning and heading back toward the edge of the yard where his tent was pitched.

Once inside, he unzipped the flap and ducked in. The cold night air crept in with him, but he ignored it as he settled into his sleeping bag. With a sigh, he lay back, staring up at the tent’s canvas roof. But instead of closing his eyes, he found himself leaning over and peeking out of the tent flap. From his spot in the trees, he could just make out Ruby’s house in the distance. She was planning to sell it, but after a day like today, part of him hoped she’d stick around a little longer.

CHAPTER NINE

Ruby woke with the first light of dawn, her mind already racing with plans for the day ahead. The events of yesterday played through her mind—Becket’s easy laughter, the way he’d looked at her over his coffee mug, the surprising fun of watching goats demolish her yard. She shook off the warm, fuzzy feeling that threatened to take root. This was temporary, she reminded herself. Clean up, sell, get out. That was the plan.

Still, as she padded to the kitchen in her worn slippers, a twinge of ... something settled in her chest. Anticipation, maybe? Or just indigestion from yesterday’s questionable peanut butter?

The fridge greeted her with its usual barren landscape. Ruby sighed, eyeing the lone occupant—a block of cheese that had somehow managed to grow greener than the entire yard. She closed the door, half-afraid the cheese might sprout legs and walk away on its own.

“Alright, Rubes,” she muttered to herself, “time to get creative. Goat Whisperer out there deserves better than stale crackers two days in a row.”

After some rummaging through the pantry, Ruby emerged victorious with her spoils: a can of baked beans and a tin of Spam that looked like it might have survived a nuclear apocalypse.

Determined to make the best of it, Ruby set about cooking their meager feast. She dumped the beans into a pot, stirring them as they heated on the ancient stove. The Spam she sliced and tossed into a pan, where it sizzled and filled the kitchen with a scent that was equal parts nostalgic and concerning.

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