Page 15 of Dairy and Deadly

He looked surprised. “Okay.”

She plunged onward. “I don’t know the first thing about dairy farming, but I’m anxious to learn, well…everything,” she finished breathlessly.

He nodded, looking like he was fighting a smile. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did a woman with no dairy experience end up at Johnny’s Dairy?”

“I need a fresh start,” she blurted. It was partially true, at least. She glanced away from him. “Like you, I was injured on the job.”

“What kind of job, Ashley Perkins?” he drawled.

“Police detective. Dallas PD.” She silently begged him to leave it at that. “Took a bullet during a raid.” She pointed at her left shoulder. “Still in recovery mode, but I’m getting there.”

He whistled beneath his breath. “Your presence here is starting to make a lot more sense.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. “How so?”

Clint snorted. “Though Johnny pretends he doesn’t have a serious bone in his body, his heart’s as big as Wyoming.” He pointed down the row of cattle being milked. “Look around, and you’ll see what I mean. A lot of the bigger dairy farms separate the mother cows from their calves at birth, but not Johnny. He can’t say no to a stray cat, much less a baby calf like Brie.”

“Or a wounded police officer, apparently.” She wrinkled her nose as she finished the thought for him.

He winked at her. “You said it. Not me.”

Her thoughts flew back to the bottle-fed calves. It was entirely possible the whole dairy operation sprawled out before them was Johnny’s way of filling the void left by the tremendous losses he’d suffered. No matter how she looked at things, her new employer was a big-hearted, compassionate person, and that was a good thing.

While Clint continued to tinker with the milking machine, she caught sight of a pair of glowing eyes in the rafters above their heads. “Um, Clint?” Her hand shot out to his forearm, gripping it. “We may have a problem.” She wasn’t sure what wild critters roamed the outskirts of Heart Lake. Wolves? Panthers?

Clint followed her line of vision and snickered. “Nah, that’s just Can Opener, our resident tomcat. He keeps the mice population down.”

“Can Opener?” Her eyes widened at the name. Before Clint could answer, the cat came bounding down from the rafters, making her swallow a squeak of alarm.

She’d never before encountered such a large cat. Calling Can Opener a tomcat had to be a joke. He was bigger than a lot of dogs!

Clint glanced laughingly down at his arm that her fingers were still clawing into.

“So sorry!” She forced herself to let go of him. “I’ve never crossed paths with a wildcat before.” Can Opener prowled their way, purring loudly and rubbing against one of the cows as he approached them.

The mama cow gave him a sleepy-eyed look and flicked her tail affectionately at him.

“Oh, he’s not feral, if that’s what you mean. He’s part Maine Coon,” Clint explained as Can Opener paced closer to Ashley. “They’re big softies. Not a drop of wildcat in his blood that we know of.”

Ashley eyed the enormous feline warily. “Hello, Can Opener. I can only imagine how you got a name like that.”

“Ha! Canned cat food is his weakness.” Clint’s voice brimmed with affection. “If he so much as hears you opening a can, he comes running.”

The cat purred louder, cocking his head at her to observe her through emerald green eyes. In stark contrast to his dark face and dark legs, the rest of him was a fluffy grayish-white.

He abruptly closed the distance between them and pushed his head against her hand.

“Hey!” She ran a tentative hand over the top of his head, astonished by his friendliness. “I think I just made another friend.”

Clint curled his upper lip at her. “You smell like the calves. They’re his favorite.”

“Aw! They’re my favorite, too, Can Opener.”Especially Brie.Ashley couldn’t wait to go check on the premature heifer again. She glanced toward the door leading to the room where the four calves were playing.

Can Opener suddenly reared back on his back legs like a human and stretched upward to rest his paws on her shoulders. The movement brought them nose-to-nose.

“What an attention hog!” She rubbed the sides of his fluffy neck with both hands. “Clint wasn’t kidding about you being a big softie.”

The cowboy crouched nearby, surveying the cat proudly. “He’s every bit as clever as a cattle dog when we’re herding the cows from one field to the next.”

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