Page 61 of Buried Roots

When I finish milking, I give the jugs to Huck because he’s going to drive them to Cut the Cheese for me. I’m sitting and petting Sir Fig A Lot when footsteps echo from the barn door. I turn to see Trinity there. “Hey Trin, what are you up to?”

She scuffs her foot. “I finished my chores, so I came over here to check on the horses. But then I also wanted to say hi to Sir Fig A Lot.” She walks over and gives his head a scratch.

This goat is a total attention hog. He’s also an escape artist, which reminds me. “I have to fix the fence so Sir Fig stops getting out. Want to help me out?”

“Sure!” A bright smile takes over her face.

I just need to keep busy so I don’t have time to think about Owen and Dakota. And hanging out with Trinity always makes me happy.

After heading to the toolbox and grabbing a hammer, a scrap slat of wood, and some nails, Trinity and I walk the perimeter of the pasture’s fence. We tug each board until I find one that’s cracked, which means it can buckle with weight—say, from a baby goat. “Here it is.”

She walks over and studies it, saying, “I can’t believe he found that.”

“I know. Crafty, huh?”

“He sure is.” She gives me a head nod that involves her whole body.

I show her how to nail the slat of wood over the crack, tugging it to make sure it’s tight. “That should do it.”

She nods emphatically. “Take that, Sir Fig A Lot.”

“He’s getting so big I’m surprised he still fits through this.”

“He is getting big because he’s eating like a piggie.”

I watch him as he approaches us before sniffing the fence. “He loves everything but Mary Louise’s pies.”

“He loves popcorn.”

I look at Trinity. “How do you know that?”

Trinity heads toward a bucket, then lifts it and grabs a brown lunch sack. “I made this for him to give him treats when he does tricks for me.”

“No way! You’re teaching him tricks?” This little girl never ceases to amaze me. “How have I not seen this?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Watch how he’ll jump over the hay bale.” She walks behind one and holds up the popcorn. He knows exactly what to do because he takes a running leap and jumps clean over, which is jaw-dropping. Then Trinity feeds him the popcorn as a reward.

“No way—I’m way impressed!” I head toward her and the popcorn. “I want to try.”

“Do it.” She has a proud smile as she hands me the bag and shows me how to get Sir Fig A Lot lined up to do the jump.

Per Trinity’s instruction, I say, “Go, Sir Fig A Lot.”

He takes a running leap over the hay bale again, and I reward him with a handful of popcorn. “That’s a good boy. You are my good boy.” Well, most of the time.

“Youarea good, good boy,“ Trinity says, smiling. “See how he can catch the popcorn from anywhere?”

“He does do that, doesn’t he?” I fold my arms as I watch him. “I wonder if I could do that?”

“Well, if I can train a goat to do it, I bet I can train you, too.” She laughs a full-bodied laugh in the way only kids can do, and it’s contagious. I find myself all smiles as I attempt to jump and catch popcorn in my mouth. After I miss a few, Sir Fig A Lot is right there, ready to pick up any pieces that fall on the ground.

“Let me try!” Trinity waves her hands in the air, and I throw pieces at her mouth as she attempts to catch them, too.

I say, “You’re better at this than I am.”

We’re both in a fit of laughter when I hear Kayla’s voice. “Trinity, you need to get home now.”

Like her mother, Kayla is naturally curt, but right now, her voice has an edge to it. Her face is uncharacteristically twisted with concern when she looks at Trinity. “You didn’t ask permission to come over here, and I went looking for you. Now you’re grounded.”

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