Page 9 of Tommy

“Relax, I’m coming in.”

The cats were unphased by the two of us, almost blessing us as they allowed us to enter without being pawed or clawed. The goats were a different story, rushing us and bleating. The occasional chicken cluck was heard in the distance, almost like we were being told off for being too loud.

“Stool goes on the ground, Marigold goes first, but Daisy will try and go first but Marigold annoys her if that happens,” I explained. The only other comparison I could make to it was being pee shy and not being able to go in front of someone else. “They will put their front hoofs on the stood to elevate themselves, and then the bucket goes under.” Carrying it out, Marigold and Daisy fought for a second until I hooked the loose collar around Marigold’s neck and pulled her over.

On a knee in front of the goat, the kid tugged his gloves off, a world of fear behind his eyes. I wasn’t asking him to do anything too difficult. It was always entertaining to see someone’s first time. Marigold grew impatient, bleating at us to get it over with.

His first attempt was poor, going in and squeezing her teat only made her grow impatient. I dipped to my knees with him, on the opposite side, I took his cool hand between both of mine and warmed it up with a little rub. “They’re just testing you,” I said. I could’ve been part of thetheyI was talking about. It wasn’t his fault he was here. “How long have you known Mick?” I asked, repositioning his hand on the teat and thenpinching gently and tugging. The first squirt of milk went right into the bucket.

“Oh my god, I did it,” he went again, and again in succession. “He’s my agent for my book stuff, so I met him when I was sending out queries.”

“Why do you think he sent you here?”

He scoffed. “I have writer’s block, and he told me a vacation would help, but also told me it wouldn’t be free, I’d have to work. I kinda assumed he meant work on my stuff, not on a farm.”

“A farm,” I chuckled. “It’s a ranch. There’s a difference.”

“Maybe he also sent me to learn the difference,” he snort-laughed.

Milking goats were easy, and he’d gotten the hang of it quickly. “I’m still surprised you made it all the way out here without a winter coat or anything.”

Lulling his head, he avoided eye contact. “Don’t remind me. I don’t travel much and my geography is even worse. I thought it was next to California and would be sunnier.”

“Oh boy, you got thrown into the deep end then.”

“Not the first time, and probably not the last,” he said. “But I always swim around and find shore. Although, I actually can’t swim.”

“What?!”

He wasn’t at all like I’d imagined when Mick asked me to give one of his clients a cabin for a couple weeks. There was the lack of geography and being ill-prepared for the season, but he was willing to help and work. I felt kinda bad. He was going through some stuff, in my mind built, a creative block for a creative person would send them into a depression. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

We finished milking both goats before going around with a small broom and sweeping some of the mess the animals hadmade. Midnight attacked the broom at every opportunity, while Snowflake kept her distance and hissed.

“Tell me about your books,” I said after several moments of quiet.

“They’re comics, actually,” he said. “It’s a series calledTeddy Wars, and basically, teddy bears are sentient, they come alive, and they battle each other. You know, like different teddy bear brands and such. Obviously, all fictional, but I’ve released a lot of volumes, and this last couple of months, I—” He looked to his feet, kicking at a piece of straw on the ground.

“And you love what you do?” I asked.

“I feel blessed to be able to do what I do, but sometimes, the entire world just crumbles on you, slowly, and then you can’t do anything,” he said, half-mumbling his words. “Then there’s fans, right. They’re like,take your time,but then there are the ones who tell me they need new instalments, and those are the ones that really get to me. I know what they need and want, but it’s kinda too much pressure.”

It felt like he’d been stewing on those thoughts for a while. “I guess that explains what you were doing on the floor in front of the fire place then, just thinking.”

He laughed. “I think they call it burn out, and honestly, the warmth on that fire was nice.”

I was about to do something I never thought I would. “I’ve got some soup ready back at my cabin, if you want to come back for a bowl and a roll.”

“A bowl and a roll,” he giggled. “Sure.”

“It’s a one-time deal, give you time to settle in and get acquainted with how your cabin works.” I didn’t want him to grow reliant on me. “It’s a regular tomato soup, partly from tin, but I add a lot of my own stuff to it as well.”

He smiled at me. “Don’t worry, I won’t let the people in town know you’re actually not scary.”

I tried to keep a straight face as if playing on the joke, but I genuinely couldn’t. There was something behind him, infectious, but not enough for me to call the CDC. I’d have to keep a running tally of the symptoms first; smiling and an almost affection of pity.

“Oh, also, don’t let me forget, I’ll get you some eggs and cheese I made from the goat milk,” I said. “Remind me at the main house.”

He nodded. “Will do!” He saluted.

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