Page 30 of Wrong Train to Paris

The farmer’s smirk returned as he looked between the two. “Don’t worry,madòna,” he said, speaking in a thick accent. “I take good care of the kids.”

The mother goat bleated and strained to get to the gate.

The baby goats cried out for her.

Julia’s heart ached at the sight. There was only one thing to do. “We will take all of them.” She gave a nod, satisfied that she’d come up with the best solution.

The farmer looked as if he were holding back a laugh. He looked at Luc as if waiting for him to explain to his confused wife how goat husbandry worked.

Luc rubbed his forehead. “Juliette, the kids will be cared for. It is usual for her to leave them.”

“There is nothing usual about growing up without a mother,” Julia said. She’d not meant for her voice to crack. She swallowed. “I can’t do it to them. I won’t.” She crouched back down and patted the wet baby goats.

Luc was silent, and when Julia glanced up, she saw that he was watching her.

He rubbed the back of his neck again, and after a long moment, he spoke again to the farmer.

The elderly man listened, then let out a hearty laugh. He clasped Luc’s shoulder, shaking his head as if in sympathy for the poor newlywed’s plight.

Julia didn’t imagine she would have been pleased to understand his words.

Half an hour later, the rain still poured down as they started back along the muddy road toward Rivulet. Julia held the umbrella over herself and Luc, and three goats slid around in the bed of the wagon.

With every bump or bleat, Julia twisted around on the bench, worried a goat had fallen or gotten free from the ropes and jumped over the side.

“They’ll settle down in a bit, won’t they?” she asked.

Luc shrugged. “I’ve never driven an entire goat family through the rain before.”

“Well, I’m glad we brought them all. Look how happy they are to be together.” She watched over Luc’s shoulder as the babies tried to move around the crowded space, their hooves slipping on the boards. “I do wish they’d just sit down though.”

She turned back around, settling against the back of the seat. “I didn’t realize both Fleur and Coquette were mothers. What happened to their babies?”

“Mathieu’s brother, Benoit, is a breeder. Every winter, he brings his billy goat to town. Sometimes he buys, sometimes he sells. Mathieu used to keep a large herd, but now, just Fleur for milk and a few others to manage the weeds.”

“Why did we not go to Benoit for a goat today?”

“His farm is too far away. Near Pertuis.”

Julia nodded, and the conversation died away. She wished the rain would stop. Luc had to maneuver the horse around deep mud puddles, and the ride seemed to go much slower. Her arm was getting tired, so she held the umbrella in the other hand for a time.

The patter of rain on the canvas overhead had a lulling effect, and Julia’s eyes drifted closed. She jerked them open when the umbrella dropped and rain hit her face. She looked at both time pieces and saw they had been traveling only for two hours. Even with her coat and the umbrella, she was wet and cold. It seemed they were in for an uncomfortable afternoon.

Hearing a rustling sound, she turned and saw one of the little goats had gotten free. He was probing his nose into their lunch basket.

“No, that is not for you.” Julia turned around again, knelt on the bench, and leaned over the seat back, trying to push the goat away from the food. “Go back—”

The wagon went over a bump, and Julia bounced, lost her grip, dropped the umbrella, and plunged forward.

Luc caught her, saving her from crashing down into the wagon bed, but doing so meant he had to let go of the reins. He pulled her up onto the seat, made certain she was seated properly, and reached down for the reins.

Before he could grab them, the horse veered on its own to avoid a mud puddle. The wagon followed suit, but the turn was too sharp. The wheels got too close to the side and slipped off the road. Luc pulled the horse back to the center of the track, but the damage had been done. The rear wheel slipped farther down into a muddy ditch, and the wagon jerked to a stop, pulling the horse backward and sending the goats sliding forward.

Luc gritted his teeth. He flicked the reins, and the horse strained but could not pull the wagon back onto the road. The wheel slid down farther, making the entire vehicle—and all its inhabitants—lean back and to the side.

Luc jumped down to the road, his boots crunching on the gravel, and walked around the back of the wagon.

Julia climbed down to join him, holding her hands over her head in a useless attempt to keep the rain off her face. The three goats watched over the side of the wagon bed. “Perhaps we should push,” she suggested.

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