Page 6 of Stray

“You’re taking too long. What is it you country people say? Shit or get off the pot?” She says while pulling food out and placing it on the counter.

“I’d like to see you try! You ever been head-butted by a testosterone-driven Billy? Because I assure you if you had, you’d be much less nonchalant.” Her gaze falls to my rope, and I notice her stiffening.

“What are you doing?” She breathes out, and I can hear the nervousness in her voice. Why is she nervous about the rope?

“I’m gonna tie him and toss him back outside like always,” I state, but she shakes her head before grabbing an apple off the counter and walking around me. She looks at Leroy before letting out a whistle.

“Come here, handsome,” her voice is low and alluring. Fuck, talk about weird feelings. Am I jealous of how she’s sweet-talking a fucking goat?

“Ozzy, no.” I hiss as she crouches down, biting a piece of apple off the core and holding it out to Leroy. The goat spits at her, and she huffs.

“Well, that’s rude. Usually, I charge an hourly rate for that kind of play.” My mother muffles a laugh at the comment, and I watch in horror as Leroy charges Ozzy, head down and horns out. Ozzy doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. Leroy stops in front of her, just shy of hitting her stomach.

“You done now?” she asks in the same low, soft voice. Leroy stares Ozzy right in the eyes before slowly walking over and taking the apple out of her hand. Leroy has never been hand-fed. He was abused by an ex-ranch hand a couple of years ago when he was a kid. Since then, despite what we’ve tried, he just wants to be left alone and is aggressive to almost anyone he comes in contact with. I’ve been told to put him down several times, but I can’t bring myself to do it. As a rancher, these animals are my responsibility, and it’s my fault he was hurt, not his. He doesn’t deserve to die just because I trusted the wrong person. Pops has a different view on it, but this isn’t his decision anymore.

I watch in awe as Leroy not only allows it but leans into Ozzy’s touch as she slowly stands and leads him out the door. Once outside, she chucks the apple out into the yard, and Leroy charges after it.

She turns back around and shrugs, “What?”

I turn to Mom, who is just as shocked as I am. “What?” I repeat, “What the hell was that? Are you a goat whisperer or something?” She rolls her eyes, returns to the kitchen, and starts making a sandwich.

“No, that’s the first time I’ve actually seen a goat in real life. I’m from Chicago originally. I’ve never seen farm animals.”

Mom lets out a breath. “Could’ve fooled us. I fully expected to be cleaning up blood and goat droppings.”

“How did you know that would work?” I ask, hanging the rope back on the wall while noting how her body stiffens, and her gaze looks at the rope as warily as Leroy looked at me.

“I didn’t.” She states firmly while finishing the sandwich before cutting it into fourths. “He was obviously scared and felt cornered. I think he was looking for someone to make him feel safe. My guess is he’s been neglected.” She eyes the rope again, and now I realize what’s happening.

“Leroy was abused as a kid by an ex-employee,” I sigh, the shame of failing that goddamn goat fills me. “The guy used to drag him around by a chain around the ne–” Ozzy slams the knife she had been using to cut the sandwich down and glares up at me.

“No one,” she says through gritted teeth. Her cheeks begin to go splotchy and… oh my god, why are her eyes glassy? “Human or animal deserves to be yanked around by a fucking chain.” She sneers as if she’s mad at me. Like I’m the one who abused him.

“What?” I look from her to my equally confused Mama. “Ozzy, no one is yanking a human around by a chain. Are you seriously upset over the rope? How else do you figure I’m supposed to handle an angry animal?”

“I did it,” she huffs before shaking her head. “No one deserves to be hurt like that.”

Mom places a hand on Ozzy, causing her to jump back and flinch. What the fuck is wrong with her? “Ozzy, sweetheart, we aren’t like that. You best believe that man had more than a talking to by Jackson and the boys. We don’t see them as products. Our animals are living, breathing creatures. We had a bad egg, and unfortunately, we found out too late for Leroy.”

“It’s not too late,” Ozzy mutters as she grabs the sandwich. “He has his walls up because he doesn’t want to be hurt again. It’s understandable, but that doesn’t mean he’s worthless or undeserving of patience and love.” She storms off up the stairs, taking the food up to Pops.

“What the fuck was that,” I mutter, and my Mom sighs.

“That is a soul that’s been shattered.” I snap my gaze from the stairs to my mother and raise a brow.

“How so?” She shrugs her slim shoulders.

“I saw it when I first saw her yesterday. But just now... someone hurt that girl. They left her broken, and she’s had to put herself back together.” My face softens as I look back at the rope on the wall.

“No one, human or animal, deserves to be yanked around by a fucking chain.”

What in the fuck happened to you, Tink?

Ozzy

“That damn goat has always been a pain in the ass,” Morris mutters as he looks away from the sandwich I placed on the tray in front of him. I slip my heels off before propping my feet on the edge of his bed.

“I like him.” I shrug while stealing a chip off his plate. Morris lets out a dry chuckle.

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