Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Thaddius makes eight or so more stops there while I’m looking all around like a sopping mop, still half-blind.
“That’s probably all of them,” Thaddius yells to be heard over the roar of the storm. “The rest will have hidden out somewhere.”
“There are two in the house!” I yell back.
He looks at me blankly, rainwater running off his head like he’s standing under a downspout. It must be running off of mine the same way. I just didn’t notice because it’s everywhere. “What?”
“I let two in before the storm. They wanted to come in. They were scared.”
“Okay. Okay, good.”
“You don’t mind that they’re in the house?” I ask, futilely trying to blink rainwater out of my eyes.
“They might have pooped on the furniture, but it’s not great anyway. I’ll clean up if they did.”
I think he might be the only person in the world who would say something like that. I haven’t met anyone who wouldn’t be horrified.
“On three?” he asks.
I nod.
He grabs my hand and runs without counting us down. The pain of the rain is brutal, and I’m glad Thaddius has my hand tucked in his strong, calloused one, or I wouldn’t make it to the house. I’d be fumbling around in the wrong direction, probably running away from shelter from the rain.
Also? His hand. Sweet baby chickens.
We stumble up onto the porch. Then, Thaddius releases my hand and steps back. He watches as I slick the hair out of my face. I’ve never been so drenched in my life. “It’s going to let up soon.” He has that gentle authority that comes with knowing one’s own land. “There weren’t any weather warnings, and it came out of nowhere and picked up fast. It’s just passing over.” He looks at me with a funny expression, and then he laughs. “My god, we both look like we’ve been at the business end of a pissing contest with the sky.”
“I’d say that’s fairly accurate.”
We squish our way inside. Literally. Our footwear has become less cowboy and shitkicker and more like sponges.
I resist the urge to wring my hair out right there on the inside braided rag rug. “Well, that was an adventure.”
“Thank you for your help. You were so brave,” Thaddius says.
“You saved me from the charging donkey. I’m hardly the brave one.”
“He would probably have swerved to miss you, but I wasn’t taking any chances.”
I nod, still thankful that he has such fast reflexes. “He was just scared.”
“Yes. All the animals get nervous when it storms like this.”
All of a sudden, a pitiful meow turns into a low howl just outside. I whip open the door, and a black cat shoots in, shaking rainwater from its fur as it bounds around the house. This is clearly the third cat, and these are his terms. At least, I hope it’s the third one. It would be hilarious if it weren’t, and this was just some random cat Thaddius doesn’t own or know. Now that I have the door open, I also spot three chickens huddled up on the far side of the porch.
“You might as well come in too.” They don’t need much encouragement. They cluck and coo as I herd them through the door.
Thaddius’ brows shoot up to his hairline, or maybe his hairline has been drenched enough that it’s drooped down enough to meet his brows. This time, I’m the one who starts laughing, but he joins in.
“My god, what a day,” I say with a loud exhale.
“What a life,” he agrees.
Despite the rain and the pain of the wind driving into my face, nearly getting run over by a donkey, and my basic ineptitude at all things to do with a farm, it feels good to be standing here right now. Like out there, we were a team. We did it together, getting all the animals in. I can’t take much credit for it because Thaddius did most of the work, but I helped. At least they’re not out in the rain, and they’re not scared. That was us, working on it the best we both could, getting something accomplished.
It feels more than good. It feels like a hot shower, a fresh change of clothes, and a hot cup of coffee.
Sure, it still feels like the whole thing might be hella wrong, but this…this is right.
CHAPTER 13
Thaddius
We’re still standing at the door, sopping wet. The chickens are walking around. There are five of them in here now, and they seem just as comfy and happy as if they were outside or in their coop. They’ll make themselves at home. I just hope the rain lets up before the real crapping fest begins. I don’t mind cleaning up a few poos, but five chickens? They can create a real mess.
The cat, Butterscotch, is a wet mop. Don’t ask me why he’s named such because he’s not creamy or toffee-colored. He’s a midnight black long-haired cat, but he came with the place, and he also came with the name because the guy who owned the farm before I took over seemed to name the animals willy-nilly as he saw fit. Anyway, he looks just like us…like we were caught in a torrential downpour. Because, yeah, we were.