LITMIR.BIZ

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that fit, shirts that hugged in the right places and tucked into her twenty-four-inch waistband without a struggle. And from the way Liam was looking at her, maybe he thought she looked okay, too.

      “Did you have any trouble finding the place?” she asked.

      His answer was lost in a riot of barking as Mutt, the family dog, raced from the barn and ran directly toward Liam. Jude expected her guest to run back to the safety of his Beemer. Mutt was a large, furry, Bernese mountain dog, a rescue who was so grateful for two squares a day and a comfy spot at the foot of Jude’s bed that he loved everyone. But Liam wouldn’t know that.

      “He won’t hurt...” Jude started to explain. But Liam was down on one knee, his fingers scrunched into the layers of fur around Mutt’s face. Mutt lapped his chin with his scratchy tongue.

      “Friendly dog,” Liam said, standing again and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

      “Almost too friendly,” Jude said. “Sorry about that.”

      “I like dogs. It’s okay.”

      Jude wasn’t sure that Liam liked big, sloppy, licking dogs, but to his credit, he was handling the situation. “How do you feel about goats?” she asked.

      “Goats? Can’t say that I’ve ever sorted through my feelings about goats.”

      Jude snapped her fingers and pointed to the side of the barn. “Mutt...goats! Goats!”

      The Bernese trotted off gleefully around the corner of the barn. A minute later the Dancing Falls goat herd appeared in all its braying, furry splendor. Two dozen of them. At least half tried to get a curious sniff of the newcomer.

      “I trained Mutt to open the latch that releases the goats.”

      Liam frowned. “Did you also train him to put them back again?”

      She laughed. “No. That’s my son Wesley’s job.” She handed Liam a bucket filled with feed and carried two buckets herself to a pair of troughs. “Feeding time. Most of these guys will walk around the yard and nibble at leaves and grass, but my vet concocts this pellet food to add bulk. Just dump your feed into the bin.”

      He did and seemed grateful that lunch distracted the beasts from making a meal of a guy in creased jeans. She had to give the man credit. He was trying to fit in, though his heart wasn’t in it.

      “Are the goats a permanent fixture at Dancing Falls?” he asked.

      “Nope. They are temporary. This is just a stopover until they reach their new destinations.”

      “Which is where?”

      “Central America, most likely. The goats are part of the foundation. I got the entire herd about three months ago from a farmer out in Bees Creek Township. He’d been raising the goats for their milk and to use in petting zoos, but he hadn’t figured that a few goats would cost so much to maintain. He couldn’t pay the feed bills to keep the herd healthy, so he applied to the foundation for assistance.”

      “And the goats all ended up here?”

      “They did. Actually I didn’t trust the farmer to keep them healthy, and I figured I was much better equipped to deal with them. Dancing Falls was a good choice. We have pasture land here for them to roam.”

      “You haven’t found someone else to care for them?” Liam asked.

      “I haven’t tried. I did some research and discovered a charitable organization in Central America that provides goats to families in need. Most of these goats are milk goats. Just one can keep a family in dairy products for a long time. With my plan, I’m helping the goats as well as people who need it.”

      “So, why have the goats been here three months? Shouldn’t they be on their way to Central America where they’ll do some good?”

      “I’m fattening them up. Some of them were in bad shape when they came here. Hoof disease, ribs showing. But they’re healthy now. A good dairy goat gives sixteen cups of milk a day, and as soon as they’re completely healthy I’m shipping them to Costa Rica probably.”

      “But in the meantime, you’re paying the bills to feed and care for them.”

      She squinted her eyes at him. “Somebody has to, and the foundation is willing. By the way, you’re out here because you said you might want to donate to one of the foundation’s causes.” She gazed over her herd of hungry goats. “How about this cause? Right now we’re somewhat strapped for cash. As you might imagine, being a whiz kid and all, it costs a lot to keep two dozen goats fat and happy.”

      He picked up his feed bucket. “I’ll think about it. Where does this bucket go?”

      “In the barn. Why don’t we go inside? You can meet more of the family.”

      * * *

      TRY AS HE MIGHT, Liam couldn’t manage to feel more than a passing interest in Jude’s goats. They were odd-looking creatures with their sloping foreheads, awkward gait and continuously moving jaws.

      Ruminate. He recalled the word from his high school biology class. These animals pulled up roots and plants from the soil, chewed it, swallowed, brought it back up and chewed again. Hardly Liam’s idea of fine dining. At least he’d never eaten goat, and didn’t have to hide any guilt in case Jude asked him if he had.

      “We have three horses in here,” Jude said, leading the way down the central aisle of the barn. “They are all offtrack thoroughbreds.”

      “You mean racehorses?” Liam said.

      “That’s right. My husband loved horses. He was an expert rider, quarter horses mostly, and when I learned of these horses being at risk, I immediately brought them to Dancing Falls. That’s what Paul would have wanted. You can’t imagine their condition when they were brought here.”

      She stopped to rub the nose of one large beast. “These horses gave so much when they were in training. It’s a shame that they aren’t rewarded with a nice retirement when they are no longer financially important to their owners.”

      Liam didn’t know much about horses. His mother had made him take riding lessons when he was a kid, since so much of this part of northern Ohio was horse country. He’d learned what he’d had to, mastered a few dressage techniques on multi-thousand-dollar animals and considered his education complete. He was surprised by what Jude had just said. He always thought racehorses were put out to pasture and allowed to fill their last days with peace, contentment and a diet of rich green grass and hay.

      He walked down the aisle, stopping to look into stalls. “These guys don’t look so bad,” he said.

      “Not now. I have a vet tech come out once a week to check their vitals and adjust their feed.”

      “That must be expensive.”

      She gave him a skeptical look. “Knowing we’re a charity, the tech at least gives me a reduced price.” Jude took a carrot from her pocket and gave it to a horse that had to top sixteen hands. “This guy is twenty-one years old. He probably doesn’t have too long, and he deserves to live out his life in comfort.”

      Liam continued to the end of the barn, where a stall was occupied by a large bay. When he approached the horse, the animal reared up on its hind legs and pawed the stall gate. Liam jumped back.

      “Don’t go near Titan,” Jude said. “He doesn’t like strangers. Actually he doesn’t like anyone.” She went to the gate and spoke softly to the agitated animal. Slowly the horse calmed but still pawed the ground and whinnied in some sort of equine frustration.

      “This animal had suffered the worst case of abuse I’ve come across,” she said. “He was skin and bones when he got here. He’d been whipped and beaten, drugged and hit with electrical charges while he was on the race circuit.”

      Jude took another carrot from her pocket and held it for Titan. “Is it any wonder he’s a bit cranky?”

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