Montana Unbranded. Nadia Nichols
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yellow eyes. They had collars around their necks with plastic numbered tags dangling from them. “He said we could make a lot of money selling the cheese.”
“Is that right?” Pony said. “Do you know what Montana’s rules and regulations are for making and selling cheese from a home dairy?”
Jimmy shook his head.
“Then you can probably guess what tomorrow’s lessons are going to be about, right, boys?” she said. They all nodded. “Five goats, that’s a lot of milking. Who is going to be in charge of that?”
“Only three are milking, the other two are dry but the owner thinks they could be pregnant,” Jimmy said. He was stroking one of the goats, who seemed more interested in butting him than in being petted.
“How nice. An expanding goat dairy,” Pony said. She caught Caleb’s eye. “What’s next? Llamas?”
“I think they’re sweet,” Molly said, still holding the little girl on her hip. “I’ll buy some of your cheese, Jimmy. I love chèvre with herbs mixed in it.”
“See, we have our first customer!” Jimmy crowed triumphantly.
At that moment Ramalda rang the dinner bell. She rang it long and loud, the sound peeling out across the valley. The boys didn’t need much persuasion. They were hungry. They rushed to get the goats into the corral, lug water and bring hay. Then they sprinted for the house to wash up. The adults fell in behind, walking at a more sedate pace toward the barbecue pit and picnic tables. “Just so you know,” Joe heard Pony say to Caleb, “I am not going to be the one milking those goats twice a day.”
He heard Caleb laugh softly in reply. “They know the rules, and they know I’ll enforce them. You won’t become a milkmaid, I promise. I talked to the farmer who was selling them. He’s in his late seventies, his wife’s health is failing, so he’s downsizing his herd. These five milk goats are gentle, they’ve been well cared for and they’re all young and healthy. If it doesn’t work out and we have to bring them back to the auction, the boys will make their money back. They really did get them for a steal, and it’ll teach them all about the legal hoops a farmer has to jump through to sell home-raised and -produced product.”
“And all about milking twice a day, rain or shine, winter or summer, which includes today right after supper because three of those goats need milking very soon, and then straining the milk and pasteurizing it and making the cheese. Don’t forget making the cheese,” Pony added. “Somehow I can’t see the other boys helping out with this production.”
“They don’t have to. They didn’t buy the goats. Roon and Jimmy did.”
“Roon’s going to be working with Jessie full-time this summer and they’ll be on the road doing farm and ranch calls dawn to dusk. When is he going to have time to milk goats and make cheese?”
“Jimmy’s thirteen and plenty big enough to tackle this project by himself,” Caleb said. “Looks to me like he’s about to find out what running a goat dairy’s like.” He pulled Pony close as they walked toward the ranch house together. “Don’t worry. One way or the other, it’ll all work out. It always does.”
* * *
CHARLIE AND BADGER showed up just as Ramalda was ringing the dinner bell, and shortly after that another vehicle arrived and Joe got to meet Jessie Weaver and Guthrie Sloane, who were partners in the Bow and Arrow Ranch and lived a couple miles away in a cabin on Bear Creek. A good-sized crowd, but Ramalda and Pony handled the meal as if it were a common everyday occurrence. Joe supposed it probably was, if tonight’s Saturday barbecue was any indication of the typical menu served. He’d never seen so much food, and every bit of it was delicious. Lively banter flew around the tables, blow-by-blow descriptions of all the animals sold at the auction, talk about Molly and Steven’s wedding plans, the announcement of Molly’s pregnancy, which caused a happy babble of commotion, talk about the buffalo herd and talk about making a fortune in goat cheese. And when the boys found out Joe was a big-city cop, there was a moment of guilty silence and darting eyes followed by a barrage of cops-and-robbers questions.
“Let the man eat,” Pony said, putting another platter of ribs on the table. “Maybe if you’re really nice to him, he’ll come back and talk to you about what he does, but it’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” She took the toddler from Molly’s lap. “You need to eat, too. I’ll feed Mary.”
“I’m in love with her,” Molly said, giving the little girl up reluctantly. “Is she staying?”
Pony shifted the toddler onto her hip and shook her head. “We don’t know. Her mother was hurt in a car accident and is in the hospital. Her father can’t take care of her. Mary is my nana’s sister’s great-granddaughter. I said I would watch her until her mother was well, but we don’t know if she will get well. She was badly injured.”
“Bring her over here, Pony,” Caleb said. “I’ll hold her while you sit and eat. You’ve been on your feet all day, which you wouldn’t have to be if you let me hire another cook to help Ramalda. The boys have cleanup detail, and Ramalda will ride herd on ’em. You rest and eat.”
Joe hadn’t eaten this much food since last November’s legendary Ferguson Thanksgiving. He was about to push his plate away when Ramalda marched over to the picnic table and added another scoop of spiced beans and a fresh hot buttered wedge of corn bread. “You’re too thin,” she said, scowling her disapproval. She picked up the platter of ribs and forked three more onto his plate. “You need much good food. Eat!”
“Don’t even think about arguing,” his sister cautioned. “You won’t win.”
* * *
MOLLY CLIMBED THE porch steps after supper, holding little Mary in her arms. She sat down beside Steven and Joe with a happy sigh and plopped the toddler in Steven’s lap. “I just love this place. Those boys are great. I only wish I had a fraction of their energy.”
“You have plenty of energy,” Steven said. “Any more and I wouldn’t be able to keep up with you.”
The sun had set, the twilight was thickening and cold air sank down from the high places. Steven had brought their coats from the car and Molly put hers on. “Did you get enough to eat, Joseph?” she teased, and Joe could only groan in response. Molly’s cell phone rang and she fished it out of her jacket pocket and answered with her usual brusque, “Ferguson,” listened for a few moments during which her expression changed from sublime to serious before she stood abruptly. “My God, Dani, are you all right?” A few more seconds passed. “And you have it in the car with you, and you’re driving and talking on a cell phone?...Okay, listen to me. Hang up. You’re almost to the ranch. I’ll tell Pony you’re coming. Roon and Jessie are here...Yes, yes, we’re all here. I wanted Joseph to see the place. Just drive safe, okay? Hang up and drive!” She ended the call and looked at Steven. “That was Dani. She’s pretty upset. She went hiking up Gunflint Mountain in the Arrow Roots earlier today and found the herd of wild horses she’s been photographing, but four of them had been shot. She rescued an orphaned baby horse. She somehow got it all the way down to her car, loaded it in with the dogs and is on her way here. She just drove through Katy Junction, so she’s about ten minutes out.”
Steven pushed to his feet and handed the baby back to her. “I’ll go tell Pony.”
THE SUNSET WAS spectacular but Dani was too distraught to appreciate it. Twilight thickened into dusk. The Subaru’s headlights illuminated the dirt road ahead. She glanced over her shoulder into the back of the vehicle, where the pale foal lay flat on her side as if dead. Maybe she was. Remmie lay beside her and Winchester was in the passenger seat. Both dogs were quiet and had been since she’d lifted the exhausted foal into the back of the station wagon. The walk down the mountain had seemed to take forever, one step at a time leading the wobbly foal, yet darkness was still only hovering on the