its end.
“You can set the pails down here.” She pointed to a spot in the middle of the platform while she walked over to the headboard and poured some pellets into a trough that he hadn’t noticed before.
The imperious bleat came again.
“I hear you, Coco. You could try to be a little more polite, you know.”
She brushed past him and the air turned fresh. He inhaled, and her scent—it reminded him of a spring garden—entered his bloodstream. Something inside him tightened and became an ache different from all the others. This one sweet and beguiling.
The sky had lightened. He could see her tall, leggy form as she moved among her goats, continuing her cheerful chatter as they bumped her affectionately with their shoulders and gummed her down vest.
Wrapping her hand about the goat’s leather collar, she snapped a lead line on it and led her back to the platform.
“So this here’s Coco, my most demanding Toggenburg.” Dropping a kiss on the bony ridge above the goat’s eye, she continued, “Coco, this is Ethan. He’s going to get to know you today. Up, Coco.” She gestured, and the animal leapt onto the platform and made a beeline for the trough, her neck fitting into the vee of the headboard, which Ethan now understood served as a kind of yoke.
Quinn sat on a low bench and got to work, talking as she picked up one of the washcloths and dunked it into the bucket of soapy water. “Before you begin milking, you have to wash the udder and teats first,” she said, swabbing them with gentle efficiency. “The only good thing about this drought is that the girls aren’t playing in the mud. Frankly, I’d do a jig to see them caked in it from nose to tail. There, all done.” She set the cloth and bucket aside. “Now, watch carefully. As I said, Coco’s a bit of a diva. She gives a lot of milk but doesn’t tolerate fumblers. On the upside, if you can milk Coco, the rest of my girls will be a breeze. I’ll—”
“Wait. You intend to have me milk your goats?”
“Yup. It’s your new job. Consider yourself enrolled in Milking 101. See this? This here is a teat.” She brushed the distended teat with her index finger. “You ever handled one before?” The ghost of a grin lifted the corner of her mouth.
Damn, he liked her sense of humor. Clearly the moment had come for a little tit for tat. “I’ve had experience with something similar, but I’ve never been especially interested in milking any of them.” He paused as if considering. “Suckling, definitely.”
There was enough light to catch the fiery blush that stole over her cheeks. She cleared her throat and coughed. “Excuse me. Must have swallowed some hay.” She made a show of coughing again. “Right. Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. You’ll need to bring your A-game with Coco. Take a seat.”
He looked around. “Where?”
“Here.” She patted the space next to her. “You need to see what I’m doing.”
He shrugged inwardly. What the hell? He could give it a try. He sat, and she scooted an inch or two closer to the goat’s side.
“Watch and learn.” Quinn made a circle with her index finger and thumb. She brought it to the base of the teat until the back of her hand rested against the engorged udder. “You begin by pushing up against the udder like this and feeling for the milk. When you do, you’re going to close your thumb and index finger and draw the milk down, the rest of your hand squeezing as you do.” As she uttered the words, a stream of milk shot from beneath her closed fingers and landed on the wood.
“Don’t you need a pail?”
“First I have to check that the milk is clear, with no dark lumps. Now that I’ve seen it’s fine, you can place the pail a few inches in front of her hind legs.”
He grabbed one of the metal pails and positioned it as instructed.
“Okay, I’m going to demonstrate again. Then I’ll start milking for real.”
As he watched her hand moving up and down, drawing milk from the
“You can set the pails down here.” She pointed to a spot in the middle of the platform while she walked over to the headboard and poured some pellets into a trough that he hadn’t noticed before.
The imperious bleat came again.
“I hear you, Coco. You could try to be a little more polite, you know.”
She brushed past him and the air turned fresh. He inhaled, and her scent—it reminded him of a spring garden—entered his bloodstream. Something inside him tightened and became an ache different from all the others. This one sweet and beguiling.
The sky had lightened. He could see her tall, leggy form as she moved among her goats, continuing her cheerful chatter as they bumped her affectionately with their shoulders and gummed her down vest.
Wrapping her hand about the goat’s leather collar, she snapped a lead line on it and led her back to the platform.
“So this here’s Coco, my most demanding Toggenburg.” Dropping a kiss on the bony ridge above the goat’s eye, she continued, “Coco, this is Ethan. He’s going to get to know you today. Up, Coco.” She gestured, and the animal leapt onto the platform and made a beeline for the trough, her neck fitting into the vee of the headboard, which Ethan now understood served as a kind of yoke.
Quinn sat on a low bench and got to work, talking as she picked up one of the washcloths and dunked it into the bucket of soapy water. “Before you begin milking, you have to wash the udder and teats first,” she said, swabbing them with gentle efficiency. “The only good thing about this drought is that the girls aren’t playing in the mud. Frankly, I’d do a jig to see them caked in it from nose to tail. There, all done.” She set the cloth and bucket aside. “Now, watch carefully. As I said, Coco’s a bit of a diva. She gives a lot of milk but doesn’t tolerate fumblers. On the upside, if you can milk Coco, the rest of my girls will be a breeze. I’ll—”
“Wait. You intend to have me milk your goats?”
“Yup. It’s your new job. Consider yourself enrolled in Milking 101. See this? This here is a teat.” She brushed the distended teat with her index finger. “You ever handled one before?” The ghost of a grin lifted the corner of her mouth.
Damn, he liked her sense of humor. Clearly the moment had come for a little tit for tat. “I’ve had experience with something similar, but I’ve never been especially interested in milking any of them.” He paused as if considering. “Suckling, definitely.”
There was enough light to catch the fiery blush that stole over her cheeks. She cleared her throat and coughed. “Excuse me. Must have swallowed some hay.” She made a show of coughing again. “Right. Good. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. You’ll need to bring your A-game with Coco. Take a seat.”
He looked around. “Where?”
“Here.” She patted the space next to her. “You need to see what I’m doing.”
He shrugged inwardly. What the hell? He could give it a try. He sat, and she scooted an inch or two closer to the goat’s side.
“Watch and learn.” Quinn made a circle with her index finger and thumb. She brought it to the base of the teat until the back of her hand rested against the engorged udder. “You begin by pushing up against the udder like this and feeling for the milk. When you do, you’re going to close your thumb and index finger and draw the milk down, the rest of your hand squeezing as you do.” As she uttered the words, a stream of milk shot from beneath her closed fingers and landed on the wood.
“Don’t you need a pail?”
“First I have to check that the milk is clear, with no dark lumps. Now that I’ve seen it’s fine, you can place the pail a few inches in front of her hind legs.”
He grabbed one of the metal pails and positioned it as instructed.
“Okay, I’m going to demonstrate again. Then I’ll start milking for real.”
As he watched her hand moving up and down, drawing milk from the
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