Read Online Shepherd's Crook by Sheila Webster Boneham - Free Book Online

but she got up and gave me a hug. “Congratulations! I understand Mr. Jay did you proud at the roundup.” She seems to envision herding events as something akin to John Ford films, albeit heavier on sheep and dogs than cattle and horses.
    â€œHe did that,” I said. We’ll ignore the part where he ran a flock of sheep over me. Twice. The message light on my phone was blinking, but I ignored it and peered into the fridge. “I’m starving,” I said, half hoping Goldie would invite us over for one of the fantastic concoctions she’s so good at whipping up.
    I turned to her. “What are you so sore about?”
    Goldie snorted. “Your new neighbor.” The last word came out in a tone I’m not used to hearing from Goldie. Pure sarcasm.
    â€œThey’ve moved in?” I glanced at Tom and he shrugged.
    â€œHe. Just one, and believe me, he’ll be more than enough if today was any indication.” Goldie rocked the bottom of her Ol’ Woody pale ale at Jay and Drake where they sprawled on the floor. “He’s not happy about them.”
    Pixel sauntered into the room, jumped onto Goldie’s lap, and relaxed into her arms. “Totem is such a wiggleworm, the only time he does this is late afternoon. He’s too wound up the rest of the time.” Totem was Pixel’s litter-brother . Goldie and I, and Detective Hutchinson, had adopted the three-kitten litter after a friend took in their feral mama and her brood, and we loved to compare notes as they grew. Goldie sat back and sighed. “We had just a quick encounter this morning, but it was enough. He’s a jerk.”
    Tom and I exchanged a glance, and Tom asked, “Totem is a jerk?”
    â€œHeavens, no! The new neighbor, what’s his name. Martin. Yes, that’s it. Martin.”
    â€œSo what makes you say this Martin is a jerk?” I asked.
    â€œFirst of all, I never trust a man who hides behind reflective sunglasses. They seem sneaky to me, and they give me flashbacks.”
    Goldie marched for civil rights and against the war back in the sixties, and she had spent more than a few nights “in the pokey,” as she put it. I wish I’d known her then, but I knew my mother, and that was pretty close. Mom hadn’t been doing so well for a couple of years, but Goldie still burned with a soft and steady flame. She took the name Golden Sunshine back in the day, and as I watched the light from the window dance in her silver hair, I thought again that she chose the right name, especially back when her hair was still blonde.
    â€œHe asked me how many pets you have, and when I told him two dogs, two cats, and a new puppy coming, he said something like, ‘We’ll see about that.’”
    â€œWhat the heck does that mean?” I asked, and thought about the protesters at the herding clinic. Is there no end to people wanting to keep us from having animals in our lives?
    â€œMaybe he’s talking about that bill that’s rumored to be coming up in the city council,” said Tom. “Wait a minute—is Martin the guy’s first name, or last? That bill is the brainchild of Phil Martin.”
    â€œWhat bill?” Goldie hadn’t heard the rumors.
    â€œIf what we’re hearing is true, and the bill passes, it will limit the number of pets in any one household. We haven’t heard a solid number, but probably three to five.”
    â€œBut if they pass that …” Goldie didn’t finish the thought, but we all knew where she was going. If they passed a number on the low end of the range, Tom and I would be in violation once his house sold and he moved in with me. And now we’d have a neighbor who, based on what Goldie said, would probably report us. The number chosen was, of course, entirely arbitrary. Our three dogs and two cats would be zero nuisance to the neighbors, unlike the single Dalmatian at the other end of the block who