Free Redemption Road (Jackson Falls #5) by Laurie Breton Page A

sheep.”
    If it wasn’t the dead-last thing he’d expected her to say, it ran
a close second. “I did. And they did.”
    “I’d like to pick your brain. I’m thinking of buying a few, and
I’d really like your input.”
    “Buying a few,” he said blankly, and met Rob’s startled eyes. “A
few sheep.”
    “Sheep?” Rob said, as if he’d never heard the word before.
    “Sheep,” Casey clarified. “As in baa-baa .”
    “I know what sheep are,” her husband said. “I’m just a little…ah…surprised.
Just when were you planning on telling me?”
    Harley hazarded a glance at the ice princess, who was watching
this little exchange with a rapt expression. She glanced at him, raised her
eyebrows, and returned her attention to the drama that was going down at the
end of the table.
    “I’m telling you now,” Casey said. “We have acres and acres. I was
raised on a dairy farm; I know animals. And I was in 4-H. I raised my own prize
heifer. We won a blue ribbon. I bet I never told you that.”
    “You didn’t.” The expression on Rob’s face was priceless, alternating
between pride and horror. “Knowing you, it doesn’t surprise me. But why sheep?”
    “You should be grateful that I don’t want cows. They’re huge, and
messy, and they have to be milked twice a day. Sheep are much more manageable,
and you can make lovely things from their wool.”
    She turned back to Harley. “I’ve been thinking about trying my
hand at dyeing and spinning yarn. I’d like to use my own wool. But I don’t know
a thing about raising sheep, or even if it’s within the realm of possibility. I
thought you might be able to fill me in.”
    “Well, ah—” He tried to ignore the way Rob was looking at him,
nostrils flared, as if daring him to take a misstep. Harley cleared his throat.
“You have to realize that it’s been a while. But as far as I can recollect, my
experience with sheep was that they’re dirty, mean-tempered, and quite
incapable of any form of critical thinking.”
    “Oh, but those sweet little faces,” she said. “I just want to
shower kisses all over them.”
    “That may be, but they’re a bit intellectually challenged. You
know their reputation. There’s a reason why clichés become clichés. If one damn-fool
sheep grazed too close to the edge of a cliff and fell off into the sea, the
rest of the herd would just jump off right behind him.”
    Colleen made a funny little sound. He shot her a quick glance, but
she lowered her eyes and demurely lifted her iced tea.
    “As a matter of fact,” Casey went on, “I’ve read that sheep aren’t
nearly as stupid as they’re reputed to be. Yes, they play follow-the-leader, but
that’s because of their herding instinct. Did you know that they can recognize
human faces?  That might not involve critical thinking, but I’d have to
categorize it as a form of discriminatory thinking. Certainly more than simple
instinct.”
    “In that case,” he said, picking up a buttered yeast roll,
“they’re probably higher on the intellectual scale than a few folks I’ve run
into who just graduated from Harvard Law.”
    Rob coughed into his hand and said, “Babe?  I’m thinking this is
something we need to talk over. Later. In private.”
    She opened her mouth to argue with him, and her sister let out a
little shriek. Harley turned in her direction just in time to see Ginger, one huge
paw braced on the table top, scarfing down what was left of Colleen’s meatloaf.
    “Ginger!” Annabel scolded. “Bad dog!”
    Harley closed his eyes. Counted to ten. Opened them again, raised
his empty wine glass, and said to Colleen, “Would you mind passing that bottle
down the table?  I’m definitely overdue for a refill.”
     

Colleen
     
    Her Ferragamos tucked under her arm and her feet tucked into warm
boots, Colleen stood with Harley Atkins on her sister’s front steps as the snow
fell, silent and lovely, around them. There was something magical about this
kind of