Free Finding Her Way Home by Linda Goodnight

she’d seen him do plenty of times, usually following a particularly exhausting procedure. The vet was tired, and having some woman on his case didn’t help.
    â€œWhy spring?”
    â€œBabies. Sheep, cows, horses. Animals give birth in spring and birthing brings plenty of other problems along with it.” He flipped on the turn indicator. “Pastor Parker lives down this road about a mile. His daughter raises show sheep.”
    â€œDoes your work ever slow down?”
    â€œA country vet stays as busy as he wants to year-round, especially the ones like me who see farm animals as well as pets.”
    â€œBeing the only vet, you don’t have much choice, do you?”
    â€œOh, sure, I have a choice, but how do I say no? The loss of one farm animal is significant to my clients. And if all farms stopped producing animals, what are the rest of us going to eat?”
    â€œVeggies?” she asked with a smile.
    He widened his blue, blue eyes in mock horror. “Woman,watch your mouth. This is cattle country. The only vegetarians are the animals themselves!”
    Cheyenne laughed and marveled at the sound. When was the last time she’d laughed with such ease? Maybe Redemption was having a positive effect on her. Or maybe the reason was the handsome veterinarian.
    She turned the idea over in her head, then left it there. A few days in his company and she was laughing again. That much at least was good. As long as she didn’t get any romantic notions in her crazy head, she’d be fine.
    â€œThanks,” she said.
    Trace’s look was quizzical. “For?”
    She shrugged. “Nothing. Everything.”
    The front wheel of the truck jounced into a pothole, tossing Cheyenne sideways, close enough to brush elbows with her boss. She braced a hand on the dash and pushed back.
    Trace made a left-hand turn, casting her an amused look. “Spoken like a true female. No wonder we men have this stupid expression on our faces all the time.”
    She wouldn’t consider anything about him stupid, especially that face. Trace Bowman just might be one of the good guys. A couple of years ago, he would have been her type. Now she didn’t have a type. Couldn’t ever have one again.
    As if she’d swallowed a brick, heaviness settled in her stomach. She’d come to Redemption for peace and escape, not for a man. Best to remember that.
    â€œIs this the preacher’s house?”
    A two-story brick home sat at the end of a short driveway.
    â€œThis is it.” He pulled into a grassy parking area next to a beat-up truck and a bronze SUV. A battered church bus was parked up ahead next to a garagelike structure.
    They slammed out of the truck. Trace took Zoey’s hand and the three of them started toward the house. Halfway there, a shout from behind turned them around.
    â€œWe’re out here, Doc.” A sturdy blonde woman in brown coveralls and work boots waved from a barn door.
    The trio crossed the wide space between house and barn. Thick clover sprouted in dark patches among the grass and put off a sweet, fresh scent. The barn was fairly new, painted red, but built in the older triangular style with a hay loft above.
    Inside, the smell was springtime, dust and hay.
    A preteen girl with a blond ponytail, clearly the offspring of the woman, waved them into a stall. Her young face was tense with worry.
    â€œShe’s been in labor too long, Doc. I felt for the lamb and it seems in the right position but Betsy can’t deliver.”
    â€œLet me see what we have.”
    After a quick introduction to Kylie, the young sheep owner, and her mother, Michelle Parker, Cheyenne moved to the corner of the stall to watch, wondering why Trace had bothered to bring her along. She was useless here. Even Zoey was more useful. The little girl positioned herself on the mound of straw in front of the ewe, gently stroking the mother sheep’s forehead while she murmured