Free Beguiled by Paisley Smith Page A

Grayson, and all the field hands gone. Besides, even if we could pick it and bale it, we couldn’t get it out of the country and sold.”
    “What do you do for money?” She’d accurately assessed the situation.
    I shrugged. “There’s no money to be had.”
    We walked the rest of the way in silence. Alice took in the scenery as we crossed the creek and passed the cabin. She said nothing when I moved the brush that hid the path to where I kept the herd.
    This early in the morning, each blade of grass and each leaf glistened in the delicate morning light. I couldn’t decide which time of day held more magic, dawn or dusk.
    And now, added to that magic, night.
    When everyone else was asleep, Alice and I created magic of our own. No one knew. No one suspected. Even now, as I walked beside her, my skin tingled from being so close to her. Every part of me sang with awareness.
    Brownie bounded toward us. I patted her head and praised her, and then she immediately stuck her curious nose in Alice’s crotch. Alice swatted her away.
    “It’s all right, Brownie,” I said. “Alice is a friend.”
    I turned to Alice. “She’s very protective of the herd.”
    “The herd?”
    As if on cue, Jeff Davis let out a long, loud bleat. Alice stopped as the massive buck trotted toward us. I chuckled realizing how intimidating he must look with his wide rack of horns and those blazing eyes.
    “Is he…friendly?” Alice asked, stepping behind me. She gripped my shoulder with one hand as if I could come between her and Jeff if he took a notion to dislike her. Her other hand readied the crutch to do battle.
    I laughed out loud. “Uh…sometimes.” I pushed the tip of the crutch back toward the ground.
    As if Jeff could sense Alice’s fear, he pranced and pawed at the ground with one hoof. When he neared us, he stood up on hind legs and pinned Alice with a sideways stare, challenging her.
    Her fingers tightened on my shoulder.
    I grinned. My little old goat scared this tough Yankee tomboy. I seized Jeff by one horn and gave it a shake. “Stop showing off, you old fool.”
    He dropped down on all four hooves and grunted. I scratched his head and between his horns. “This is Jefferson Davis,” I told Alice.
    She burst into laughter. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he does look like old Jeff Davis!”
    “Come and meet the rest of the herd,” I said, holding Jeff by one horn as we walked toward the makeshift barn. “Everyone ridiculed my pa for owning dairy goats, but no one’s laughing now. These goats provide all the milk for us and our neighbors now that the soldiers have taken the rest of the livestock.”
    And then an awful thought occurred to me. “You wouldn’t tell anyone about the goats, would you?”
    Alice cupped my cheek, and the touch was so oddly intimate it made my stomach somersault. “We have too many secrets between each other to betray one another’s trust,” she said softly.
    Breaking the spell, the melodic sound of goat bells jangled as the does trotted up to be milked. I turned toward the herd, encouraging them as they approached. I tried to act as if the unexpected caress hadn’t affected me, but suddenly every movement, every step, every breath, every blink of my eyes seemed exaggerated.
    “I don’t suppose you’ve ever milked a goat before,” I said.
    Again, she graced me with a wry smile that deepened the lines in her thin face.
    “Have you ever milked a cow?” I asked.
    She shook her head.
    We climbed the two stone steps into the old cabin alongside the goats. Alice seemed far more leery of the gentle animals than I would have guessed. Her reaction amused me.
    “First, I fill the bucket with feed or sometimes hay,” I said, demonstrating. “The does like alfalfa the best, and the more they enjoy their feed, the easier they are to milk.”
    I gave Isis a pat on the head. “This is Isis. She’s my fussy one. I always use a fresh pail with her because she tends to kick.”
    “They kick you?”