How to Knit a Love Song (8 page)
She was taking her time going through the cottage. It was going to take a lot of work, but it wasn’t as hopeless as she’d thought, now that she knew the bags and boxes weren’t trash. A good cleaning was going a long way toward renovation. True, she’d need a new roof before winter settled in, and a couple of windows needed fixing, but the toilet was going to be fine if it was reseated, and the kitchen seemed to be okay.
She’d had an exterminator in about the bat. He fixed the hole in the wall where it had come in and promised her that he had taken care of the problem. She prayed he was right.
Abigail drove into Cypress Hollow to talk to a plumber about the toilet. She made an appointment with him, and he welcomed her with a warmth that seemed genuine. His wife invited her to a book group the library was starting. It felt good, this beginning.
Driving back to the house, Abigail passed a sign that said, “Alpacas. Going out of Business, All Must Go. Sweet Animals.”
Alpacas.
The best, finest, softest fiber, one of her favorites to work with. Maybe they were selling fleeces.
She pulled over and drove through the open gate in the direction the arrow on the sign pointed.
An older man wearing overalls and a railroad cap waved at her.
“Want a couple of alpacas?”
She shook her head and smiled. “Only interested in the fiber. Have you sheared lately?”
“Eh, never got into all that, just sheared and threw it out. Supposed to make money on the babies, but it wasn’t the money she thought she’d get.” Abigail tried not to look horrified. He threw the fiber
out?
He went on. “These were my wife’s animals. She’s dead now, and they gotta go. You can have ’em cheap.”
“I have no place to put them.”
The man looked at her closely, then looked out at her truck. “Ain’t you the gal that moved in with Cade MacArthur up to Eliza’s old spread?”
“Wow. The jungle drums are beating. Yes, I am.”
“Cade has room. He told me once he loved the ’pacas, and he wanted a couple. He has that extra room off the back of his little second barn, out at the cottage, that would be perfect for them.”
He looked at her closely. “Make a nice gift for him, probably.”
Abigail narrowed her eyes. Was she being taken? She
did
have that little shed thing out behind the cottage, but she hadn’t really looked at it yet.
“If you take the male and female, I’ll throw in the dog.”
“The
dog?
” Abigail had wanted a dog for a while now, but was now the right time?
“That one over there.” He pointed over to the porch. “I’m gonna have her put down if no one wants her, and no one does. Border collie, y’know. Best dog made.”
“If she’s the best, why don’t you keep her?”
“Wife just died.” His voice broke. “I’m outta here. Going to sail to Hawaii. Don’t need a dog. But you’ll need a dog with the alpacas.”
“Really?”
“Well, maybe not. They’re pretty good and quiet. I’ll just have the dog put down, then.”
Abigail felt her control of the conversation spiraling. She sighed. “Let me see the dog.”
Don’t take your knitting so seriously. It’s supposed to be fun, remember?
—
E.C.
C
ade heard Abigail calling his name, and it sounded frantic. Was she hurt? He left the barn at a run, down toward the house.
“Cade! Help!”
Cade ran faster. Had she fallen? Did she have a medical condition he didn’t know about?
Where the hell was she?
He rounded the corner of the house, and saw her, over by her truck, parked near the cottage. An old trailer was pulling out of the driveway—was that Mort’s truck dragging it?
He kept running, but slowed a little when he noticed that she appeared to be smiling. Grinning, actually.
And what was next to her?
Good God. She hadn’t.
“Alpacas! Look!”
“Are you
kidding
me?”
“No! They’re the cutest things ever!”
“I thought you were hurt.”
She had the good grace to look chagrined. “I’m sorry. I just thought the boy here was getting away, but Mort put him on a tighter lead and tied him to the fence.”
“You got alpacas.”
“You don’t like them?” Her smile faded.
“I don’t know much about them. I know enough to know I didn’t want any on the property.”
“But I’ll keep them in my little barn. You won’t even know they’re here.”
“What do you know about livestock?”
“Not very much. But Mort told me what I had to feed them, and he gave me some stuff to start off with, and he said they were gentle. And then I can shear my own alpacas.”
“And do what?”
“Spin the fiber into yarn! It’s the softest stuff. I’ll make you socks.”
He snorted before he could help himself. “Alpaca socks? I can’t even imagine.”
He heard something from her truck and turned to look at what was causing the bumping noise.
“You got a dog.” She didn’t do anything halfway, did she?
“Not just any dog. She’s a border collie.”
“And let me guess, you don’t know much about border collies.”
“You do? Can you tell me? She’s the sweetest thing ever.”
“And probably the smartest thing ever, too. I’ve got two of them that live in the barn and work the sheep. They’re smart enough that I wouldn’t leave out a can opener near a can of tuna.”
“Mort said she was smart!”
“How did he talk you into all this?”
Abigail smiled and reached to pet the head of the female alpaca, but the animal shied away and moved away as far as she could on the leash.
“His wife died,” she started.
“Three years ago,” said Cade.
“What? He made it sound like it was yesterday. But he’s sailing to Hawaii soon, so he had to get rid of the dog.”
“He’s no sailor. He just bought a new tractor. He’s not going anywhere soon. And he’s been trying to get rid of those beasts since Mary passed.”
“He told me you wanted alpacas. That you would think they were nice.”
He couldn’t help laughing now. It was too funny: her earnest, excited face, Mort taking her for all she was worth. “A nice gift? I’ve been giving him a rash of shit ever since he let his wife buy them. They’re always getting loose and running down the highway. She said she was going to raise and sell them, but he never saw a dime. And where are you going to keep the babies? You can’t fit more than two out in the shed.”
She glared at him. “I don’t need baby alpacas, not yet, anyway. Two is enough to start with. Their fiber will keep me happy and busy. They’re sweet and wonderful and I love them.”
He was surprised she didn’t stamp her foot after saying this.
“They have names?”
“Yes.”
“Wanna tell me?”
“You’ll laugh at me.”
“Would I do that?”
“Yes, but I’ll tell you anyway. Merino is the boy here, the darker one. Tussah is the pale girl. She’s the sweet one, but they’re both wonderful and I love them.”
“Merino, like the sheep? And Tussah I’m guessing is something in your fiber world.”
“A kind of silkworm.”
“You named alpacas after a sheep and a worm?”
“You said you wouldn’t laugh.” She turned her back on him and moved to start untying the male from where he was attached to the fence.
“Where are you going to put him?”
“I told you, in my shed.”
“You already set it up?”
“Mort said that they only need a little space and an overhang to get out of any weather that might come along.”
“Have you checked that fence back there? I haven’t used it in a long time.”
She looked at the ground, her cheeks flushing. He couldn’t tell if it was in anger or not, and he didn’t like it. He was used to being able to read women at a glance. They didn’t usually challenge him. This one, she was a challenge.
None that he couldn’t handle though.
“I looked,” she said. “I can’t see any holes in the fence.”
“Want me to look for you?”
Her eyebrows drew together and the smallest crease appeared between her eyes. It satisfied him. He’d gotten under her skin. Finally.
She didn’t want to say yes. He knew it.
“Okay, I guess. If you want. But I think it’s fine.”
Cade smiled and went around the back of the small barn, leaving her to deal with the alpacas and the dog, which was now barking its head off inside the cab of the truck. He could hear his dogs barking in the barn in agreement.
God, this shed. When Eliza had lived here, she’d used it for chickens, although when Cade had taken over, he’d built a real coop farther down the hill. He didn’t like to hear and smell chickens early in the morning—he preferred a little distance between him and the roosters crowing.
Not that they ever got up before him, come to think of it.
It was an adequate shed, though. Even though he’d been giving her crap about it, it was a fine little building to shelter two alpacas. Any more than three and they’d be pushing it, and he figured she’d have three before long, since there really wasn’t a way to separate them in this tiny shed.
The fence line did look all right, he thought, testing several places with his hand, and then his boot. That was Tom’s doing, not his. Cade stayed active and on top of all the areas they were working, but he tended to overlook places like this, places not in use.
Vanity pets. On his ranch. He supposed he was going to have to accept it, at least until she gave up and left, which hopefully would be sooner rather than later, but alpacas! On his land!
God. He’d look like a pyramid-scheme fool if anyone drove the top ridge road and looked down.
He came around the shed and met her back at the truck.
“Looks good,” he said.
“Hmmph,” she said, which sounded an awful lot like an I-told-you-so.
“Where are you going to keep their feed?”
“In the shed with them.” She sounded uncertain, though.
“They’ll get to it.”
“Oh. Um. What about that shack over there?” Abigail pointed to the old shack a hundred yards away. It was still faintly purple from a paint job Eliza had him put on it when he was a teenager.
“No room. It’s junk in there, just tools and stuff. And, by the way, that’s my shack. Not yours.”
“Big Rubbermaid containers? Would that work?”
He inclined his head. It would probably work. If she got
big
containers.
“So you’re breeding them?”
It was a low blow, and he knew it. She already looked completely overwhelmed, holding a lead in either hand, glancing back over her shoulder at the increasingly frantic dog in the truck.
“No! At least not for a while.”
“I give you until tomorrow.”
“Oh, God, will they really?”
“Alpacas are induced ovulators.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“Adults go into estrus during sex. Sex makes them receptive, actually fertile. Then you’ll have a bouncing baby cria in about eleven months.”
“From tomorrow.”
“Tonight, if you’re lucky.”
“Mort kept them apart?”
“I never saw them together, let’s put it that way.”
“But I have no way to keep them apart.”
“You could make money on a baby, pay for your…”
“My overenthusiasm. I know. I’m used to it, don’t worry.” She looked at him and brushed the heavy hair out of her face, her blue eyes lighter than he’d seen them before.
“Well, okay, then,” said Cade lamely.
“Thank you. I’ll put them away.” She spun away, taking the male, Merino, with her, leaving the female tied to the fence, gazing after them.
They really were kind of cute, he figured, with those big eyes and fuzzy topknot.
Not that he would ever admit that out loud.
He had work to do.
Cade put his head down and walked away, refusing to look back to see how she did.
The body of a sweater is the most delicious part. You can sink into it and feel the personality of the pattern and the yarn marrying in your talented hands.
—
E.C.
A
bigail got the animals inside the fenced shed area. They followed her willingly, and while they were both head-shy and didn’t appear to want to be petted, they didn’t seem afraid of her. They were much more unsettled by the sound of the dog’s barking, and appeared to relax when they got around back, away from the truck.
Rather reluctantly, not knowing whether she’d ever get control of them again, Abigail took them off lead when they were inside the fenced enclosure.
“You’re free!” She looked around. “Kinda.”
She went back to the truck and smiled at the dog, who appeared to be chewing on the seat. “Hang on, I’ll be right there,” Abigail called to her.
Mort had set her up with everything she’d need, he said. He’d given her vitamin supplements (“free, I’m giving you these ’cause I like you”) and feed buckets. He’d filled the back of her truck with hay, on the house, courtesy of his late wife. “Feed ’em the grass hay, no alfalfa, that’s too rich for ’em,” he’d said.
She now stood back from the truck and looked at its bed with satisfaction. Not that she had any idea of the difference between grass and alfalfa, or even if he was feeding her a line of bull, but it sure felt good to be using her truck for something that wasn’t moving a couch, as Cade had put it.
She went to grab a bale and bring it to the critters, who had to be hungry from their ordeal.
She pulled.
Damn. Apparently hay was heavy. She used her hands to pull some apart from the top level. The stuff was coarse. She’d need gloves.
She’d probably need a lot of things.
She did her best, leaving food in a low tray in the shed, and filling the water buckets after making sure they were clean. She’d need a book on alpacas. Or better yet, the internet would surely answer all her questions.