Page 105 of The Worst Possible Plan

The property opened before me. Trees gave way to a wide clearing, sunlight spilling across open fields in soft golden stripes. It wasn’t what I’d expected. Somehow I’d pictured something… sterner. More sheriff. Less peaceful.

Acres of trees. Tall pines mixed with old maples surrounded the property like quiet sentries, their branches swaying gently in the afternoon breeze. The whole place smelled faintly of cedar, fresh-cut grass, and warm earth.

A big craftsman house stood between the trees with massive timber beams and a covered porch. Very manly. Very Captain Competent.

My heart hammered so hard I could hear it. Or maybe that was just blood rushing through my ears. Either way, my body had officially entered full dramatic heroine mode.

I didn’t even bother closing Sarah’s car door—again. It remained hanging wide open behind me, the engine ticking as it cooled. Future Sophie could apologize to Sarah. Present Sophie had bigger priorities than automotive etiquette.

I climbed out and hurried toward the house. Gravel crunched beneath my sneakers while every terrible possibility marched through my head. Auction. Different farms. Somebody buying Bandit. Somebody separating them. My stomach twisted tighter with every step.

“Sheriff Walker!” My voice echoed across the clearing before disappearing into the trees. No answer. Just birds singing somewhere overhead and leaves rustling softly in the wind.

Then…

Bang.

A hammer. Sharp. Solid. Definitely nearby.

Another bang followed by the scrape of wood against wood. It was coming from somewhere behind the house, around the back, hidden from the driveway.

Good. At least he hadn’t escaped into the witness protection program.

I’d finally cornered him, assuming I didn’t lose my nerve in the next thirty seconds, which remained a very real possibility.

I marched around the side of the house rehearsing everything I intended to say, my hands fisted because, well, why the hell not.

This speech had been improving steadily for the last forty-five minutes. It had drafts now. Possibly appendices.

You had no right… Strong opening. Direct. Good energy.

Where are they… Also important. Possibly lead with that instead.

How could you… Nice emotional punch. Maybe point dramatically for emphasis. Not aggressively. Firmly. There was a difference.

I rounded the final corner and skidded to a halt.

My entire body forgot the basic concept of forward movement. Forgot how breathing worked. Inhale? Exhale? Those were advanced skills I’d temporarily misplaced.

Because… because I was staring at a brand-new wooden fence that enclosed part of the backyard.

What the…

New posts. Fresh rails. The wood still pale enough that it hadn’t yet weathered under the sun. Sawdust lay scattered across the ground, and a hammer rested beside an open toolbox. Lumber was stacked neatly in one corner beside extra fence boards and unopened bags of wood shavings.

There was a new gate with heavy-duty hinges. A water trough, full and clean. Sunlight sparkled across the surface while a garden hose still lay stretched across the grass beside it.

I spotted hay bales. Three of them. Maybe four. Stacked carefully beneath a tarp beside the fence. Somebody hadn’t exactly thrown this together in five minutes.

I saw a red shed, which looked like it had recently been converted into a little barn with clean straw spilling out the doorway. The windows had been propped open for fresh air. Feed buckets hung neatly from hooks. I could even make out a salt lick mounted inside.

My brain struggled to keep up. My eyes moved slowly across the pen, almost afraid to trust what they were seeing. Like the whole thing might disappear if I blinked too quickly.

Bandit. Standing proudly on top of what looked suspiciously like an overturned water bucket because even rescue situations couldn’t convince him to behave like a normal goat.

Theo. Lazily chewing grass while pretending not to notice Bandit attempting to headbutt absolutely everything within reach.

Daisy. Calm as ever. Regal. Looking faintly disappointed in everyone else’s energy levels.