Finding Home Read Online Free PDF Page A

had liked her father. Neither was she certain he had liked her . But it had been her duty to help him out when he’d needed it. She’d tried to explain that to Brad a dozen times.
    â€œI’m saying I don’t believe anyone can make a decent living on that farm. Not in the traditional sense anyway. I think you should consider the possibility that no one’s going to want to live in that house. No one’s going to want to nickel-and-dime it on a couple hundred cattle and a few acres of barley.”
    â€œWheat,” she said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œWe raise . . .” she began, but a noise from the basement startled her.
    â€œCass?”
    â€œYes?” She’d entirely forgotten about the lambs. Number 427 had given birth to triplets, not a number any rancher desired. Twins were best, but the young ewe had only wanted one of the three. So Casie had bundled the shivering twosome inside her coat and carted them into the basement.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Brad asked.
    â€œNothing. I’m just tired.” And the lambs were awake now. Awake and raising a ruckus.
    â€œWhat’s that noise?”
    She considered lying, then felt horrible about it. Why would she lie? It wasn’t as if she should feel guilty for Number 427’s lack of maternal instincts. “The lambs are hungry.”
    â€œLambs?”
    â€œI’m bottle-feeding a couple of newborns.”
    â€œIn the house?”
    She closed her eyes and rubbed them with her left hand. “It’ll just be for a day or two, but it was raining when they were born, and sheep don’t tolerate wet conditions as well as cattle or horses or—”
    He laughed. “My God,” he said. “I’ve got rounds in the morning and a colonoscopy in the afternoon, but listen, don’t worry about finding a realtor.”
    Luckily, the cord reached the kitchen sink, allowing Casie to fill a bowl with powdered milk replacer and warm water. “I’m going to sell the place, Bradley. Really I am. I just—”
    â€œOf course you are. You’re not an idiot. In fact, according to your GRE scores you’re almost on par with me. But it sounds like you’ve got your hands full, so I’ll make a few phone calls.”
    â€œPhone calls to whom?” she asked, but as she tried to stretch a little farther, the ancient cord popped out of the jack. The receiver bobbled on her shoulder, then dropped with a soggy splash into the milk bowl. “Holy . . .” She fished around, pulled it out, and stuck the cord back into its slot. “Bradley,” she said. “Brad?” But not surprisingly, the phone was dead.
    The lambs, on the other hand, were very much alive. Alive and ravenous.

C HAPTER 4
    C asie hooked the log chain to the clavicle, mounted the ancient Farmall, and hauled the last of the rotten fencing into a pile between the cattle barn and the corncrib. She’d started work before dawn. Maybe her conversation with Bradley had precipitated this burst of outdoor cleaning. Or maybe her early efforts were due to a pair of lambs that had awakened her in the small hours of the morning. After that she’d been sleepless and restive. Clearing out the decrepit fencing felt strangely cathartic, but as she unhooked the post from the chain and drove the tractor back to the hip shed, the sun was setting and she was certain she’d be catatonic before her head hit the pillow.
    Still, her mind was buzzing with a thousand unfinished chores as she dragged herself up to the house. She’d almost reached the tilted porch when she realized she’d forgotten to check Bones’s water. The setting sun, round as a pumpkin and bloodred, had just dipped into the old elms. Chickasaw Creek, twisted as an ancient root, shone in the day’s last gasp of sunlight. But inside the barn it was dark and silent. Casie flipped up the light switch.
    There was a skitter of noise as something