Page 91 of Cattle Stop

He drops his spoon back in his bowl. “Is she out again?” He pulls the door open, but it’s just Cheryl, her flashlight bobbing in the blue gloom of the evening, and her raincoat held up over her head.

“There’s a phone call for you,” Cheryl calls over the drum of rain. She ducks under the short porch outside his door, gray hair working loose from her braid beneath her hood. “A friend of yours? Drew?”

Of course it’s Drew, not anyone else.

The last time Cooper was in town and had cell service, he’d received a delayed text message from Drew: I need to talk to you. When Cooper called, Drew hadn’t picked up, so he’d left Cheryl’s landline number. Only later had Cooper remembered that Drew was likely in the cheese room, the three-hour time difference meaning that Drew wasn’t eating lunch like Cooper was, grabbing a sandwich after picking up a load of hay.

Cooper trails Cheryl up the stone steps to her house. It looks so cheery on nights like this, golden light shining through the windows and the garden still green and tidy from summer. Even though most of the flowers have died back since he arrived, there’s still a certain charm to the well-cared-for beds. Penny would like it, he’s thought more than once. He even snapped a picture for her, though he still hasn’t texted it.

“Thank you.” He tucks the phone Cheryl hands him between his cheek and shoulder as he pulls the door shut. “Drew?”

“Coop! What’s up, my dude?”

He can hear water running. Drew’s in the kitchen, probably. Cooper glances at the clock above Cheryl’s stove. It’s dinnertime here, so Drew’s wrapping up for the day, washing his hands over the sink.

“Everything okay?” Cooper asks.

It’s always so awkward to find a place to stand and talk on the phone in the house Cheryl shares with her wife. Nice of them to let him use it, but still, he’s left to step out of his shoes, make his way into their living room, and perch on the arm of their couch, his back toward the kitchen as if that’s any more private.

Cell service, he tells himself again. So far, that’s the only thing on his list of what he wants for his next job. That and maybe a veritable fortress of fencing.

“Everything’s great,” Drew says. “How’re the goats?”

“Opinionated.” Cooper adjusts his seat slightly on the arm of the couch. He can hear Cheryl and Kathy in their kitchen, their voices low as if not to bother him. “They’re like Houdini, or at least one of them is.”

“Escape goat.” Drew laughs at his own joke.

He sounds good. Happy. More like himself than he did all summer, that’s for sure.

“How’s it been going?” Cooper asks. “Everything all right?”

“Sure is,” Drew says. “Nice fall so far, the foliage is great. How’s it been going for you?”

“Fine.” Cooper glances at the window and the smear of rain tracking down the glass. “Raining, so same old. How’s the farm?”

“Good, good. Sadie says hi.”

“Aw, hi Sadie,” Cooper says. “How’s she doing?”

“Roasting herself in front of the woodstove. I swear, I’m going to give her an axe one of these days and tell her she’s got to help provide if she’s wanting us to go through this much wood.”

“Can’t you get the squirrels to do it?”

“Fucking won that fight, my dude. We ended up trimming back some of the branches on the maples, and without their superhighway to ship acorns in and out, they weren’t as excited about being our upstairs roommates.”

We, Cooper thinks. “Great job.” In the background, the sink runs again. “You busy? We can find another time to catch up.”

“Nah, it’s fine, doing some dishes.”

Don’t, Cooper tells himself, but all the same he asks, “Whit isn’t on them lickety-split?”

“Whit’s in the middle of a week-long battle with our new bull,” Drew says. Cooper pulls the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. “I’m making spaghetti.”

“Well, isn’t that helpful.” Cooper scratches at the back of his head. “How’s, um, how’s that going?”

“The pasta? Good.”

“The bull.”