Part 10 (1/2)

Mike rol ed his eyes. A goat and his wagon.

Unbelievable.

Dusk purpled the sky. It would soon be dark. ”I'l grab a couple of flashlights from my office,” he said. ”We'd better get started.”

They separated, met again at the main gate. ”Which way?” he asked.

”North,” she said, glancing at her watch. ”It's feeding time and Houdini wil be hungry. There's an empty field close by.

Goats are Weed-wackers.”

They walked at a clipped pace, Hermes on a leash between them. Mike pul ed the Red Flyer. Time and again Norah cal ed Houdini's name, until her voice grew hoa.r.s.e.

Pa.s.sersby cut them strange looks, which they both ignored. There was a pygmy goat on the loose. Houdini needed to be in his pen by bedtime.

Norah's heart stopped when they arrived at the field and there was no sign of her goat. Vegetation grew wild; there were knee-high flowers, weeds, and an overturned palm tree.

Mike left the wagon on the sidewalk and tromped across the acre. He swung his flashlight through the darkening shadows as he covered every inch of land. Lines of concern soon scored his features. ”No sign of hooves. No pul ed up weeds,” he said grimly.

Panic hit, and her stomach squeezed.

Her knees went weak. She sat down in the wagon.

Absolute stil ness settled around them, thick and defeating. Mike came to stand beside her. He curved one hand over her shoulder, gently squeezed. ”Don't give up.

Let's keep looking. We'l find your goat.”

Norah nearly jumped out of her skin when Hermes bleated, shril as a whistle. Her little nose sniffed the air.

Soon her ears twitched and her tail wagged. She began tugging on her leash.

”Hermes has picked up Houdini's scent.” Norah was on her feet and moving fast.

Darkness. .h.i.t ful y, and the timer-set streetlights il uminated the sidewalk and street corners. Norah kept pace with Hermes; Mike fol owed with the wagon.

Another block and Hermes stopped at a public park. She pawed the ground. Then head-b.u.t.ted Norah's leg. Norah bent and scratched the little doe's ears. ”Where's Houdini?”

Again Hermes bleated.

A return bleat broke the night air. A frustrated, forlorn bleat that sent Norah running toward the sound.

Mike was on her heels. He held both flashlights and shed brightness across the darkened park. ”There's your goat.”

He pointed toward a playground where several old tires sat upright at varying depths off the gra.s.s. The tires provided jumping chal enges for children. Apparently Houdini had tried to play, too, only to get his horns stuck in several connecting metal links on a low chain that secured the tires to the ground.

His next bleat asked forgiveness. Houdini sounded sorry he'd run away. Sorrier stil he'd caused Norah so much worry.

Norah fel to her knees. Her hands shook as she tried to pry his smal horns free. Blood trickled from a gash in his head, a result of his struggle to free himself. He was in need of doctoring.

Anxious for his freedom, Houdini stomped his hooves and jerked wildly. His bleat was now bel igerent.

Norah struggled against Houdini. She needed him stil .

Mike hunkered down beside her. ”You hold the flashlights and I'l free him.”

Norah watched as his big hands turned gentle. Even after Houdini sidekicked him, Mike soothed with soft words and a stroke down the buck's back.

Hermes chose that moment to nuzzle noses with Houdini through the metal rings, which calmed the goat long enough for Mike to disengage his horns.

Freed, Houdini tossed his head and bleated his lungs out. The pygmy goat was as loud as any wolf baying at the moon. Norah opened her arms and Houdini came to her.

She hugged the goat so hard she nearly choked him.

Hermes wanted her fair share of affection. The doe b.u.t.ted her way between Norah and Houdini.

They were a family, Mike realized. As crazy at it seemed.

Norah loved her animals, even the escape artist who sent her into the night to find him.

Mike swept one flashlight over the playground equipment. ”Houdini came here to play?”

Norah nodded. ”Pygmy goats are as inquisitive and active as children. Houdini can jump through tires, walk the low teeter-totter, climb the wide steps onto the platform of the wooden fort.”

She pushed to her feet. ”It's time to go home. Ride, Houdini?” She patted the bed of the red wagon.

The goat hopped in.

Mike led the group, pul ing the Red Flyer.

Norah and Hermes trailed behind.

They returned to the petting zoo, tired and ready to cal it a night. Once in his pen, Houdini jumped from the wagon and trotted to the barn. Out of her harness, Hermes soon fol owed.

Norah exhaled, tired and relieved. She would doctor Houdini shortly. At the moment, she was indebted and grateful to this man for finding her goat. She wasn't certain she could have gone it alone.

She cleared her throat. ”I owe you-big.”

His smile was slow and very male. ”Big works for me. I'l col ect tomorrow.” He brushed a soft kiss against her brow, then departed, leaving Norah as high on antic.i.p.ation as she was on Mike Kraft.

Morning rose to overcast skies.

And the sounds of sawing, hammering, and dril ing.

Once dressed, Norah stepped from her resident office, cal ed to one of her staff. ”What's going on?” She raised her voice over the noise.

”Construction in the goat pen,” her employee shouted back. ”Mike Kraft and a dozen workers showed up at dawn.”

On a Sunday? With Houdini safe, she'd slept like the dead. She hadn't heard them arrive.

Al around her the air resounded with deep male voices and a whole lot of banging. Norah jogged down the path to her goat pen. She dodged a smal forklift, then circled a trailer from Mc-c.u.mber Lumber. She moved to the fence, and stopped short.