One Hundred Humbugs (Aspen Cove #25)

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

Something warm and decidedly goat-like was nudging Becket’s face. He groaned, trying to burrow deeper into his sleeping bag, but the insistent prodding continued. The crisp morning air nipped at his nose, reminding him that he was indeed sleeping outside in a field.

“Alright, alright, I’m up,” he mumbled, cracking open one eye to find himself nose-to-nose with Houdini, his craftiest billy goat. The goat’s breath smelled of fresh greenery and trouble. “Wait a minute...”

Becket bolted upright, his sleeping bag sliding off his chest. Houdini shouldn’t be here. Houdini should be in the makeshift pen with the rest of the herd, safely contained on the Wilson property.

“Aw, hell,” he muttered, scrambling to his feet. He’d spent the night sleeping under the stars, wanting to keep an eye on his goats in their new temporary home. Fat lot of good that did.

As he stood up, stretching out the kinks from a night on the hard ground, Becket’s jaw dropped. The ramshackle enclosure he’d cobbled together yesterday evening from portable fencing and spare bits of rope was in shambles. Daisy, his pregnant nanny goat, lay in the center, the only one who hadn’t joined the great escape. She fixed Becket with a look that seemed to say, “Don’t blame me. I told them it was a bad idea.”

“Well, at least one of you has some sense,” Becket sighed, giving Daisy an appreciative pat. “Though I bet you would’ve gone too if you could have figured out a way to fit through the opening or jump the gate.”

Daisy just chewed lazily, her expression now saying, “Someone’s gotta be the responsible one.”

Panic rising, Becket spun around, searching for his escaped herd. It didn’t take long to spot them. They were scattered across the Wilson property, happily chewing on anything and everything.

The yard, which yesterday had been a wild tangle of overgrown weeds and bushes, now looked like it had been attacked by an overzealous landscaping crew armed with weed whackers and a vendetta against all things green.

“How in the world...?” Becket muttered, surveying the change. He’d thought the overgrown yard would keep his herd busy for days. Clearly, he’d underestimated their appetites. Or their ability to work as a team when properly motivated by the prospect of an all-you-can-eat buffet.

As he walked the perimeter, rounding up his now satisfied and plumper goats, Becket looked closer at the mangled remains of his makeshift fence. He could easily picture how it went down: Houdini, living up to his name, finding a weak spot and leading the great goat jailbreak.

“You sure earned your name this time, didn’t you?” Becket sighed, eyeing the goat in question, who was now attempting to eat what looked like an ancient lawn gnome.

The goats hadn’t caused a disaster yet, but if Becket didn’t get them back in the trailer soon, they’d be munching on the neighbor’s rose bushes. He rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the yard for any escapees. With a deep breath, he stepped forward and put on his best “I’m in charge” voice.

“Alright, you four-legged freeloaders, party’s over. Back to the trailer.”

They just stared at him, chewing like he was the ridiculous one.

With a resigned sigh, he lunged toward the nearest goat, hoping to steer it in the right direction. That hope lasted about three seconds before the others scattered, darting around him as if playing a game. He managed to get one halfway to the trailer, only to see two more slip past him and bolt for the edge of the yard.

“Not the rosebushes!” he groaned, running after them. But it was too late.

A stubborn billy had already sunk his teeth into the shrub, yanking with enough enthusiasm to send petals flying. Becket charged over, grabbing the remains of the bush in a last-ditch tug-of-war with the goat, dirt spraying everywhere.

“Come on, you walking garbage disposals,” Becket pleaded, out of breath and covered in dirt and leaves. “Work with me here!”

Just as he managed to corral half the herd into the trailer, a car approached, making Becket freeze. He turned to see a familiar Cadillac pulling up, and his heart sank. It was Marge Gunderson.

Marge stepped out of her car, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. Becket stood there, dirt smeared on his shirt, while a goat tugged at his sleeve, unbothered by the chaos it had caused. The yard, now trimmed of its wild overgrowth, looked mostly clean—except for the few prized rosebushes that had become a snack.

“Mr. Shepherd,” Marge said, taking in the scene, “I didn’t expect your goats to take their job this seriously.”

Becket wiped a hand across his brow, trying to maintain some composure. It was tough to pull off cool when a goat was gnawing on your shirt, but he gave it his best shot. “Would you believe me if I said they’re just really dedicated to their work?”

Marge held back a laugh. “Passionate, huh? I would’ve thought they’d know better than to touch the roses.”

Becket winced, his eyes trailing to the once-beautiful rosebushes, now mostly chewed stubs. “Yeah, that was the plan. I was kind of hoping they’d stick to the weeds. Guess they’ve developed a taste for the finer things in life.”

Marge shook her head with a sigh. “Well, despite their questionable taste in landscaping, I’ve got to hand it to you—this yard looks better than it has in years. Between the code enforcement office and the neighbors, I’ve been hearing complaints about this place for months. And here you are, getting it under control in a day.”

Becket rubbed the back of his neck, relieved that Marge seemed more amused than angry. “I’ll talk to them about being more discerning next time.”

Marge gave him a wry look and glanced around the yard one more time.

“Speaking of next time, I have another property that could use some work. Overgrown doesn’t even begin to describe it. I was just there this morning—belongs to a Ruby Whitaker. She’s looking to clean it up before I can list it for her. I told her you could help.”

Becket’s eyebrows shot up. “You gave her my name? ”

“I did,” Marge confirmed. “I didn’t mention your ... unique approach, but she’s desperate enough that I’m sure she’ll appreciate the results. Expect her to call you soon.”

Becket nodded, processing the information. “Thanks for the recommendation, Marge.”

She waved him off as she turned to head back to her car. “Just try to go a little easier on her flowers, okay? It’ll be hard to sell a house with no landscaping left.”

As Marge drove away, Becket looked down at the herd of goats, who were all staring up at him like they’d done nothing wrong.

“Alright, you hooligans,” he muttered, “seems like we’ve got another job on the horizon. Try not to eat the entire property in one night this time.”

Houdini bleated at him, as if in protest, before tugging on his shoelace.

Becket let out a sigh and managed to get the last of the goats loaded into the trailer. Just as he was about to climb into his truck, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered it, half expecting Marge to have second thoughts.

“Becket Shepherd,” he said, trying to sound like a guy who hadn’t just spent the last hour chasing goats.

“Hi, this is Ruby Whitaker. Marge Gunderson gave me your number. She said you could help with my uncle’s yard?”

Becket grinned. Well, that was quick.

“Sure thing, Ms. Whitaker. I’ve got a crew ready to go. When would you like me to come by?”

Ruby gave him the address and explained the state of the yard. Becket could already imagine what he was in for. Overgrown weeds, tall grass—it sounded like the perfect job for his goats.

“Tell you what,” he said when she finished, “I’ll swing by this afternoon to take a look. No charge for the assessment.”

After ending the call, Becket glanced back at his trailer, where the goats were peacefully munching on whatever they could find. “Alright, you gluttons, looks like we’ve got a chance at another gig?”

Daisy let out a bleat, and Becket chose to take it as agreement.

As he climbed into his truck and started driving toward Ruby’s place, a sense of excitement surged through him. A new job and maybe a new opportunity. He just hoped Ruby wouldn’t be too surprised when she saw the crew he was bringing along.

“Well, gang,” he muttered, glancing in the rearview mirror at the trailer, “here’s hoping Ms. Whitaker’s a fan of goats.”