Chapter 18
I could pick Colten out among the sheep the moment I pulled the Tundra up the drive. His red flannel shirt stood bright against the dull grass in the field. He straightened as I parked and he raised his arm over his head in a wave.
I let myself inside the pen and walked toward Colten and the group of sheep at his feet. Rex was there too, laying down with the flock. The large sheepdog spotted me and lumbered to its feet. It ran to me; the sudden motion made the sheep scatter.
Rex made it first—throwing his paws onto my chest—but Colten wasn’t far behind.
I patted Rex’s head cautiously. Though I’d seen him several times now and he was friendly, I didn’t care for the smell of dog hair.
Colten reached us and pulled the dog off me and replaced the dog’s paws with his own hands.
