Chapter FifteenIt had rained during the night and the area by the barn was muddy. Bourbon looked as though she were wearing brown socks. After the morning milking, the cows lumbered into the west field where it was shady during the first part of the day, since it was already very warm.
“Bourbon!” called Achille, and the dog turned and looked at him questioningly. Usually she followed the cows to the field to make sure they got there in an orderly group. “We’re going to check the fencing,” he said, and he thought Bourbon nodded before trotting back to his side.
When they passed a small copse Achille cut a branch to walk with. Not to lean on, because he was strong and had no need for that, but only a stick to poke in the mud or swat through the air if he felt like it. The fencing on the fa
