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Though if he’d been another man she might’ve found his close scrutiny a bit creepy.
    “Let’s head to the cabin,” she said. “I can patch you up there.”
    “I’ll be fine. You, on the other hand, are a mess.”
    “Um, yes.” She couldn’t help but smile as she glanced down at herself. “Yes, I am.” It could’ve been worse had she already changed to her good clothes. She looked over her shoulder toward the barn. God bless them, the kids had already returned to their chores. Although they’d be leaving soon. “Actually, I need to make sure Levi is tending to Pinocchio before I do anything else. We can get you a cloth to put on that cut, if you think it can wait.”
    “Yeah, this is nothing.” He waved dismissively. “I’m assuming Pinocchio is the unlucky goat.”
    She nodded, leading him across the mix of packed dirt and gravel that became a muddy pit during rainy season. “He’s a curious guy, and he never seems deterred by the messes he gets himself into.”
    “Goats can be difficult.”
    “Every animal in Safe Haven can be difficult. I think they sign some kind of agreement before coming here.” She gestured vaguely. “Prelude to the tour. This is where we house the goats and chickens. We have twenty-two goats as of yesterday. We’re always on the hunt for new families for them, but only for milking and breeding, not for meat.”
    On a shelf by the door, she picked up and folded a clean rag from a pile and handed it to him. He pressed it against the cut, hissing a little.
    Annie figured he would be fine for the next ten minutes or so. He was a rancher, so he understood that her first responsibility was to the stock. “The chickens, they kind of came with the place. Sometimes I’ll wake up to new hens, more so roosters that people have dropped off.”
    She watched Tucker scope out the barn. Feed was safely stored behind big fences. The coops were spacious and well maintained. The goats had new water tanks from a central well, which had been the most expensive improvement since she’d taken over. No more lugging pails. Cleaning troughs? That job would never disappear. But then, that was something the high school kids helped with.
    “That must be Levi,” Tucker said, looking toward a bale of hay where the older man sat petting Pinocchio gently as his wife, Kathy, worked on cleaning the goat’s wounds.
    As Annie slowed her step, Tucker did, as well. No need to spook Pinocchio any further. Not that the other animals paid that any mind. Chickens wandered and pecked, making a racket that had become white noise to Annie. Some of the other goats were nursing or filching scratch from the hens. There were stalls for resting and birthing, and stacked bales of hay for the baby goats—kids—to find their legs.
    “It’s a great setup,” Tucker said.
    “We’re always at capacity.” Looking on, she sighed. “That’s what’s hard. So many in need, and we try not to overcrowd the barn. I’ve tapped out the locals for the most part. Though we’re lucky to have an animal rescue pilot living nearby. Jesse has taken special cases to better-equipped shelters.”
    “How’s Pinocchio doing?” Tucker asked, speaking to Levi and his wife.
    “Banged up some,” Kathy said, “but he’ll be fine once he gets his calm back. He’s a devil, this one. If he wasn’t so darn adorable we’d have pitched him out ages ago.”
    Both Levi and Annie laughed. “The day you pitch out an animal is the day we close up shop,” Annie said. “You’re worse than all of us.”
    Kathy’s kids had left the nest. She and Levi, a former teacher, had been married for thirty-two years. She’d grown up in cattle country, and her wiry body was fit and strong. At sixty, she could still lift a fifty-pound bag of feed without breaking a sweat.
    Her husband was just as sturdy. He didn’t let his arthritis stop him. “What the dickens were you thinking, jumping into that mess?” he asked, frowning up at Tucker.
    The slow