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seconds, she finally pushed him down. “Okay,” she told him. “That’s enough. Go on. Go do your job. Guard.”
    Kinka recognized the gesture and the command immediately. He gave Rowan an affirmative bark then yipped at the others to get them to fall in line. Jory and Kono stopped dancing at Rowan’s feet and fled after their leader, announcing their presence to the sheep still housed in the barn and other wildlife beyond the tree line as they headed off to patrol the pasture’s perimeter.
    Rowan threw open the large barn door and saw the flock huddled together in groups, standing in front of the large ceramic heaters Dad had purchased last winter after they’d lost one third of their head to below-freezing temperatures. She flipped the switch on the electrical box to shut them down. As the roar of the fans diminished, the protests of the sheep could be heard. The sun was out, though, and the day was heating up, so they’d be fine outside for the afternoon.
    She slid open the side door that led to the pasture but struggled with the secondary fence. The top wire had collapsed, and she had to peel the gloves off her hands so she could untangle Dad’s makeshift attempt at fence repair. When she finally detached the barbed wire from the heavy steel gate, she heaved it open all the way to allow the flock to get through. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted “Kinka!”
    The dog left the other two to finish the patrol and bounded back toward the barn at full speed, large webbed paws never slipping in the slush and snow that covered the ground. He charged through the gate, passing up Rowan, intent now on the day’s work of herding and guarding. He snapped at the ewes, circling around them, pushing them away from their beloved heaters and out into the world, where he, Jory, and Kono would keep them safe while they grazed.
    When he’d gotten all two hundred plus head outside, Rowan secured the gate as best she could with the broken wire, wrapping it around the post several times then declaring it good enough for now. She dumped hay bales over the side, into the pasture proper, struggling to lift each one in turn. Then she headed back to the front of the property, shut off the Toyota’s engine, and carried Willow into the house.
    In one of the small guest bedrooms upstairs, she curled up beside her daughter and closed her eyes until Emma walked in the door hours later. She’d brought fast food, and they all tucked into it, seated around the kitchen table, which probably didn’t see much use these days. With Mom gone while both girls were in their teens (breast cancer), the whole family had migrated to eating in front of the television, which was far easier than sitting around all looking at each other, all trying not to look at Mom’s empty chair.
    Rowan suspected that their father had continued the habit after they’d graduated.
    Both sisters spoke as delicately as they could about the hospital stay and the home care Dad would need when he was discharged.
    Little ears perked up anyway. “Is Pop-Pop okay?” Willow asked.
    Rowan took a deep breath. “He’s sick, honey. He had a problem with his heart. He’s going to come home soon, though. And you’ll see him then.”
    Willow wrinkled her nose. “Will he take me fishing?”
    Rowan pressed her lips together and shook her head. “No, honey. He won’t be able to do that for a while.”
    Willow’s face darkened. “Will you take me fishing?”
    Rowan sighed. “I can’t, honey. Pop-Pop’s going to need me here. At least for a while.”
    “How long can you stay?” asked Emma.
    Rowan rubbed her temples with her fingers. “I don’t know. A week? Maybe two? Not long enough. Not nearly long enough.”
    Emma shot a look at Willow and frowned. “I can’t always be here,” she told Rowan. “I’ve got my job in town. I can cut down on my hours but not by a lot. I just got hired. You’ll have to take her to the hospital with you, on days I can’t be