"Bella needs assistance. She can't deliver on her own," Patrick said, his voice edged with worry as he gently stroked the laboring goat.
Joanne didn't hesitate. She knelt beside Bella, brushing straw aside to make room for herself. "Oh, dear… Is the vet not available today?" she asked, though her hands were already moving, assessing the situation.
Patrick shook his head. "Out of town. It's up to us."
Joanne nodded, a familiar determination setting her jaw. "I've done this before. Let's get her through it."
The barn filled with the soft, distressed bleats of Bella and the earthy scent of hay and animals. Joanne worked with practiced ease, repositioning the unborn kids with a careful yet firm touch. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as she coaxed the little ones into the world, her forehead glistening with sweat.
When the first kid finally entered the world, followed swiftly by its sibling, Joanne exhaled deeply, her lips curving into a triumphant smile. A few minutes later, the third one entered the world too. "There we go, Bella," she murmured softly, wiping her hands on the towel. "You did great."
Patrick crouched beside her, gently checking the tiny goats' vitals. "They're healthy," he said with relief, holding one of the squirming babies for Joanne to see.
She stood slowly, stretching her stiff legs, feeling a deep sense of accomplishment. The mother goat licked her babies clean. The barn was warm with life and the glow of a job well done.
But her smile faltered, fading like a cloud eclipsing the sun, as a man in a crisp suit strode into the barn. His polished shoes looked absurdly out of place on the dirt floor, and he carried an iPad in one hand, his tie knotted with sterile precision. His very presence clashed with the raw vitality of the barn, the scent of hay, and the warmth of new life filling the air.
"Morning, Jason!" Patrick greeted, his tone far warmer than Joanne's mood.
Joanne crossed her arms, her patience already thin. "What do you want? I told you I'll be there tomorrow." Her voice was laced with impatience, her gaze cutting through the man like a blade.
Jason shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat. "Actually, Ms. Smith, we need your signature today for this…"
Before he could finish, Joanne brushed past him with a dismissive wave of her hand. Her body language screamed disinterest, as though she were looking at a job she couldn't be bothered to do.
Four years ago, the company had been on the brink of bankruptcy, her grandfather unable to manage it properly. But now Shamrock Logistics was the go-to name for farmers and ranchers in the entire state. With a fleet of over a hundred trucks and growing, it was one of the most successful logistics companies around.
Not only was the company thriving, but so was the farm. Joanne had worked hard to turn everything around. She was proud of the legacy she'd built, but that didn't mean she enjoyed being tethered to the corporate grind.
"Is it about payment?" she asked, her tone carrying the cool authority of a boss who'd dealt with far too many trivial interruptions.
"No, it's—"
"Then, Jason, it's not important. If I said I'll be at the office tomorrow, I'll be there tomorrow," she said with another dismissive wave, already walking away.
Jason hesitated, his polished shoes shifting against the barn floor as he tried to muster the courage to persist. "But, Ms. Smith, it's just a—"
"The HR forgot to bring it up last week, didn't they?" Joanne interrupted, raising a brow. "And now they've sent you here to clean up their mess?"
Jason swallowed hard, his silence betraying the truth. Joanne was sharp, and she didn't tolerate incompetence. She preferred spending her days at the farm, away from the suffocating bureaucracy of the corporate world. Her employees at the office rarely met her expectations, and she was seriously considering hiring a CEO to manage the company so she could focus on being the chairman—a title that would let her keep her distance.
As she deliberated, a sudden bark echoed through the barn. Jason jumped back, his heart leaping into his throat.
"Fluffy! There you are…" Joanne's tone softened instantly, her face breaking into a genuine smile as her full-grown Rottweiler bounded toward her. The dog's powerful muscles rippled under its glossy coat, and Jason couldn't help but take several steps back.
Fluffy circled Joanne excitedly, his wagging tail and exuberant energy a stark contrast to Jason's wide-eyed fear. To Jason, the dog looked like a menacing guard, baring sharp teeth that seemed to glint in the sunlight streaming into the barn.
Joanne crouched to pet the massive dog, her hands burying into its fur as she cooed affectionately. Meanwhile, Jason clutched his iPad tighter, wishing he were anywhere but here. He'd never liked dogs; he was firmly a cat person. But as the office junior, he was stuck with tasks no one else wanted to do—like braving Joanne's farm.
"Ms. Smith, this really—" Jason began again, his voice cracking slightly.
"Tomorrow," Joanne said firmly, not even sparing him a glance.
Jason sighed, resigning himself to his fate. He didn't love the job—or the terrorizing bark of Joanne's dog—but the salary was unmatched, and no other company in the county offered such a cushy paycheck. The cost of living was low, and the pay was well above average. If only Joanne Smith wasn't such a force to be reckoned with.
Patrick stood beside Bella and the newborn goats, shaking his head with a knowing smile. "Oh, sweet child," he murmured, watching her pet Fluffy.
Sweet, perhaps, but not to her corporate employees. Patrick had seen Joanne grow from a spirited child into a formidable woman. She seemed to take delight in keeping her logistics team on their toes, while her farmhands enjoyed her warmth.
It occurred to Patrick that the logistics company hadn't been her dream; it was her father's. She had taken over out of loyalty, not passion. If it weren't for her father's legacy, he suspected Joanne would have walked away long ago.
"Excuse me... Joe... Is Joe McDonald here?"
The deep voice echoed around the barn. Jason took the opportunity to slip away, eager to escape Joanne's piercing gaze and her enthusiastic Rottweiler, Fluffy.
Patrick stepped forward, wiping his hands on his jeans as he assessed the newcomer. Joanne tightened her grip on Fluffy's collar, her sharp eyes locked onto the figure. He was scruffy and unkempt, dressed in faded jeans, dirty boots, and a damp shirt. Days' worth of stubble covered his face, and dark hair stuck to his forehead.
Fluffy let out a low growl that made Patrick glance back nervously.
"Who's asking?" Patrick asked cautiously.