“Nuh-uh. Let’s not chance it,” Matthew warned, pulling her hand away.

“I’ll take her,” Greer spoke up right away.

Jimbo pressed the keys on a machine.

“How do want the meat parceled out?”

“Parceled out?” Alanna whispered, horrorstricken.

“Give me out forty percent in a variety of roasts, ground me up around thirty percent—the youngins like their hamburgers — and the rest in steaks.”

Alanna reached into her pocket for another piece of ginger candy.

“I’ll get as many out of her as I can.” Jimbo let the machine go to hang back as his side and nodded at another stall, one over. “Now, this one over here is a little smaller, but she’s grass fed.”

Alanna didn’t move away with the men, feeling the cow staring at her pleadingly.

“What’s wrong?” Matthew asked, coming back.

“They’re going to kill her,” she said starkly.

“Yeah, that’s why we came here—to replace the meat we ate.”

Her hand went to her stomach. “She looks so sweet.”

Matthew looked at the cow. She could tell he wasn’t as taken with her as she was.

“Is Alanna okay?” Silas asked, coming back.

“Alanna doesn’t want the cow killed.” Matthew gave Silas a helpless glance.

“Too bad. She’s gonna be on my dinner table,” Greer said unsympathetically. “Going to feed us for at least six months.”

“You’ll make it last three months,” Matthew retorted.

“Don’t matter. It’ll be three months of pure pleasure I don’t have to pay for.” Greer grinned.

Alanna lost it. She sprung forward, her feet leaving the ground, her eyes on his throat.

Matthew caught her mid-leap with an arm around her waist.

“Matthew, why don’t you take Alanna to the store?” Silas placed himself between her and Greer. “Stock us up on what we need. Ginny’s wanting two bushels of apples.”

“She ain’t supposed to be out of my sight,” Greer snapped, starting after them as Matthew tried to usher her away.

“Then you can go with them. I’ll pick the hog out for you,” Silas said benignly.

Greer stopped in his tracks. “You going to buy me some pork?”

“Depends.” Silas arched a brow at him.

“You kids go on.” Greer turned back to Silas, pulling his jeans up higher. “We have some business to take care of.”

Alanna barely made it out of earshot. “I can’t stand that man. He’s going to kill that sweet cow.”

“If Greer hadn’t picked the cow, someone else would have. Probably Silas. Greer wouldn’t kill it himself … Well, he would if …”

“I don’t mean Greer. I mean Jimbo,” she hissed out his name.

“Yeah … he’s the one who kills them. But to be fair, that’s what he does for a living … and you didn’t have a problem eating that ribeye on your plate the other night.”