Mack had set three chairs up on the south side of the barn so his father would be sitting in the warm sunshine that morning. Orville was wearing his rubber boots and his old work coat, and he was having a good day. Could it be, Mack wondered, because he felt at home in the presence of goats and was dressed in old familiar clothes?

“What makes you like goats?” Orville had asked Braden first thing when he’d sat down.

“They’re cute and they’re little,” Braden answered honestly. “Cows and horses kind of scare me. My mama is short and so is my dad, so I’m probably not ever going to grow up to be tall like Mack. I can hold my own with a goat. I might not ever be able to do that with a big animal.”

“Where’d you get that black eye?” Orville asked.

“Well, sir, it was like this . . .” Braden started telling the story of the day before the fight when the two bullies had taken his lunch money, and ended with, “I guess I had just had enough of them.”

Orville chuckled. “Boy, I don’t reckon you’d have a bit of trouble with a big animal.”

“Thank you. Why’d you raise goats?” Braden asked.

“I raised premium goats, and I sold them to kids from all over Oklahoma and Texas for their livestock shows. What I didn’t sell went to the market once a year and paid for two boys’ college educations. See that one out there with the star on her face? She’ll be a prime show goat next spring. And that young ram over there that you call War Lord could take the prize home when you show him. My son . . .” It was evident he was trying hard to remember a name. “My son Adam—no, that’s not right. Aaron is the one that likes to go with me to take care of the goats.”

Mack nodded in agreement. “That’s right, Dad. Now tell me about the rest of my new herd. Which ones should I sell as premium stock, and which ones will bring less money?”

“Aaron?” Braden asked.

“Aaron Matthew Cooper is my birth name,” Mack explained. “They started out calling me Matt, but my brother could only say Mack, and that’s what I’ve answered to ever since.”

“Adam is at college. He’s coming home this weekend,” Orville said. “But he doesn’t like to do anything that gets his hands dirty. See that black-and-white one over there, Mack? The one that looks like a Holstein cow—that’s your best one of the lot. I hear you’re steppin’ out with that Miller girl. She comes from good people. You should marry her.”