Miranda breathed in the cold-muted smell of manure that always hung around the part of the field where the herd congregated twice a day. Not everyone liked the scent, but it was part of her childhood, so she found it soothing.

As they tromped along side by side, the mooing grew in volume. The herd knew that food and the easing of their udders were nigh.

Dennis veered off the path, and Miranda stopped. “What’s up?”

He stutter-stepped and headed toward the barn again. “Nothing. Just tripped.”

Two more steps and he staggered before going down on his knees.

“Dennis! What’s wrong?” She knelt beside him and peered into his face.

“Hell,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “I’ve caught the damn flu.”

She pulled off her glove to put her hand on his forehead, nearly snatching it away again. His skin was scorching hot. “Back to the house with you,” she said, standing to help him up. She wrapped his arm over her shoulders and supported him back to the door.

Patty was drying dishes and spun around in surprise when Miranda and Dennis lurched into the kitchen. “What’s wrong?” she asked, tossing the towel on the counter as she jogged over to them.

“He’s burning up with fever,” Miranda said. “Help me get him upstairs.”

“Stubborn man. I knew he wasn’t feeling right,” Patty muttered, coming around to the other side of her husband.

“I can walk,” Dennis said, slurring his words.

Worry scraped at Miranda’s heart. Her brother was leaning heavily on her, which meant he was having a hard time staying upright.

“You’re going to have to walk,” Patty said, “because we sure as heck can’t carry you, sweetie.”

Somehow they got him up the steep, narrow staircase and into his bedroom. Miranda helped Patty take off her brother’s outer garments and then left her sister-in-law to handle the rest. She didn’t think Dennis would appreciate having his sister see him in his skivvies, no matter how sick he was.

She stood outside the bedroom door, pitching her voice low to ask what Patty needed her to do.

The other woman came to the door. “I hate to ask you this, but can you milk the cows by yourself? That’s what Dennis would want done.”

“Of course.” Miranda injected as much confidence as she could into her voice, even though the prospect made her blanch inside. She didn’t have the strength or stamina her brother did, and she was out of practice.

“Thank God you’re here.” Patty gave her a quick, hard hug and turned back to the bedroom.

Miranda squared her shoulders and clumped down the stairs as quietly as she could in the rubber boots. The warm glow of the knowledge that she was helping her family dispelled some of her fatigue. Maybe she wouldn’t be as fast as Dennis, but she could get the job done.

Two hours later, she shooed the last cow out of the barn and collapsed onto an overturned bucket. Dennis had updated much of the equipment to make milking less labor-intensive, but she still had to clean the teat cups. After that, she would call Orin to tell him she needed the week off. She couldn’t leave Patty to cope with a sick husband and child and a herd of dairy cows while the hired hand was out of commission.

Miranda grimaced. Orin would want his pound of flesh for making him rework the schedule. She pushed up from the bucket and trudged back into the barn.

Now she remembered why she’d wanted to flee to the big city.

“I’m really sorry, Orin, but I need to take the week off,” Miranda said. She gripped the phone tighter and waited for her boss to blow up. Instead, there was a long, ominous silence. “I know it’s asking a lot, so I’ll take night shifts or weekend shifts as a thank-you for anyone you have to call in.”

She plucked at the twine of the hay bale where she sat in the weak warmth of the late-morning sunshine.

“I have reached my breaking point,” Orin said. “I’m going to have to let you go.”

Miranda couldn’t stifle her gasp. She’d expected him to berate her up, down, and sideways, not fire her.

Her boss continued, and she swore she could hear a note of triumph in his voice. “Your performance has not been up to the standards we require at the Pinnacle. I will give you one week’s base pay as severance, which I’m sure you will agree is quite generous.”

Technically speaking, he didn’t have to give her any severance pay at all, so by some measures it was generous. However, an assistant concierge’s base pay was peanuts, since the bulk of her income came from commissions and tips.

“I will also provide a letter of reference, stating your dates of employment here at the Pinnacle. Without mention that you were fired.”

That was Orin’s way of saying he would not recommend her for another position. Not that she’d expected it.

Somehow she managed to grind out, “I appreciate that.”

“And well you should. I could cite you for dereliction of duty.”

Hot anger ballooned inside her. “Dereliction of duty” would be going back to New York to indulge the whims of hyperwealthy people while her brother and his family struggled alone. She clenched her jaw to prevent herself from asking Orin what the hell he knew about duty.

“I will have Sofia box up your belongings. You can pick them up when you get back from the farm. Make sure to wash the manure off your shoes before you walk into the lobby.”

Her vision went red with fury. “Good-bye, Orin,” she said and hit the “Disconnect” button. That would piss him off more than any of the names she wanted to call him.