Published: December 1, 1999
by Rachel Lee
Excerpt pp 8-12
Esther Jackson sat on her front porch and watched with bemused irritation as a sheep devoured her flower garden. As far as the eye could see there was nothing but grass, a few huge old cottonwood trees, the distant mountains....and the fence that should have kept that sheep on the other side, off her property.
The August wind blew steadily. Hot and dry, it seemed to be turning her skin to parchment. She ought to go in and put some cream on her face, but she couldn't make herself get out of the rocking chair. The sheep, trespasser thought it was, was too amusing. Too irritating. Too...out of place. It seemed to have a passion for marigolds and geraniums. Esther wondered in a detached sort of fashion whether it was going to get an upset stomach.
She supposed she ought to do something -- shoo it back beyond the fence perhaps, excwept that she couldn't see where it had managed to break through. Except that she'd never dealt with any animal than dogs and cats in her life and she wasn't quite sure what to do. Did sheep bite?