Chapter 6 Magnolia
“You can’t hear that?” I holler, narrowing my eyes at the snow-covered field. A soft whining echoes out again, but I can’t place it yet. The snowfall is too thick and the pasture is a mixture of open area and trees.
I take a step forward in the direction I think the sound is coming from when my feet become unsteady and the layered snow gives way to a patch of muddy ice, but before I land on my backside, a firm hand wraps around my elbow.
I glance back to find Bode frowning at me, but his eyes are searching mine with a hint of worry and very much like I’m crazy.
“What are you running after?” he asks, his touch lingering even after he makes sure I’m on steady ground.
“I heard a cow.”
He huffs. “We moved the herd closer to the ranch two days ago.”
“Don’t tell me what I heard.” I look back at him and scowl. I know I heard something, and whatever it is, it’s in pain.
“There ain’t anything out here other than wolves and bears,” Bode insists.
“That’s even worse!” I gape at him before marching further into the field, paying more attention to where I’m stepping and listening for any more sounds.
“Maggie!” he barks, “Even if there is something out here, it ain’t worth saving!”
“You tell that to Dot! Now quit yelling at me and listen!” I hear his muttered curses and the sound of his boots stomping towards me. I see something move out of the corner of my eye that isn’t the tall, grumpy cowboy I’m stuck with, and I take another step towards it.
“Dot understands how nature works.” Bode shoves his hands into his pockets as he follows behind me.
Ignoring his comment, the whining turns into a tight high-pitched moo, and I catch a glimpse of tufted rust-colored hair shifting under one of the tall pine trees.
Its little head lifts, mooing at us again.
It’s the only convincing I need before I’m kneeling next to the small calf.
She’s far too small even to have a chance of surviving out here on her own.
“I told you I heard something.” I frown back at Bode. He squats down next to me and shakes his head.
“Maggie, we can’t help her.” He has the nerve to reach out and try to pet the calf. “She won’t make it a week even if we take her back to the barn.”
“Like heck we can’t.” I stubbornly move his hand out of the way and check her legs for any signs of broken bones. She doesn’t yelp or try to kick me out of fear, and I know enough to know she isn’t seriously injured. Just scared and without her mama.
My throat tightens at the thought, and the sadness that attempts to bloom in my chest is quickly replaced by determination to prove him wrong. That I can save something. Even if it isn’t who I want.
“Move,” I mumble, not caring that I almost knock him into the snow.
“Maggie-” he warns, and I ignore him to wrap my arms around the baby’s legs and try to lift her.
She’s heavier than I imagined, and I struggle in the thick, wet snow to get my footing.
I shuffle the calf in my arms with a grunt, her long legs awkwardly bundled in my grasp as I use every ounce of strength I have.
“Bode…” I grumble back, straining under the weight.
“Magnolia,” Bode warns once more, but steps back when I stand up with her fully in my arms. “You can’t carry that calf all the way back to the ranch.”
“Watch me.” I flash him a smirk and march back towards our horses.
“I’m tellin’ you right now, Maggie, you take one more step with that calf, I’m leaving both of you here to freeze!" he barks from behind me.
I glance back over my shoulder at him and narrow my eyes. “I’m sure Ford would love to hear that.”
He stops in his tracks at the dig and huffs before marching past me. “I ain’t afraid of Ford," he says through his teeth. “Figure out how to get that baby back on your own if you wanna be stubborn.”
“Says the king of stubbornness.” I laugh, snuggling my face into the calf's wet cheek. “We’re gonna prove him wrong, aren’t we, little one?
” I whisper to her and earn a moo in response.
I follow behind him, not surprised that Gus is still tied to the tree where we were working when I make it up the small hill.
Bode is nowhere to be found, and Kelpie is missing.
“That jerk.” I huff and stop to figure out how in the world I’m going to get this baby cow on the back of Gus.
I stare at the horse and look back down at the trembling calf.
“Can you two work together? We have a cowboy to prove wrong,” I whisper to her and press my cold forehead to hers as I roll my shoulders back.
“Alright Gus, now you listen, and you listen well. We gotta get this baby back to the ranch, and we gotta do it on our own,” I say, shifting the calf in my arms. “I know you hate Bode Walker more than anyone on the ranch, so if there was ever a time to stick it to that no-good, mean, hick-talking cowboy, it’s now. ”
Gus stomps his foot in the snow and just like that, I know he understands the mission. I smile brightly and move a little closer. “We’re gonna be real good friends boy, and if you help me today, I’ll sneak you some of those apple muffins from the house.”
With a shake of his muzzle, a loud, hot snort leaves his nose and billows in the cold air.
With one final push of strength, I haul the calf onto the horse's back and watch as she struggles to get comfy. “Settle down, it’s okay.” I quickly loosen the tie on the tree, whispering to her as I fight to get up on the saddle behind her.
I rub my hand between her ears and keep talking to her as I slowly get Gus moving through the snow, following the trail that Bode and Kelpie left carefully.
It would take a while to get back, but every time Gus finds a good speed, the calf starts to wriggle, and I can’t keep control of both.
I pull Gus to a slow canter and keep my other hand on the calf, holding her close to my body as we sway back and forth through the snow.
Staring down at the calf, I can hear the words of every single person who told me I couldn’t do it on my own.
You aren’t strong enough, Maggie, aren’t smart enough, aren’t quick enough.
They all underestimated my willpower, and worst of all, my love.
I could do it, I am doing it, every day I get out of bed, and I do all the things they told me I wasn’t brave enough or strong enough to do. I’m here, doing them.
“You’re gonna survive this,” I say to the calf as we climb the last hill back to the ranch. “We’re gonna survive this winter together,” I tell her, saying it with my chest to remind myself of the plan. “Bode Walker be damned,” I grumble.