Chapter Four
I lightly jogged over to the pasture I’d left the goats in, and, thankfully, they were still peacefully grazing on the softened grass or sleeping in small huddles.
I needed to turn the other animals into the barn soon, but that was a job I’d need the farmhands to help with.
Judging by the fact that the sun was still hardly rising over the treeline, it was still pretty early, and if Alden needed to send out a few men to escort them over, then they’d probably arrive a little later than normal.
That meant I had to start the brand-new task of milking a type of animal I’d never had to before.
I grabbed the stool and bucket I used for the cows, which I quickly sanitized with some of the products kept in the barn. Then I headed to the pasture field with a hope and a dream.
There were twelve goats in total, but only eight had udders by my count. That meant there was a heavier proportion of female goats, and if they were able to produce milk, that meant they were pregnant.
Even without the shard by my side, the goats didn’t seem to mind my presence. Maybe it was because I’d helped rescue them, so they felt like they could trust me, or maybe seeing the shard with me made them bond to me in some kind of weird way.
Either way, I wasn’t complaining when I set my stool down next to one of the onyx creatures with visible udders without it bucking away.
I placed the bucket underneath the udders partially hidden by the thick black coat that definitely needed washing at some point. The goat continued to graze happily without a care in the world, so I took that as my sign to jump in headfirst.
I could already feel the heat radiating through its fur, but when I grabbed hold of one of the udders, it was like I’d dunked my hand into a vat of warm goo.
The goat let out a sharp bleat and threw its head back, so I quickly pulled my hand back in surrender.
“Easy, I’m not hurting you,” I soothed with a pat to its thrashing head. “If you’re not careful, you’re gonna poke my eye out with those horns.”
The goat made another shrill noise before it went back to munching like nothing had happened.
“Let’s try this one more time,” I said as I reached underneath the creature again and gently grabbed one of its teats.
Lo and behold, it shrieked again, but this time, I pressed my other hand down on its neck to keep it still.
“Look, I get you’ve probably never had this done to you before, but that makes two of us,” I said. “Just relax. I wouldn’t hurt you after saving your ass.”
Rather than fight against my firm grip on its neck, the goat bent its head back to the ground and started grazing again.
“Okay.” I let out a slow breath in preparation. “Here goes nothing.”
I used my thumb and forefinger to pinch the top of her teat, which effectively trapped the milk inside. Then I used the rest of my fingers to squeeze, rather than pulling like I would on a cow’s teat.
I heard a faint splash of milk hitting the bucket as I rolled, but then the goat bucked and darted away from me.
“God damn it,” I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. “You’re not supposed to do that, you know?”
I’d remembered my father telling me about how goats were a lot more… difficult when it came to milking. That’s one of the only reasons he’d never had any on the farm. That and the demand for goat’s milk was already taken up by some of the larger farms in California.
I watched as the goat I’d tried to milk fled across the pasture, so I turned my sight to the next closest victim.
“Hey, shard?” I called out as I grabbed my bucket and stool and marched over to the grazing creature. “I’m gonna need your help with this one.”
I heard a whooshing sound coming from behind me, and when I settled at the side of the unsuspecting creature, the shard floated to my right.
“Do you think you can bring up some vines to keep this little lady in place?” I asked. “Otherwise, they’re all going to run for the hills once I touch them.”
Milking stands were commonplace for difficult and more jittery animals. I’d had to use similar contraptions with some of the cows while they got used to the feeling of being hand-milked, but that had been years ago, and I didn’t have the milking stations anymore.
Getting them commissioned by a carpenter was pretty low down on my list of things to do, so using the shard’s power seemed like the easiest route right now.
The shard hummed, and two thick roots sprouted out of the ground beside the goat’s head. They wrapped beneath its chin and just behind where its horns ended before weaving themselves together in a light grip.
The goat was so busy feasting on the softened grass that it didn’t even realize it had been locked in place.
Now that its escape route was gone, I slowly wrapped my hand around its teat to get it used to the grip.
It bleated, but when it tried to jerk its head back, it remained in place.
“Keep grazing, bud,” I said as I patted its back. “You’ll be better off.”
The goat struggled for a few more moments before it finally gave up and went back to eating. My hand was still wrapped around the teat, and I let it take a few more minutes to get used to the feeling before I slid the bucket directly underneath.
“Having trouble?” a voice called out from behind me.
When I turned, Ellyn, Raeth, and Karrida were all watching me from the fence bordering the pasture with huge grins on their faces.
“I’m trying my best,” I said as I fought back a chuckle. “These guys are difficult.”
“It seems that way,” Ellyn teased.
My wife was wearing a cream-colored dress that flowed down past her knees, and a large red sweater-- mine specifically-- engulfed her top half and hung low over her hands.
Karrida and Raeth were wearing the same thing they’d worn yesterday, but Karrida had taken the liberty of grabbing one of my wool jackets and throwing it on. The jacket practically swallowed her whole, too, and I couldn’t deny the heat brewing in my gut at the sight of them wearing my clothes.
“Do you need any help?” the half-dwarf asked as she swung her short legs back and forth from her perch on the fence.
“No, I’m all good!” I called back. “I think I’ve desensitized it to me now.”
“Well, you won’t mind if we stand and watch then?” Raeth asked with a devious smirk.
“I get nervous with an audience,” I joked as I pinched the top of the teat with my thumb and forefinger.
“Liar,” the half-orc drawled as she idly began braiding a small section of her long, dark hair.
“Alright, but you’re not allowed to laugh if it goes wrong again,” I warned as I silently prepared myself for what might happen.
“No promises,” Ellyn sang back.
I didn’t have much left to lose other than my dignity, so I began squeezing the teat with a gentle touch.
The goat bleated and thrashed, but the makeshift milking station kept it pinned in place. I let it have a tantrum for a few long seconds before I squeezed again, and more warm milk shot out into the bucket.
Rather than stopping every time it thrashed, I started to build a steady rhythm with the hopes it would get used to the sensation.
Sure enough, after the first dozen or so squeezes, the goat began to calm down, and it slowly eased up on its thrashing as I milked it.
I could tell the udder was full, because it was pressing against the back of my hand like a dull weight.
I released and repeated, over and over again, until I felt the udder go soft in my grip. I massaged it a little bit to get the last few drops of milk out, and when I pulled the bucket out from under it, I was surprised to see it had filled the bucket almost to the brim.
“Holy shit,” I mumbled as I looked at the steaming liquid in front of me. “You guys sure have got a lot in there.”
I heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching me, and when I turned around, Raeth was already advancing on my rear.
“Nice work,” the dark-haired mercenary commented as she stared down at the bucket. “That’s a lot of milk.”
“It sure is,” I said. “Usually, I’d need to cool this off and filter it, but I suppose if what Ellyn said is true, this is ready to be bottled and sold.”
“Why not make something with it?” Raeth suggested. “Do you know how to make goat cheese?”
“Vaguely,” I said. “It’s just lemon juice and vinegar. You’re supposed to heat it up, but again, that part is already done for us.”
“Do you want me to take it inside?” she asked. “Ellyn’s already bringing another bucket out for you. She said she wants to give it a try.”
“She can certainly give it a go,” I snorted. “These goats are… temperamental.”
“Clearly.” Raeth chuckled and pointed to the makeshift milking station, which was slowly slithering back into the ground. “I can find the lemon juice and vinegar, too.”
“Sure, that’d be handy,” I said as I offered her the bucket. “The sooner we get it curdling, the better.”
“How much lemon juice and vinegar did you want me to put in?” she asked as she hauled the bucket up with a grunt.
“There’s probably around twenty quarts in this bucket, so… a third of a cup for every two quarts,” I said as I did some quick, mental calculations. “Once you’ve added it, just keep stirring until it curdles. Then let it sit.”
“You’ve got it, boss,” Raeth said as she repositioned her grip on the bucket and began the march back to the house.
By the time she’d reached the door, Ellyn had appeared out of the barn holding two buckets. She offered one to me, and in return, I offered her my stool.
“So, which one next?” Ellyn asked as she eyed the field of unsuspecting goats.
“Pick a goat, any goat,” I joked. “We’ve got eight females, and I’m hoping all of them will give some milk if they’re pregnant.”
“Emberhorn females produce milk all year around,” Ellyn said. “It’s an evolutionary thing. They need a reliable food source during the winter in case there’s nothing on the mountains, and if they aren’t nursing, the body will just recycle the milk.”
“Damn,” I mumbled to myself. “That’s one hell of an evolutionary perk.”
And one hell of a boon when it came to producing milk all year around without needing to breed the females.