Chapter 6
The smell of bacon filtering in through a crack in the bedroom door stirs me from fitful sleep.
A smile curves my lips as I sit up and stretch, taking a moment to bask in the gentle sunlight filtering in through the lace curtains.
I slip on the fluffy, oversized robe hanging on the hook by the door and pad down the stairs toward the kitchen.
“Well, look who decided to get up? Morning, sleeping beauty.” Grandma turns from the stove; the effect of her mock chastisement broken by the warm smile on her face.
“Morning.” I give her a sleepy grin, moving to her side, where she readily sets down her spatula and wraps me into a hug.
There’s a surge of emotion inside me—happiness, love, relaxation, and a profound sadness—and Grandma releases the hug too soon.
I open the cabinet to grab plates for breakfast and automatically pull out four.
Grandma shakes her head, a flicker of displeasure behind her eyes that she quickly masks. “Just the two of us this morning. Your mom and dad are busy. But we’ll have a fun day together, don’t you worry.”
Frowning at the plates and her mention of my parents, I set the table. Why would I expect them to be here? They haven’t spoken to Grandma since we moved away when I was little.
“What happened between you?”
Grandma’s brow furrows at my question. “What do you mean, sweetie?”
“Why did we move away? Why does Dad hate you enough to not let me come visit or see you?” Unbidden tears prick my eyes. “Was it my fault?”
“Oh, honey, no!” Grandma turns off the burner and wipes her hands on the towel on her shoulder. “We had a disagreement, that’s all. But it’s got nothing to do with you.” She sits down beside me, and when I blink, my plate is filled with a stack of pancakes and crispy bacon.
“This looks delicious, thank you.” I take a bite, the fluffy pancake and sweetness of the syrup hitting me with a sucker punch of nostalgia. As I eat more, I realize tears are streaming down my face.
Grandma’s brow furrows with concern, and she rests her hand atop mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. She looks older now, the deep-set wrinkles on her face are ones I never saw in person. “Belle, honey, why are you crying? What’s wrong?”
“I miss you.” More tears fall. “I’m sorry.”
She opens her mouth to speak, but a loud crowing comes out instead of words. She looks down at her lap, where there’s now a white rooster, and she shakes her head at him with an amused smile, stroking a hand across his back.
“There’s nothing to—”
RR EH ERR EH ERR
I startle awake, throwing back the covers as I sit up, heart pounding in the darkness of an unfamiliar room. I only have a second to get my bearings before the rooster crows again, so loud it sounds like the bird is inside the room with me.
“What time is it?” I will my sleep-heavy eyelids to stay open as I glance at my phone. “4:45 am? Seriously?”
With a groan, I flop back down onto the mattress and pull the blankets up to my chin. I’m drifting off when I’m jolted back to consciousness again by another ear-piercing crow.
“Goddammit, why?” I place a pillow over my head, but it doesn’t do shit to muffle the next insistent screech.
Apparently, he’s not going to stop.
Groggily, I get out of bed and go over to the window, pulling back the lace curtain to peer into the darkness outside.
There’s the faintest hint of light on the horizon, and between that and the porch light, I spot the noisy culprit.
A fluffy white rooster standing in the yard right beneath my window.
I struggle with the window latch, almost jamming my finger, and wrench the window open. “Go away,” I hiss down at the rooster. He flaps his wings, puffing up a bit, and tips his head to look in my direction. “It’s still dark! Let me sleep.”
There’s a few seconds of triumph where he doesn’t make a sound, but then I swear he meets my eye right as he lets out the loudest crow yet.
RR EH ERR EH ERRRRR
“You little jerk!”
I have the overwhelming urge to grab my slipper and hurl it down at him, but I don’t because my aim is terrible. I slam the window shut and storm downstairs and out the front door, yelping as the cold pre-dawn air bites my bare arms and legs.
The cock looks up from where he’s nonchalantly pecking at the dirt, not concerned about the angry human headed toward him.
I wave my arms at him. “Get out of here! Shoo!”
He moves toward me, not at all intimidated by my shouting and flailing. I stop when he’s a few feet away, glaring down at him. “How did you even get here in the first place? They should’ve kept you in that cage, because clearly you’re a menace.”
His head tilts, and he looks at me like he knows exactly what I’m saying, but gives zero shits about what I think. A second later, he crows.
“I’m already up!” I throw my hands out in exasperation. “What do you want from me?”
He takes a few steps closer, and I back up. For all my bluster, I’d rather not get pecked to death by a rooster that seems out to get me.
He advances again, making soft clucking sounds, and I take another step back. This dance continues until my feet hit the porch and I wobble, catching myself and sitting down on the step.
Doodle lets out more clucks, and his wings spread. I cover my face with my arms in alarm, but no cock attack occurs. When I pull my hands away, he’s standing on the porch step beside me, staring at me.
“You’re so weird, dude.”
He blinks up at me.
“What?” I huff. “I don’t have any food or anything.”
He clucks and nudges my forearm with a soft headbutt.
The weird dream memory of my grandmother sitting in the kitchen with a rooster on her lap flashes in my mind.
I lift my arms hesitantly to make room in my lap, praying I’m not falling right into this weird bird’s plan to make me let my guard down so he can peck my eyes out.
I don’t know anything about chickens, but it sounds like he lets out a sigh, and then he steps onto my lap, his weird clawed feet jabbing into my thighs through the thin fabric of my sleep shorts as he gets situated.
Holding completely still, I watch in utter confusion as he nuzzles his beak against my hair a few times and then settles down in my lap.
“What is happening?” I whisper to him.
He lets out a cluck, tipping his head.
“Please don’t get mad at me if you don’t like this.” I place a tentative hand on his back.
His eyes close. A second later, he starts purring. I didn’t even know chickens could purr!
“Well, okay then.” He doesn’t move, so I risk giving him a light scratch. He seems to like it.
“Good boy. You’re secretly a nice cock, aren’t you?” I snort at my own words, a little delirious from still being half-asleep and the surreal situation I’m in. I continue to stroke his feathers and eventually the soft purrs and clucks stop altogether.
He fell asleep.
I stay still, something pulling tight in my chest as I gaze down at the bird nestled in my lap.
It almost seems like he needed this. Like he couldn’t settle down until someone held him.
But that’s not a thing with chickens, is it?
I’ll have to ask someone later. Much later, after I’ve gone back to bed and slept for many more hours.
As the wind picks up a little, I regret not putting on something warmer before going outside, but how was I supposed to know that I’d become a rooster bed?
He’s soft and warm and thankfully doesn’t smell bad, and before I know it, I’m lulled into a half-asleep state as I watch the sun slowly peeking up on the horizon.
“Morning.”
A startled sound of alarm bursts out of me at the unexpected voice, and Doodle lets out an angry cluck, smacking me in the chest with his wings as he flies off my lap.
Cal stands before me, his massive body blocking out the faint beams of morning light and making it hard for me to see his expression.
But I can certainly imagine how he must be looking at me—like I’ve lost my damn mind, sitting outside at the butt crack of dawn in my skimpy pajamas, snuggling with a rooster.
I wrap my arms across my chest defensively. Also, to hide my nipples poking through the threadbare fabric of my faded t-shirt.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask, glaring at him.
“Could ask you the same question,” he replies drolly. He shifts so he’s in profile as Doodle walks by him, giving the bird a wary look and muttering something under his breath. When he looks back at me, I can see the side-eye he gives me.
“You have trouble with your clothes again?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Just came out for a minute to attend to an unexpected visitor. Was going to head back in now that he’s gone.”
Cal whips around to look over his shoulder and curses when he notices that Doodle vanished. “Damn bird, if you go out near the road again, I’m going to pluck all your feathers,” he calls out toward the treeline.
“I don’t know, he doesn’t seem that bad,” I say with a shrug, my legs stiff as I stand up. I tug my sleep shorts down a bit in a futile attempt to be more decent in front of this judgy cow man.
His gaze drops to my legs for a split-second, before rising back to my face with a frown. “I’ll wait out here while you get dressed.”
I blink at him, my sleepy brain not understanding why he needs to wait for me. “Uh, why?”
“Can’t take you on a tour and show you the ropes in your pajamas.”
“A tour? Now?” Judging by the sky, it’s not even 6 yet.
Cal nods. “Yeah, we’re getting started a little late, but I figured I’d go easy on you since it’s your first day.” He smiles at me, and I’m so shocked by the expression that I find myself nodding.
“Ah, okay, uh, thanks? Guess I’ll go get dressed then.”
He nods and leans against the railing of the porch stairs, watching me as I head inside.
An exhausted, spiteful part of me wants to make him wait a long time as a punishment for being a dick to me yesterday.
But the part of me that’s determined to prove him wrong about my capabilities is a lot stronger, bolstering me as I rush to brush my teeth, wrangle my hair into a rough braid, and get dressed.
I pick the least ostentatious of the outfits Gretchen packed for me: a pink and white checked flannel with tiny sequins and rhinestones around the collar, a pair of bedazzled but sturdy jeans, and the dark pink cowboy boots.
I forgo the matching pink cowboy hat since my head is throbbing already from the lack of sleep.
After shoveling some of the leftover cornbread into my mouth, I head back outside.
When he hears me approach, Cal stops gazing out at the horizon, and I ignore the way he glares at my outfit.
I plaster on my best bright, eager smile. “Alright, I’m ready for my tour!”
The bastard lied to me. This isn’t a tour. This is torture.
And judging by the little smirk on Cal’s face as I emerge from the barn stall, covered in sweat, mud, and things I absolutely don’t want to acknowledge, he’s loving it.
We’ve been at it for hours. I’ve hauled bags of feed and hay, picked up trash along the walking paths, and now, mucked out horse stalls. My stomach hurts from how hungry I am, my head pounds with a wicked headache, and my rarely used muscles scream at me in protest.
Despite all of that, my stubbornness flares brighter, and I smile at him cheerily. “That look okay?”
Cal peers into the stall, taking a long time to survey my work. I swear to god, if he gets out a white glove to check the cleanliness, I’ll scream.
After what feels like an eternity, he gives a curt nod. “Decent.”
My molars grind together as I keep my smile wide. “Great! What’s next?”
“Figured since we’re here, I’d give you a little break.”
I perk up at his words, but attempt not to seem too eager.
“Dutch already fed them, but we can say hi to some of the horses out in the paddock. Just be sure to mind the electric fences. Frank and Lollipop can get a little bitey this time of morning, as a heads-up.”
Any relief I felt at the prospect of a break vanishes, my stomach plummeting.
I’m terrified of horses. I have vague memories of being on the back of one as a kid, but any good associations I had with them have disappeared with time, replaced by horror stories of getting thrown or kicked by them.
Logically, I know they don’t mean me any harm, but my lizard brain can’t get over how big they are and how they could easily hurt me, unintentionally or not.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m really not tired yet. Why don’t we go over to the goat barn? I’ve always wanted to learn how to milk something.”
Cal’s brow furrows at my strained, falsely chipper tone. “You sure? I don’t mind taking it a little easy.”
I shake my head. “No need.” I wash my hands off in the freezing cold tap, trying to seem nonchalant even as my fingers go numb. “Contrary to what you think, I can handle it.”
He watches me without his typical stern expression. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he almost looked concerned about me.
I don’t need his pity. I’m capable of anything I damn please, and he’ll learn that soon enough.
Even if it means getting covered in more animal shit.
Or if it means I’ll have to ice my entire back when I get back to the house.
Hell, I’d probably pass out from hunger before I asked him if we could stop and eat. I won’t let him win.
“Are you sure—”
I wave him off. “Come on, let’s go milk some goats!”