Chapter 13 #2
Miri and Moses had developed a good working rhythm.
They both knew what needed to be done, and Moses knew his grandfather’s farm very well, so they got the stable mucked out in record time.
There was something rather friendly and comforting about working with Moses side by side.
They didn’t say much, but when Moses mutely handed her the hose, she shot him a grin.
“Moses, I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but we do work well together. ”
“Under different circumstances, we might even count as friends.”
“I think we could count as friends under these circumstances too.”
“You think?” His tone was soft, but the fact that he didn’t immediately agree to her offer of friendship stung a little.
“I don’t have many friends,” she said.
“That’s not true. Everyone likes you.”
She thought back to Service Sunday—the whispers, the sidelong looks, the way her family gathered into a little group without meaning to. Things had been different.
“They used to. People are talking about me now.”
Moses was silent for a moment. “They aren’t asking your side of it?”
“A few people did, but it was tense. They didn’t really want to hear my side. They think your grandfather did wrong in leaving the land to me.”
“They think you did something?” he asked.
“I don’t know what they think. They aren’t telling me that. They’re just being distant and whispering behind my back.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s not fair to you.”
“It is what it is.” Maybe that was the cost of the farm. She’d pay in relationships and tension instead of dollars.
“Well, I’m your friend, at the very least.”
“Are you really?” She squinted up at him. Because she didn’t need honeyed words and false intents. Not now. She had enough of that with her friends in the community.
Moses nodded. “I hate that you have my dawdie’s farm, but it wasn’t your fault. And like you said, it is what it is. So, yah, I’m your friend, Miri.”
“Danke. I like that you’re honest.”
“It’s the only way to be.”
She smiled at that. That was why she’d always liked Moses. He had a solid character and a good heart.
As Miri finished filling the water trough in the pasture behind the stable, stretching the hose to its limit, Tabitha arrived in her buggy. Miri carried the water-spouting hose back toward the tap and turned it off, then headed around the building toward the drive.
“How is everything?” Tabitha called. She tied her horse up at the hitching post.
“Bitsy is in a bad way,” Miri said. “I’ve got her in the barn, but she’s not drinking enough.”
“Let’s go take a look,” Tabitha said as she grabbed her bag out of her buggy and walked briskly toward the path that led to the barn. “What are her symptoms now?”
“Lethargy,” Miri said. “She’s normally friendly with me, and she doesn’t show any interest in me now.”
Moses fell in next to Miri as they all headed toward the barn. She looked up at him, and his expression was solemn.
“Her mouth?” Tabitha asked.
“Pasty,” Miri confirmed. “I’ve put water on her tongue, and I even used a watering can to try to pour more water into her mouth, but she didn’t like that.”
“She won’t, but she needs water,” Tabitha said. “In fact, I might need to set up an IV for her, but I’ll take a look at her first.”
Moses got to the barn door first and opened it for Tabitha and Miri to pass through ahead of him, then he stood back, one boot hooked over the rail of an empty stall as Tabitha went into Bitsy’s stall and started to look her over.
Bitsy lay on her side in the soiled hay—there had been more diarrhea, it seemed. Tabitha moved gloved hands over the heifer’s head and neck. Bitsy didn’t give Tabitha any attention either, but she did open her big, gentle eyes once and look toward Miri.
Gott, heal Bitsy.
She was awfully sick, and Miri knew that veterinarians couldn’t perform miracles. But maybe Gott would have mercy on poor Bitsy and help her to recover. Bitsy was special and always would be.
“Yah, she’s very dehydrated,” Tabitha said. “We need to do an IV. There isn’t time to try to get water down her throat.”
Tabitha opened her bag and started pulling out supplies in plastic and paper packaging. She tore open one package and pulled out a tube, then she pulled out a bag with what looked like water inside of it.
“This is saline,” Tabitha said. “It’ll help to rehydrate her.”
She tore open yet another package and pulled out a needle. She popped the protective casing off it.
“This is going to pinch. Cattle hate it as much as people do.” Tabitha murmured, and she felt along Bitsy’s neck.
Bitsy didn’t move. Tabitha tapped a spot on the heifer’s throat a couple of times, then pressed her lips together in a grimace and plunged the needle into the heifer’s neck, her hand firm and swift. Bitsy jolted a little bit.
“That’s a good sign,” Tabitha said. Some blood leaked out of the other end of the needle.
“What’s good?”
“She flinched,” Tabitha replied. “The sicker a cow is, the less they respond.”
Tabitha attached the tube to a port on the bottom of the bag, then handed the bag of saline to Miri.
She held it aloft while Tabitha attached it to the inserted needle and adjusted the flow with a little plastic dial.
Miri glanced over her shoulder. Moses still stood there, leaning on a rail, watching the scene with dark, somber eyes.
“Keep holding the bag, and we’ll get the fluid into her,” Tabitha said. “I’m going to check the other cattle.”
There were three others in the barn—the sickest of the herd. But the others were still on their feet, and they’d drink water, which was better than Bitsy. As Tabitha moved through the other stalls, Moses came closer and leaned over the rail of Bitsy’s stall.
“I checked on her last night too,” Miri said quietly.
She’d come out in her nightgown and a shawl in the moonlight, and she’d tried to get Bitsy to eat some nice, quality silage.
She’d been on her feet last night and a bit irritated at being disturbed so late.
By morning, though, she’d been lying in the hay and ignoring Miri’s attention.
“I didn’t know she was this sick,” Miri admitted. “It’s a good thing Tabitha was already scheduled to come.”
“Sometimes cattle can seem like they aren’t doing too bad, and then they get worse fast,” Moses said. “It’s not your fault.”
“I know,” she said irritably. Mostly because it did feel like her fault—she should have noticed. Bitsy was different. She wasn’t just part of the herd.
“I should go check the cattle in the small pasture and see if they are improving,” Moses said.
“I can do it—” she started to say.
“Someone’s got to help Tabitha,” he interrupted. “And this is your farm. You’ve got to be the one here. I’ll go check the herd and report back.”
She looked up at him, and he cast her a lopsided little smile.
“She’ll be okay,” he added.
“Yah, okay, then.” He was making sense. She was the owner, and she needed to be here with the veterinarian.
Moses headed back out of the barn and disappeared through the door. She turned back to Bitsy just as Tabitha came back.
“Where did Moses go?” her cousin asked.
“To check the rest of the sick cattle in the small pasture.”
“He’s a good farmer,” Tabitha said.
“Yah.” He was a good farmer, and he was a good man too. This wasn’t his land or even his family’s land anymore, but he cared. Somehow, she hadn’t expected that.
“Now, for Bitsy,” Tabitha said, looking down at the heifer. “When she’s able, we want to get her onto her feet so she can urinate. Once she urinates, we’ll know she’s improving.”
Miri gave her cousin a nod. “Danke.” But looking at her cousin’s face, she noticed faint rings under her eyes as if she wasn’t getting enough sleep. And she looked a little pale, too, and the normal sparkle in her eyes had dimmed.
“Tabby, are you okay?” Miri asked.
“Yah, I’m fine. Why?”
“You look sad.” That was really what it came down to.
“Oh . . .” Tabitha’s smile slipped. “You heard about Michael, of course?”
“Yah. I’m sorry. It can’t be easy for you.”
“Honestly, Miri? It’s complicated.”
“Does that mean you and Jonas can finally get married?” she asked.
Their growing closeness had been obvious to everyone, and considering that Tabitha had been divorced, there had been a lot of talk amongst the family about how inappropriate that growing friendship had been.
All the same, Miri had sympathized with her cousin.
She was still a woman with a heart, after all.
The sadness in Tabitha’s brown gaze welled up, and she looked away quickly.
“He’s marrying someone else,” Tabitha said, then her shoulders drooped. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. It’s not finalized yet, but . . . it’s true.”
“I’ll be discreet,” Miri replied. Her older cousin had trusted her with something very delicate, and she felt the honor.
It was true that engagements were kept private until their banns were announced in church, but that didn’t mean word didn’t get out.
When people cared about each other, it was hard to hide.
“Danke.” Tabitha gave her a grateful smile.
“So to answer your question, nee. I’m not marrying Jonas.
” Tabitha gathered up the packaging from the IV and pushed it into her bag.
“Your other animals here in the barn are improving. I’ll check in with Moses before I leave, but we’ve done all we can for Bitsy.
Once this bag of saline is empty, it’s a matter of watching and waiting. ”
Miri watched as the fluid drip, drip, dripped down the tube and into the needle.
It was good that Tabitha had been here, and it was too bad about Jonas.
He was a handsome man, and many a girl had hoped to get his attention.
It looked like someone had. Whoever had managed to snag Jonas Peachy was lucky indeed.