Chapter 2 #2
“Apparently, he's busy.” I hadn’t meant for that to sound snarky, but it had.
“It sure is weird to call him Doctor even though he’s been at it a few years. He was such a screwup in high school.”
“Total screwup,” I muttered.
“Now, you, on the other hand? You were smart as all get out. I always knew you’d turn out a few initials after your name.”
“You think you can find us some fresh, dry straw to put behind the cow and wherever we’ve got muddy muck?
” I put on a plastic sleeve that covered my right arm from hand to shoulder, something I thought I'd never have to do again.
I knelt behind the cow and examined the calf internally.
The calf was almost in the forward position.
That meant I should be able to get both shoulders and head into the pelvic canal. Then, it should be deliverable.
After Drew arranged some straw to give me a bit of padding from the mud, I worked to get the calf in the right position.
“I can put a leg on her butt and pull, if you want,” Drew offered. “Dr. Hurst sometimes has me do that.”
“No!” I said with more force than necessary. The chance of hurting the calf went up exponentially if we did that. “Sorry. Let me do this my way.”
My maneuvering continued for what seemed like endless minutes with me trying to rotate the calf. The cow’s contractions pulled and then pushed until I couldn't feel my arm. Repeat. Repeat again.
“Are you okay if I vape?” Drew asked.
“Sure.”
A while later he blew out a long puff of steam. “You sure you don't want me to pull? There was one time Josh did some sort of something with a cow's ears and then she delivered. Maybe you can try that.”
“What am I going to do to the cow's ears that will help it deliver a calf that’s in the wrong position?”
He shrugged.
Finally, I got the calf where I wanted. Muscles that hadn't been used since—well, probably never—had passed beyond that trembling phase to flat out hurt. I got the calf puller chains in place.
Drew rustled around in the background as if anxious to get to the pulling part. He moved closer and whispered, “Warning. Dad’s about to be on us.”
The elder Sawyer called out, “Who the hellfire are you?”
I cocked my head and glared. With my hand deep up the cow’s hind end it should be obvious.
He scrunched up his face, which split into a million wrinkles before he spit on the floor. “You're Chomping's girl, ain't ya? Why don’t ya step back and let me pull?”
Everyone on a farm wanted to help when it came time to pull a calf. It was annoying.
“Makes for good boasting dinner conversation.” My father’s voice echoed inside my brain.
Some farms could have six men ready to help and not a single one actually useful.
“I got it, sir,” I called out.
Thank goodness the elder Sawyer stayed in his corner sucking on his chewing tobacco and spitting into the hay.
After another twenty minutes or so, I had the device properly placed. I put my non-gloved hand on my knee for a rest and prepared for the easy part, the actual pulling.
“You look tired,” a low voice said behind me.
Whiskey? I craned around the cow’s backside to see a face I wished I could forget, one whose disgusting symmetry I’d left in the past. Josh Hurst’s brown eyes sparkled with something.
Was it condescension or judgement or humor?
I couldn’t read him. He didn’t deserve that ridiculous nickname I’d blurted out in a mush-brained moment of getting lost in those eyes long ago.
It wasn’t the first time I’d thought he was sexy, but it had been the first time he really saw me too.
The wind ruffled his brown hair, a little longer than I remembered—at least on top—and untouched by time with no hint of thinning or greying.
He was supposed to turn into a gargoyle after high school—double chin, bald head, maybe pushing three hundred pounds.
Not this. Not muscles everywhere and those long legs in jeans that still made something tighten low in my stomach.
Stubble shadowed his jaw but didn’t hide that he lacked even a hint of a double chin.
Lordy, seeing him as a full-grown adult absolutely blew my mind.
A brief smile showed he’d fixed the imperfectly aligned front teeth while he rubbed the cow’s ears.
Damn his audacity to refuse to decay like he was supposed to.
“I got this. The hard part is done. I’ve got the calf in position.” I might have shrieked it out a little too loud. I took a break to stand up and prove I wasn’t intimidated by his six foot-plus frame.
“Here, I'll get it.” He shouldered past me, his mud-caked boots coming dangerously close to crushing my feet. He gave a few solid tugs and out came the calf. My hard work to make sure it was properly placed made delivery a breeze. I watched, immobile until the moment…
The calf took a breath. It was alive. Thank, God.
I’m not a farm vet, but I’d done that. I had turned the baby and helped it deliver safely. I crouched next to the calf, removed gunk from its face, and palpated everywhere to make sure all legs and hips were intact. Everything checked out normal.
I stood up and stared at Josh, who wouldn’t look me in the eyes. He remained fixated on the calf.
I waited for him to say I'd done a great job to make his part easy.
Where was the credit I deserved for over an hour of pain?
He unhooked the calf from the puller, wiped the baby down again, and massaged the calf into movement.
I wanted to scream, “I can’t feel my arms and you can’t even say thank you?”
“So glad you could get the little lady set straight,” the elder Sawyer drawled behind us. “She sure was struggling. All in the ears, ain't that right, Doc?”
“The ears?” I echoed. I glared at Josh, waiting for him to correct Mr. Sawyer’s misconception.
Josh still didn’t make eye contact with me. Nothing had changed. The war was still on. Josh would continue to do whatever he could to one-up me.
I didn’t need to suffer any further in this cold, miserable muck while Dr. It’s-all-in-the-ears took credit for my work.
Of course, my big mouth wasn’t about to let this go unrecognized.
“The calf didn’t deliver because of ear rubbing.
I repositioned it and got everything placed to pull.
Got anything to add, Doctor Hurst?” I removed the soiled shoulder-length plastic sleeve from my arm and dropped it into the muddy straw.
Silence from Josh.
I glared at the embodiment of my disgust. “You can’t think of a single thing to say? You show up for the easy part and take all the credit?” I threw up my arms and muttered, “Nothing’s changed.”
He gave me a slight widening of his eyes before he went back to rubbing down the newborn calf.
My gaze bounced to Drew and the elder Sawyer. Drew shrugged, commiserating with me in silence. He could’ve said something out loud, the coward.
“Ya’ll believe this baloney about the ears?
” My Southern accent came hard, like it always did when I was furious.
I glared at all three men who remained silent.
“I busted my ass out here for over an hour. It’s because of me that your calf is alive, not Doc Voodoo Ears.
Let me warn you, if you don’t call for help when your cow is stuck and instead stand there rubbing the cow’s ears, the calf will die. ”
All three men stared at me like I was a feral dog, fearing if they so much as twitched I’d attack.
I was angry enough to kick Josh in the balls—for stealing credit for my work, for forcing me into the miserable cold, and for saddling me with a debt that wasn’t mine. Mostly, I was angry at Dad for dying. All of this was his fault.
“We're just glad Doc here could come by and get it done.” Elder Sawyer nodded to Josh. He launched a big brown spit into the straw. Gross.
“I’m so glad he had time in his busy schedule to stop by and get it done.
It couldn’t possibly have been born because of what I did for the past hour.
” I rinsed off the calf puller under a nearby cold-water faucet.
Before I left, I glanced at the used sleeve I’d discarded near Dr. Hurst. For a moment guilt shredded me.
My father's words ripped through my mind, “Always take the trash. Never leave a mess.”
Screw it. Dr. Magic Ears could clean it up.
I cast one last glare at Josh to give him a final chance to say the thank you I deserved. He gave me nothing but a wide-eyed deer-in-headlights stare.
Damn him. Damn them all. I deserved at least a word of sympathy acknowledging my father’s death.
“Tracker, let’s go.” The dog trotted at my side back to the truck.
I would find a way to crush Josh.