15. No Safety Nets #2
Ruby moved fast. She waded through the muck toward the rear of the stall, reaching up to rip a set of straps from a hook on the wall.
Clementine let out a ragged, exhausted grunt. Her hide was drenched in sweat.
“Hold your ground right there, Gallagher,” Ruby ordered, dropping to her knees in the sludge behind the animal. “Don’t let her lift that head.”
“I’m locked in,” I gritted out. “I won’t move.”
The raw flesh of my palms burned against the canvas. I kept the rope pulled taut over the timber post, maintaining the tension to keep the cow anchored. Blood smeared down the side of the grain.
Ruby reached into the mess of birth fluids and straw, finding the protruding front hooves of the calf. She worked the straps around the slick joints, pulling the loops tight.
The heat inside the shed was suffocating. I braced my boots against the mats, watching Clementine’s heaving belly.
“Here comes the contraction!” Ruby yelled, dropping her weight backward. “Keep the tension tight!”
A massive shudder rippled across the cow’s flank. Clementine pushed, letting out a low, guttural grunt. Ruby threw her body weight backward, pulling on the straps in time with the contraction.
The calf slipped free in a rush of clear fluid.
It landed in the ruined straw. The second it was over, Clementine went limp. The fight drained out of her, leaving her flat against the floor mats.
A high-pitched, bleating cry cut through the stagnant air of the shed.
The sound finally broke the suffocating tension. A tiny calf thrashed its legs in the ruined straw. I leaned forward against the timber post, closing my eyes.
I slowly let the tension off the rope. I unwrapped the canvas from the post, dropping the bloodstained fibers directly into the mud.
I turned around and leaned back against the splintered boards. My legs gave out. I slid down the rough boards, sinking to the floor mats until I was sitting in the filth. I stared up at the tin roof, gasping for air.
My shirt was soaked with muddy water and manure. My left side throbbed from where I had slammed into the bottom slats.
But I had held the line. I didn’t drop the rope.
Ruby dropped the straps and grabbed a handful of straw, wiping the mucus from the calf’s nose and mouth.
“We got a healthy little heifer, Sutton.” Ruby laughed breathlessly, wiping a streak of sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist. “Gallagher, I have to admit, you actually saved my life in there.”
I leaned my head back against the wood. The pain in my hands was excruciating, but I felt a fierce, quiet rush of pride.
“I’m just glad everybody is in one piece,” I managed, my voice raspy. “That was infinitely more stressful than any stunt rigging I’ve ever done.”
“You took a terrible fall against those baseboards, Hayes.” Sutton’s voice carried through the open doorway, cutting through the low grunts of the resting cow. “Do you think anything is broken or fractured?”
I pushed myself up from the filth. My boots slipped on the floor mats, and a sharp jolt of pain shot through my ribs. I gritted my teeth and kept my hands curled into loose fists so I wouldn’t put any pressure on the torn skin.
I shuffled past Clementine and Ruby, heading for the doorway.
“I’m coming out,” I muttered, bracing my right shoulder against the doorframe to steady myself.
I stepped over the threshold into the yard. The coastal air hit my damp shirt, a relief after the sweltering heat of the stall. I expected Sutton to be standing a few yards back by the wooden fence, ready to offer a polite nod of thanks before shutting me out again.
She wasn’t by the fence. She crossed the gravel driveway, walking directly toward me.
She didn’t stop at a safe distance. Sutton stepped right into my space, coming closer than she had in weeks. She wasn’t looking at me like a stranger anymore. Her eyes were wide, focused on the blood dripping from my hands.
Before I could say a word, she reached out. Her hands closed over my wrists.
Her fingers pressed, freezing against the heat of my skin. The mud and blood from my hands smeared across her pale fingers. I flinched, pulling my arms back slightly to protect her cardigan from the mess.
She refused to let go. She tightened her grip, holding my arms in place to inspect the damage.
“Stop moving, Hayes,” Sutton said, her voice tight with concern. “Let me see your hands. You’ve torn the skin wide open.”
I stared down at her fingers locking over my dirty wrists. She was ignoring the filth ruining her clothes. For the first time since I arrived at the farm, she wasn’t keeping me at arm’s length. She was actually stepping into the mess to take care of me.
I hissed in pain as her thumb brushed the torn edge of the rope burn, but I didn’t try to pull away again.
“I’m fine, Sutton, I swear,” I rasped, keeping my hands angled away so the blood wouldn’t drip onto her boots. “Don’t get too close. I’m going to get mud and blood all over your clothes.”
“I don’t care about the mud right now,” Sutton insisted, turning to lead the way. “We are walking to the porch, and you are going to sit still while I clean these cuts out.”
She didn’t ask for permission. She just pulled on my wrists, forcing me to follow her lead. I surrendered the control, letting her guide me across the gravel toward the porch.