Chapter Four #2
“I’ll feed this morning. Take the side-by-side and start checking the boundary fence.
The fencing tools are already loaded. Also”—he pulled a notebook out of his pocket—“Wade said that waterer number three is acting up, and we need to start moving manure out of the holding pens.” He glanced at her.
“We’ll tackle that after you’re done checking the fence, so it may not happen for a few days.
But definitely check that waterer on your way by, so we don’t end up dealing with a flood. ”
“Sure thing.”
Her tone was all business, and Trev suspected he knew why. He couldn’t put his finger on the how or why, but there’d been a shift between them after she arrived with her horses yesterday afternoon. She’d seemed jumpy, as if things between them were more personal than business.
Had it been because she wasn’t on the clock, so he wasn’t her boss? Or did keeping the horses on the ranch make her feel overly beholden to him, which he knew she hated?
“You don’t mind working alone?” he asked.
“I kind of prefer it.”
“Be careful.”
She dropped her business face and gave him a smirk. “How much trouble can I get in out there?”
“Don’t tempt fate.”
“Try and stop me.”
An answering quip rose to his lips and he swallowed it.
Is this a road you want to go down?
“Just … be careful out there.”
*
Be careful out there.
An unnecessary admonition. The last thing Maclyn wanted was to be rescued, so she’d keep an eye out for trouble, although she wasn’t certain how she could get into any serious distress while fencing. A bad pliers accident, maybe?
As per her orders, she cruised by waterer number 3 on the way to the boundary fence line, pulling to a stop at the edge of the growing pond of leaking water.
She opened the door, then made a grab for Raisin as the dog leaped over her, tumbling onto the ground and then rocketing off, intent on teaching the ground squirrel who’d poked its head out of its hole a serious lesson.
“Raisin!” Mac looked heavenward before getting out of the side-by-side and calling again.
Intent on her prey, the dog didn’t slow down as she tore through the muddy puddle, throwing up water on either side of her.
The ground squirrel ducked into its hole, but Raisin was not deterred.
She began digging ferociously, yipping as she worked, oblivious to the fact that the rodent had popped out of a subterranean back door and was now standing upright behind her, watching the little dog throw dirt.
“Oh, Raisin,” Maclyn murmured, squeezing her forehead with one hand.
There was a bath in the little dog’s future. The question was, where?
The fairgrounds shower, of course. They’d both clean up that evening and then she could grab a few things at the grocery store before returning to her camping spot, which was conveniently close to the Tree Fork and also free.
Raisin continued yipping and digging as Maclyn waded into the muck surrounding the watering unit and pulled the cover. The ball arm was stuck, and she worked it free, stopping the flow. The connection was well calcified and needed replaced but would be okay for the time being.
Maclyn called Raisin, then finally gave up and strode over to the dog, who stopped digging long enough to give Mac a frustrated canine glare.
“Yes. Ground squirrels are bad.” She scooped up the muddy dog, holding her a little ways away from her as they returned to the side-by-side. “You know I’m going to have to clean these seats when we get back.” Raisin grinned at her.
Maclyn spent the next three hours slowly driving along the fence, tightening wire and replacing staples that had popped out during the winter. Deep snow was hard on fences and had broken wire in several places, mainly in gullies and flats that would be prone to drifting.
She was meticulous about her repairs, both out of personal pride and because she knew that even though he was being nice about it, Trev didn’t have that much faith in her abilities.
She might not have cow experience, but she was a fencing queen.
After her father had died, and before Frank had screwed them over, she’d gone to work for a neighboring horse farm to take her mind off her loss.
Her expectation had been that she’d groom and ride horses for three months prior to her senior year in high school.
The reality was that she’d mucked stalls, moved manure with the little Case tractor and fixed fence with the other summer hire. Miles of fence.
It had been disappointing, but she’d picked up skills that had helped her to get hired at the Sweet Grass Ranch.
Maclyn leaned back against the side-by-side and took a long drink of water. She screwed the top back on the water bottle and called Raisin, who was sitting at the base of a Ponderosa pine, waiting for the chipmunk that was scolding her to come just a little closer …
“Come on, girl. We’ll visit your friends tomorrow.”
Raisin, exhausted from a day of protecting Mac from small rodents, gave up her vigil.
Once she was seated next to Mac, tongue lolling as little bits of mud and debris flaked off her curly coat, they began retracing the route to the ranch.
They were almost to the gate leading to the maternity pen when she saw Trev crouched next to a calf.
The mother, obviously in full protection mode, circled, head down, looking to get her baby out of the clutches of the human who was obviously threatening it.
When Trev heard the engine, he shot a look her way, then waved an arm.
Mac opened the gate and drove through without bothering to close it again, heading for Trev.
“This guy needs to be taken in,” he said as she pulled to a stop.
The baby was soaking wet, it’s tongue hanging out the side of its mouth. The mother, close to exploding, blew snot as Mac opened the door.
“Careful.”
Like she needed a warning. Deep cow experience was not necessary in order to understand that mom was about to take out anyone who stood between her and her baby.
Trev got to his feet and picked up the sturdy shovel handle, holding it in the mother’s face. “Can you pick up the calf and get it into the back of the side-by-side?”
“No problem,” Mac replied, jumping out and opening the tailgate. The calf was gangly and, with a coat of slime, hard to hang on to. After a false start, she managed, through pure adrenaline, to heft the little guy to her chest and stumble to the vehicle, dumping him into the bed.
Trev kept his eye on the cow as he backed to the passenger side, but the mother had found her baby in the bed and was now furiously licking it.
“Head to the barn. I’ll get the gate so we can get junior out without getting stomped.”
Mac did as she was told, with Trev managing to shut out the mother cow after Maclyn drove through.
They laid the calf in the deep straw of one of the holding pens and Mac’s heart squeezed as the baby blinked brown eyes at them, his tongue still protruding from his mouth.
“He’s weak, but I think if we get some milk in his belly, he has a chance.”
“How do we do that?”