Chapter 13
WESTON
Thud, thud, thud.
I bolted upright in bed, the sheets tangled around my waist as the darkness pressed in, trying to decide whether I’d been dreaming or if I’d actually—
Thud, thud, thud!
Definitely not a dream. Someone was at my door, and they wanted something. Urgently.
“Coming,” I called, kicking off the sheets and scrambling out of bed as my heart started racing. “Lena, what is it?” It was bound to be her, right? I didn’t know who else would be pounding on my door at—I checked my watch on the nightstand—four in the morning.
“Hurry up, would ya?” came the reply.
That didn’t sound like Lena. I threw the door open, blinking until my sleep fog faded and the hazy outline of Callum came into view in the hallway. He wore mud-caked overalls and smelled strongly of wet straw and manure. That was not a smell a man wanted to wake up to.
“Sorry to wake you,” he said, voice gruff. He didn’t actually sound all that sorry.
“S’all right,” I mumbled, rubbing my eyes, still trying to figure out what was going on and why it required me being up at this hour.
Had something happened to Agnes? Or was it Lena?
That didn’t make sense, though. Why wouldn’t they have come to me themselves?
I glanced around. Milo was still passed out on the rug in front of the fireplace—he’d barely popped his head up in reaction to Callum’s knocking. “What’s wrong?”
“One of the Highland coos is calving,” he said. “Labor was progressing well, but it’s stopped now.”
I was suddenly flooded with memories of late nights poking my head out my bedroom door.
Hushed voices. Watching Grandad march down the stairs, wellies under his arm, setting off into the pitch black.
On those particular nights, it had usually been an emergency with the livestock that had pulled him out of bed.
When I was young, I’d wake in the morning to dramatic tales of babies born in the wee hours after a touch-and-go night.
When I was a little older, Grandad would give me a wave, and I’d race after him in my pajamas.
My chest ached at the clarity of the memories, and I ran my knuckles over my sternum.
“I’m gonna need help to get the calf out,” Callum said.
I nodded, wide awake now. “Give me two minutes.”
“I’ll give you one,” he said, marching off. “Meet me by the door.”
Without hesitating, I turned back to the room and threw on the first bits of clothing I could get my hands on and spared a glance for Milo to see if he’d come, but when he simply thumped his tail, I took off down the stairs, stepping out the front door into the chill of dawn.
Callum set a brisk pace for the cattle shed, and as I hurried along behind him, I was struck by another memory.
I must have been about fifteen. A wicked storm had blown through the area, and Grandad shook me awake in the middle of the night, bundling me out the door in a hurry.
A massive yew tree had come down in the wind, crashing through one end of the sheep shed.
The animals were in a frenzy, and we spent the rest of the night pulling sheep from the wreckage and moving timber.
There’d been a lamb orphaned in the accident, and I’d snuggled it in my jacket until morning.
As we neared the shed, light spilled across dew-soaked grass, our feet crunching over gravel.
I followed Callum inside the building and down the main aisle to a pen filled with freshly bedded straw.
Lying on her side in the middle of the pen was a shaggy-haired, ginger-colored Highland cow.
She looked less than impressed with the situation.
Her tail flicked as we entered the pen, and a low moo echoed her discomfort.
“This here is Skye,” Callum said, making his way across the pen. “She’s about to be a first-time mum.”
“Hiya, girl,” I said, laying my hand against her side.
“You’re all right. We’ll get you looked after.
” She flicked her tail again, and as I stared into one large, glassy black eye, I knew it was going to take all we had to get this calf out safely.
My hand ran along Skye’s stringy coat as Callum readied his supplies. “How long has she been in labor?”
“Going on three hours now. When it just stopped completely, I got worried.”
“Is the baby backward in there?” I didn’t know much about calving but I knew a breech birth was potentially deadly.
Callum shook his head, handing me a pair of long, plastic gloves. I slid them on up to my elbows. “I took a look, and I think we’re dealing with carpal flexion.”
I arched an eyebrow at him. What the bloody hell was that?
“One of the calf’s legs is bent back in the birth canal,” he explained. “That’s why she’s gonna need our help to get this wee one out.”
“How do you know?”
“Come on over here,” he said, waving me around the back of the cow. He raised the tail and guided my gloved hand. “Feel that?”
I nodded.
“That’s the calf’s nose. And shift your hand over a wee bit. Feel that hard edge?”
“Aye.”
“That’s the front hoof. I can only find one.”
I pulled my hand free. “So we reposition the flexed limb and the calf should come out?”
“That’s the idea.” He retrieved the two calving ropes and reached inside the cow with one of the ropes. “I’m looping the rope over the leg that’s presented properly,” he explained. “I need you to hold this to maintain its position.”
I took the rope he handed me, wrapping it around my hand until I felt tension.
“You got that?” he asked, giving me a hard look.
I nodded, adjusting my position, digging my boots into the straw. “I’m ready.”
“Okay, then. Three, two, one…” Callum heaved, pushing on the calf. “I can feel the other leg! Just unbending it now slowly.”
Skye made a disgruntled noise, and I held my breath. When she started twitching, I called her name softly, cooing until she settled.
“I’ve got the hoof!” Callum exclaimed. “Hand me that other calving rope.”
I watched him work. “She’s already exhausted, so we’re gonna help pull this little one out.” He gave me both handles. “You ready?”
Oh, I was going to pull this calf out? Okay, then. I nodded.
“Get yourself in a good position,” Callum said. “To give yourself leverage.”
I kicked some of the straw out of the way, making sure my boots wouldn’t slip.
“You want to try and time your pulls with her contractions,” Callum explained.
I gritted my teeth and tugged hard, watching the hooves slip free first, then that tiny nose I’d felt. The head and shoulders came next, and my heart thudded at the sight. This little one was almost here.
“Hips will be tough,” Callum said.
I braced myself, then gave another great tug, and the entire calf slipped free onto the bed of straw. Callum was immediately down on the ground, rubbing straw along its coat and clearing its face of the birth fluids to make sure it could breathe.
“It’s a girl,” he said, looking up at me with a pleased grin. “You got a name?”
I shook my head, still reeling. I’d never experienced something as exhilarating as guiding a new life into the world.
“Aye, well, give it a think. Let’s clear out a bit and see if Skye will clean her up.”
Callum and I both moved out of the way, taking our supplies with us. As expected, Skye perked up, got to her feet, and turned to inspect the new addition to the pen. Once those mothering instincts kicked in, she started licking the calf clean.
Callum nudged me. “You handled that better than I expected. Done this before?”
“Never with a Highland cow,” I admitted, “but Grandad had me help with the occasional sheep birth.” The calf popped her head up, a shaggy mound of adorable, ginger fur.
“Well, you did a good job,” he said approvingly.
Part of me cheered internally at the compliment. Callum clearly wasn’t an easy man to impress, and if he approved of me being here, of the job I was doing around Lochbrae, maybe that meant I truly would do Grandad justice.
“Just happy I could help,” I said, meaning that. My hands tingled, still buzzing from the thrill of the birth.
“Your Grandad never hesitated to get his hands dirty,” Callum said. “You never felt like he thought he was too good for this kind of work.”
Callum’s expression softened the longer he watched the calf. “You really enjoy your work, eh?” I asked.
“This job and this town mean a lot to me,” he said as he leaned against the fence.
“Pete hired me when I just couldn’t seem to hold a job down.
Thought I’d been cursed or something with the amount of bad luck I was having, getting laid off again and again.
I’d turned to drinking down my sorrows. That’s when Pete found me, down at the pub in town. ”
I could envision it. Grandad walking in and laying his eyes on this down-on-his luck lad and just knowing he was right for the job. He always seemed to know what a person needed most.
“He took one look at me and said ‘What d’you know about maintaining an estate?’” Callum continued.
“And that was it. The man didn’t even give me time to answer the question.
He told me to get the drinking under control, and the next thing I knew he’d welcomed me to the guest house on the property, made sure I had everything I needed and took me out for a stalk.
We bagged a buck that day, and he invited me around to dinner the next night.
Not a pretense in the world. He was exactly what he’d always seemed to be: a good man. ”
I nodded, my throat thick.
“If I’m being honest,” Callum continued. “I wasn’t sure whether you really deserved to take the place over. Lord knows that cousin of yours would’ve been outright shit at it. Did I tell you I caught a couple of suits out near the property line hammering in stakes?”
“What? Why didn’t you say something?” This was ridiculous.
“Bah. Soon as they left, I moved the markers over onto the other land and gave ol’ Conor a warning call in case they come knocking.
He’s looking forward to taking the piss out of ‘em, so don’t you go and ruin our fun.
” He clapped me on the shoulder and I chuckled wanting to know what they had planned but also wanting to plead ignorance.
“Just so you know, I think you’re doing a decent job of proving yourself.
That was a bonnie speech you gave at Pete’s funeral.
My wife, Maisie, also works down at the Deerhound Inn with Isla.
And according to Isla, you did well handling the crowd at the committee meeting.
Christ knows how uptight and argumentative they get about their festival. ”
I huffed a laugh.
“Anyway, Lena seems dead brilliant, so if she likes you, maybe you’re a good one after all,” he concluded.
“She is brilliant,” I agreed, because that was the truth.
Callum tipped his head, and I was glad we’d found a better understanding, and that part of him thought I could live up to Grandad’s legacy. “I’m gonna tidy a few things,” he said. “Feel free to head back to bed.”
I said goodnight, then stuck around for a few more minutes, watching the calf take in its new surroundings as I mulled over a name.
Nothing came to me, but I couldn’t help smiling as the calf started shifting around in the straw.
I looked on with pride as it figured out how to use its limbs, and I wondered when I’d last felt such strong satisfaction.
More than that, I wondered what Lena would have thought of this moment, and I couldn’t help wishing she’d been here.
Part of me regretted not waking her, but she’d returned late from Paris and was probably exhausted.
Still, I knew one thing for sure: this moment, welcoming a new life, would have been so much more special with her by my side.