I think my dad developed a permanent twitch in his right cheek after she told him that. He preferred hands-on learning to books, but Mellie had her own ideas. And as our mother said, “At least one of them’s interested.”
Duchess gave a low, annoyed moo—couldn’t blame her, my mind had been wandering—and swung her head in my direction.
Get it out.
“Arm or calf?”
Get them both out of my ass before I kick yours.
Funny how she sounded an awful lot like me. They all did. Because they were me.
“You okay?” Owen set a steaming bucket of water at my side.
Had I been talking to her out loud? God, I hoped not.
I glanced up. He only appeared mildly curious about the process and not concerned over my sanity.
“I’m peachy,” I said as Duchess bore down again.
I’m sure I had unmentionable gunk everywhere. Wasn’t the first time, wouldn’t be the last. If I had a problem with gunk, I wouldn’t be a vet.
I fished around a bit more for a hoof, a nose, something, found nothing, and withdrew my arm.
“It’s going to be a while,” I said.
Duchess stomped—once, twice, again.
“You’d almost think she understood you.”
“Almost.” I made use of the water.
Owen seemed as tired as I felt. It was after three A.M. Who knew how long he’d been awake. At this point I couldn’t remember how long I had.
He sat on a hay bale just inside the stall door, leaned his head against the wall, and closed his eyes. “Do you ever get called to a calving in the bright light of day?”
“Not yet.”
When a minute or more passed and Owen didn’t respond, I turned my head. His eyes were still closed, his breathing had evened out. I waited a while longer to make sure he was truly asleep before I crossed the distance and gently touched his too short hair. Spiky now, sharp where it had once been soft, the ends made my fingers tingle.
I drew back, then found my own hay bale and just watched him breathe.
*
Owen came awake, and he didn’t know where he was.
What else was new? Lately, if he knew where he was that was cause for celebration.
He hadn’t been dreaming. Hadn’t heard loud noises and woken on the floor, or worse, in a corner or under the bed. He was in a barn, but not one he knew. The cow didn’t look familiar either, but most of them looked alike to him.
“Reggie,” he said, but the dog didn’t appear, and unease trickled over him. There was something about the dog he should remember.
Owen stood with a lurch, then nearly fell when his leg shouted with pain and gave out. He caught himself on the stall and sat again with a muted thud, as everything came back.
The dirt. The kid. The cell phone.
Click. Boom. Then screams.
It wasn’t until he’d woken in the hospital in Germany, and asked who else had been hurt, that he’d understood those screams had been his. He rubbed his leg where it throbbed.
“You’re awake.” Becca set a fresh bucket of warm, soapy water on the floor.
Had she seen him try to stand and nearly fall? As she didn’t stare at him with pity, disgust, or even curiosity, he thought not.
“How long was I out?”
“An hour?” She shrugged. “Little less? Maybe more? Time drags in the dead of night.”
She should try it walking around Afghanistan without a flashlight.
He needed more sleep. But these days, he had a hard time falling asleep and an even harder time waking up and remembering where he was.
Except tonight. Tonight he’d dropped off, slept without dreams, and while he had woken confused, he’d been less so than usual. He even remembered what they’d been talking about when he’d gone lights out.
“Why are all calves in Three Harbors born in the dark?”
She had her hands on her hips as she contemplated the back end of her patient. “Is this a riddle?”
“You’re the one who told me that before I fell asleep. Did you answer and I missed it?”
“I didn’t say they’re all born in the dark. Just that they never seem to need me to help unless it’s three A.M. We’ve got another hour, maybe two, before we’re done.”
“How do you know that? Something you learned in school? Something you’ve figured out since delivering a dozen or two?”
He leaned forward. He was fascinated with her.
He leaned back. Fascinated with what she did, he corrected himself. How she did it. Who wouldn’t be?
In the field he was responsible for Reggie, had taken a few courses so that he could detect if the dog was overheated, overstressed. He’d also had to learn what to do for both—lots of water, ice, keeping the footpads and the belly cool, there was a reason a hot dog would flop into a mud puddle—as well as minor cuts, abrasions, stomach issues, and the like.
“I’ve yet to attend a calving that didn’t take place in the dead of night. I’ve yet to deliver a calf at any of them before dawn.” She spread her hands. “Which at this time of the year is … six-thirty?”
“I’ll take your word on that.”
“That the calf won’t be born until dawn, or that dawn is around six-thirty?”
“Yes,” he said, and she laughed.