Daring Hearts: Fearless Fourteen Boxed Set

by Box Set

  She stared back at me as if I’d sprouted a second head.

  “Anyway, palpation is really better than blood tests,” I continued without breaking my milking rhythm. “It’s easy once you get the hang of it. The organs are all right there together, and anyone, regardless of size, can palpate a dairy cow.”

  My voice sounded like the old doctor’s as I supplied that extra bit of knowledge, and I had to swallow the tightness in my throat. Dr. Green had always treated our times together like he was a professor, and I was his veterinary student in training. Now I didn’t even know where he was.

  Cato didn’t speak. Instead she pulled out a stool and began poking at her cow’s udders. I’d just finished up, and I sat watching as she leaned forward and grabbed a teat. Then she started squeezing it like it was a water balloon.

  “You’re not going to get a thing that way,” I said, standing and going to her. “Here.”

  I put my hand over hers. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but her hands were warm just like mine. Seeing both our hands together, I couldn’t tell that she was in any way different from me, that she was a non-human or whatever.

  “Feel the movement?” I asked.

  She studied my method and soon her cow was letting down.

  “I’m doing it!”

  I straightened up and backed away letting her take over. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to this display of pride, but it looked definitely human to me. Aliens, my butt. It was very much like her reunion with her brother, and the conversation I’d just overheard. I was anxious to get back to my bunk and replay that one in my mind. What was he doing in the woods? And why was he in the desert? Whatever the reason, he sure wanted to go back there.

  “I’ll get to work on the other one,” I said.

  “Wait,” she called. “Do you mind if I call you Prentiss?”

  I glanced back and shook my head.

  “Thank you, Prentiss. You’re not like the others. I appreciate your teaching me and letting me help you.”

  What was I supposed to say to that? I didn’t ask to be here, and I was pretty sure I didn’t have a choice when it came to what I was going to do or what she as going to do. Still, she sat there looking at me with those raindrop-blue eyes as if I’d just given her some precious gift. The gift of working like a farm hand.

  I nodded and quietly milked the third cow. Then I joined her at the second churn.

  “I’ll take care of the rest,” she said. “You can return to your quarters and prepare for sleep.”

  “Thanks,” I said, handing her my bucket.

  How much longer would this go on? And why was she acting like she was just as stuck as I was? None of it made sense. I had to get answers.

  Chapter 9

  The next day we got a holiday. I didn’t know if it was Sunday or how many days had passed since I’d opened my eyes in this place, but it felt like maybe ten. The alarms didn’t sound to wake us, and at what felt like nine, a voice came across the tinny amplifier letting us know we would be eating as a group today, after which we would be allowed free time.

  I sat up and pulled on my coveralls, and as I did, I noticed my brother still on his cot in the back corner staring at the floor in the same vacant way as Flora had done in the cafeteria. I felt a pang of guilt. I’d been avoiding him more and more, but whether I wanted to hear what he said or not, he was still my brother. I couldn’t let him go down without a fight.

  “How you doing?” I asked once we’d taken a seat in the yard after breakfast.

  He shook his head and looked down. I pulled a long stalk of grass and began chewing the end of it. My afternoon time was cut short now because of the extra milking I had to do. Cows didn’t stop making milk just because humans got a break.

  “You seem a little different today,” I said. “Feeling all right?”

  His dark eyes moved to the toes of his boots then out in front of him, to the tree before us, to the branches and limbs, and finally to the sky overhead.

  “It’s all vanity. Just like the preacher said.”

  My brow wrinkled. Braxton was prone to launch into Bible quoting at any given moment, and I recognized this one from Ecclesiastes.

  “You know, I always thought that guy was just depressed,” I said. “And maybe a little crazy. Didn’t he have like a thousand wives?”

  Braxton sighed and returned his gaze to his lap. “You did listen every once in a while.”

  “Oh, I always listened. I just didn’t always agree with what I heard.”

  “None of it matters now. It’s all meaningless just like that king said. Wicked or just, foolish or wise, we all suffer the same fate.”

  I took the grass from my mouth and held it in my lap a moment. “Why are you having these thoughts now?”

  He took a deep breath and pulled his knees up, placing his forehead on the back of his hands.

  “I dedicated my life to God and to preaching. Everybody said I was crazy laying hands on sick people and talking in tongues.”

  I nodded. I was one of those.

  “Now I see they were right. It was crazy. All that stuff I was doing was meaningless, and there is no God.”

  I squinted over at him. “That’s kind of a big leap you’re making there. And isn’t that what the fool’s supposed to have said?”

  His head snapped up. “Don’t you get it? There is no fool! There is no God! It’s all a lie. All those people were right. They just didn’t know why they were right.”

  I was almost afraid to ask. “So why were they right?”

  “Because we’ve been invaded by aliens, Prentiss. Aliens. If there’s aliens coming here, that means science wins. The Bible’s a myth, and all those stories we believed were just that. Stories. There was no flood, there was no parting of the Red Sea, there was no ‘In the beginning.’ Everything we’ve been taught is a lie.”

  I pulled my knees up and clasped my hands on top of them. Then I took a deep breath and rested my chin on them. This wasn’t my area of expertise, and the last thing I knew how to do was counsel my holy-roller brother who was now having a crisis of faith. I didn’t know what to say, but somehow, deep inside, his words rang false to me. I looked up and saw someone signaling to me from the barn door.

  “I got to go milk,” I said, standing and dusting off my bottom. “But I think you’re wrong, brother. I mean, not that I’m believing this alien crap. But say there were aliens. Just for a minute. That doesn’t automatically mean there’s no God.”

  “Then where’s heaven?”

  Standing in front of him looking down, I rubbed my stomach. I’d never really spent a lot of time thinking about stuff like this, and I wasn’t too comfortable starting to think about it now. It was easier for me to believe the Bible stories, look at the picture of that placid, blond Jesus on the Sunday school wall, and say my prayers. Done.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But I never did think it was out in space. I thought it was a place you went in your spirit. And isn’t your spirit invisible?”

  He put his forehead back on his knees. “It’s all vanity. Meaningless and chasing after the wind.”

  The person at the barn signaled again, and I knew I had to end this scriptural debate, or whatever we were having.

  “Just stop thinking about everything so hard,” I said. “You always think about stuff too much. That’s what drives you crazy. Find something else to do.”

  My words felt harsh to me as I said them, especially with him sitting there under the tree, his head on his knees. But I didn’t know what else to say. Braxton was older than me by five years, and he’d spent way more time studying the Bible and arguing with folks about it than I had. I wasn’t smart that way. I was better at explaining things I could see and feel. Like wire fences and electrified chips and escape plans.

  * * *

  Gallatin was already positioned in front of a cow when I reached the barn. On my way to the storage closet, I noticed the hole he’d kicked last night now had a fres
h, new board nailed over it. I grabbed another bucket and stool, thinking how I had to make friends, get to know him better. Now that we were here together in the quiet barn, after that weird conversation with my brother and his conversation with his sister, I couldn’t think of how to begin.

  “Were you late to be sure I kept my promise?” he asked as I took my seat.

  “I’m sorry I was late,” I said, gripping a teat.

  My cow bellowed as I massaged her tight, heavy udders. Since we’d upped the milking to accommodate the three missing heifers, they got full fast, and patience was not a cow virtue. She let down rapidly, and I worked in silence until her teats were again soft and doughy. Then I took the heavy pail to the waiting churn. Gallatin was already there pumping.

  “I wasn’t reprimanding you for being late,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise.”

  “I didn’t know it was a promise.” My eyes flicked to his amber ones, but when they met, I looked away again quickly. His eyes always startled me at first. Like Cato’s, they seemed pale from a distance, but up close, they were a clear caramel color that was almost yellow. Occasionally, I could almost swear they reflected the light, but that was impossible.

  “I gave you my word, which is the equivalent,” he said.

  His paddle softly thumped against the sides of the wooden churn, and I couldn’t tell him I knew why he was absent last night. Instead, I pondered his strange appearance, his formal manner of speaking.

  If Cato was his sister that would make him a prince or something, which meant he’d probably gone to one of those fancy private schools. I also considered how he worked with me, very expert-like as if he knew what he was doing. He didn’t need any training in the barn, but his sister was as green as a baby around livestock.

  “How come you know so much about cows?” I asked.

  “I don’t really,” he said. “Which is what’s frustrating to my sister.”

  “You seem to be doing all right to me.”

  “Thank you. Others would say I should be doing more. Or at least I should know more.”

  “How come? I mean, did you work with a vet or something, too?”

  He glanced at me. “That’s right. How long did you work with the veterinarian?”

  “About a year. But just after school and stuff.”

  “I was in college in Arizona studying agriculture and livestock practices.”

  That explained the desert part. “What’s livestock practices?” I asked.

  “I took classes on how to run and operate a dairy farm. Eventually we were to take practical courses, get hands-on experience. But we hadn’t made it that far.”

  “How long were you in Arizona?”

  “Only a year.”

  I nodded. “So you’re about nineteen?”

  “About that.”

  Our eyes met and my stomach clenched again. But he smiled, and I bit my cheek, hiding my fear with a return smile. We had to become friends, I reminded myself. I lifted the lid on my churn and saw the ball of butter floating on top.

  “Well, you know how to do this stuff pretty good,” I said. “For having no hands-on experience, I mean.”

  “Thank you. But there are problems—this one, for example—that you have more knowledge of how to fix. And there might be more before we’re able to leave.”

  Able to leave? My heart beat faster, but I told myself to keep calm, take it slow.

  “Like what?”

  He stopped working and stared at me several moments before speaking again. “Come. Let me show you something.”

  I tried to control my breathing, the trembling in my legs, as I followed him to the back of the barn. I couldn’t imagine what he was about to show me, and all I could think of were chips and aliens.

  We rounded the corner and passed through a narrow door I hadn’t noticed before into a long, narrow stall that was separated from the rest of the barn by a wall. Inside, a reddish-brown Jersey cow with two tiny white horns was leaning against the far end, her stomach huge and protruding.

  “We don’t know why she’s like this,” he said. “I’m afraid she’s diseased, but I don’t have the proper tools to draw blood and test it.”

  I went over to the Jersey girl and caught her by the nose. Then I ran my hand down her side. As I reached the bottom of her belly, she let out a pained groan.

  “Easy, Bessie,” I whispered. I got down on my knees and kneaded with my fingers along the back and sides of her swollen underside.

  “She’s not diseased. She’s about to have a calf.”

  Gallatin’s face smoothed and I heard him exhale. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Why would you? But this is good. It solves the problem we were having with the milk. We can return one of those cows to the line and ease off the other three.”

  “I’ll tell Cato first thing.”

  I leaned over and ran my hands along her stomach again.

  “Can you tell how much longer she has?” he asked, watching me.

  “Not much. I can feel the legs going up here to her anus. And just about everything’s palpable on the little guy.” I kneaded her side, noting the calf’s bent hind legs. “She’ll probably start trying to get him out in the next day or so.”

  “How will we know?”

  “We’ll have to check on her. A lot. And when it starts, somebody’s got to stay with her. She might need help.”

  “I can help you with that. Yes?”

  My worried eyes went to his, and I felt a little less fear. “This is where you learn my limits. Dr. Green always sent me out of the stalls for that part.”

  “But you watched?”

  “Once.” I bit my lip and looked at the pregnant cow. “From where I stood it looked a lot like staying out of the way, pulling if necessary, and trying not to get crushed. Or gored.”

  We both noted the small horns on the 500-pound beast leaning against the wall.

  “We can do it,” Gallatin said. “I’ll protect you.”

  I wasn’t confident he knew what he was in for, but I nodded anyway. We didn’t have another choice.

  * * *

  The next morning at chores, Gallatin signaled for me to follow him to the back stall. I went, fear growing with every step, but this time it wasn’t about him. I’d never delivered a calf, and I had no idea what might happen—neither did my new assistant. When we rounded the corner, the cow had moved to the other side of her stall. I didn’t see anything yet, but I could tell she was working hard today.

  “I’m not sure, but it might be time,” he whispered, going to her and copying my actions from the day before.

  As his hand stroked down her distended abdomen, the cow seemed to respond, to relax. I walked over and did the same, and I felt the spasms of her muscles. They were all working around the calf inside her.

  “Yep. It’s time.”

  “Then I guess that means we’re staying here?”

  “Might as well,” I said.

  He stepped up on the wooden stall and swung a leg over the side. I straightened up and went to lean against the opposite wall, facing him. We stayed that way for a few moments listening to the labored breathing of the cow getting ready to push. The sound made my stomach tighten. I was about to do something I had no idea how to handle. A bit like trying to get this scarred fellow with the strange eyes to be my friend.

  “I don’t understand,” he said after a few moments of silence. “What kind of livestock vet hires someone like you as his assistant?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He jumped down and stood before me, hands up. “That came out wrong. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “So what did you mean?”

  “Just, it seems a dangerous choice.”

  “Farm animals aren’t dangerous. Well, except for bulls, but they’ll get after anybody. Being little probably helps me with them.”

  “Still. They’re all so large and heavy, and you’re so very small. Wouldn
’t you worry one might kill you?”

  My shoulders relaxed as I considered his question. Truthfully, before I’d started working with Dr. Green, I’d been very afraid of cows. But after Jackson said I was too little to do it, my fear transformed into determination to prove him wrong. That was pretty much how it always went with us. Him saying I couldn’t do something, me proving I could.

  “Dr. Green was good about knowing when to get me out of harm’s way. I never felt afraid with him.”

  “I’ve known people like that.”

  At that moment, the cow started walking slowly in the stall. She struggled and groaned, and Gallatin and I exchanged worried looks.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, stepping back to give her room. “I think she’s just getting ready.”

  “Should we prepare somehow?”

  “Your sister said she’d read something about milking. Do you have any books about livestock here?”

  “No. That was all before I arrived.”

  It was the perfect opening, and everything in me wanted to question him further. Where did they come from? Why would invaders be studying livestock practices of all things? But I had to wait. We didn’t have time. Our patient let out a strangled bellow.

  “Nevermind,” I said. “Get some big towels, warm and damp if you can. I’m pretty sure there won’t be a cord to cut or anything. And I remember she’ll lick him clean and eat the afterbirth. But we definitely need towels. It’s messy.”

  Gallatin nodded and took off toward the main building. I backed around the stall, trying to stay clear as the cow swung her horned head back and forth.

  “Easy, girl,” I whispered. “We’re gonna help you out.”

  I watched her huge, golden-brown body ease to the ground rear-first, and just when it touched, two little white hooves popped out under her tail. At that moment she became quiet. The air grew tense, and I could barely breathe as I watched her body convulse. All my muscles were straining with her until at last, a little black nose joined the hooves. Its tongue lolled out on the side, and I could see its nostrils clear the birth canal. I stood taut in the silence. Gallatin was nowhere to be seen. A bead of sweat rolled down the center of my back as the cow stood again and tried to pace the long, narrow space. My legs started to shake. They were always my body’s first signal of fear. I was way too small to help her by myself, and I knew it. Heck, she might even know it.