Milk Maid in Heaven

by Samantha Jillian Bayarr

  I know that voice. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it belongs to—Mitch Rutherford! What could he possibly be doing here at this time of night—and in the house, no less?

  Emily marched down the hall to her father’s room, determined to get her answer. When she reached the door, it was slightly ajar and Emily decided to wait for a pause in the conversation before knocking.

  “Mitch, I wish you would reconsider my offer,” Emily heard her father say.

  I was right. What a snake in the grass; bothering my daddy when he is so ill.

  “Running this dairy is a generous offer, Ethan. But I’ve had my heart set on finishing college ever since I landed myself in prison. Besides, don’t you want your daughter to be in charge?” Mitch took off his wide-brim, brown, felt hat and ran a hand through his thick, brown hair.

  “You’ve been like a son to me, you know that, Mitch. I only want you to be happy, but I truly think this is an opportunity of a lifetime and it would be a shame if you passed it by. Now, as far as Emily is concerned, I’m not sure she wants the responsibility and I trust you to keep it running properly.”

  Ethan propped himself up on his pillows.

  “I’ll give it some more thought if it means that much to you,” Mitch said.

  “Thanks, Son.”

  Mitch looked at Ethan, but opted not to comment on his statement.

  Son! Why does he keep calling him his son? I’m an only child, and that man is no brother to me.

  Emily wanted to rush into the room and yell at her father, and escort Mitch out of the house.

  Unable to distinguish her confusing thoughts, Emily decided she’d heard enough and knocked lightly on the door, pushing it open slightly. Ethan beckoned her in the room, where Mitch sat in a chair at his bedside. Emily eyed Mitch as she walked around him and sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side.

  “Emily. I’d like to formally introduce the two of you. This is Mitch. He’s the supervisor over all the inmates,” Ethan said. “Mitch, this is my daughter, Emily.”

  The key word here being inmates, Daddy. Let’s not forget that.

  Emily forced a smile and Mitch nodded in Emily’s direction, though he didn’t utter a word.

  “I hope we didn’t wake you, Em,” Ethan said softly.

  Emily pushed a few unruly curls from her face and yawned. “It’s okay daddy. I shouldn’t have slept so long. I have a lot to tend to.”

  Mitch stood up, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the situation. “I think I better go, Ethan. I’ll check in with you before I leave in the morning—that is, if you’ll be up.”

  “Of course I’ll be up. Just give me a ring on my bedside phone here.” Ethan pointed to the phone on the antique table. “I’ll want to hear how the night went. And thanks Mitch.”

  “Glad I could help. Get some rest, Ethan. I’ll talk to you first thing in the morning.”

  Mitch tipped his hat toward Emily. “Goodnight, Miss.”

  Emily nodded, but held her tongue for the sake of her father, for this man she thought to be nothing short of a swindler. She determined then that Mitch would not get his grubby hands on her father’s dairy farm—no matter how much of a charmer he was.

  “I’ll be right back, Daddy.” Emily left the room with the intention of talking to Mitch. She caught up to him at the kitchen door.

  “Excuse me.”

  Mitch turned around, his eyes carefree. “Do you need something, Miss?”

  “I’ll say I need something.” Emily moved forward, hands on her hips. “You think you’re so smooth coming in here and trying to take my father’s company when he’s ill. You have some nerve.”

  “I don’t want your father’s company—you’re his daughter, that’s your responsibility. I don’t even want the job he’s offering me, but he’s my friend and I don’t want to hurt his feelings by declining his generosity. He’s been good to me these past years and I’d never take advantage of him. I pray every day that he gets well enough to handle all of this on his own soon.” Mitch tipped his hat and left the house.

  Emily couldn’t move for several minutes. His words stung. They dangled in front of her, tormenting and convicting.

  Had she really been so curt with him?

  ****

  Once inside the barn, Mitch checked the valve settings of the machinery, then, made certain the feeders were bringing in wheelbarrows full of silage to the hungry cows. Mitch could not keep his mind on his work, however, for he was pre-occupied with thoughts of Emily. Though they had argued, he could not erase from his mind the way her blue-green eyes flickered with passion, or the way her fiery red curls fell along her porcelain face. The last thing he wanted was to make an enemy of her. And he certainly didn’t want her thinking he was trying to swindle her father out of his business. Ethan was his friend, and he needed to prove that to her.

  Mitch leaned an elbow against his favorite cow, stroking her neck affectionately. The yellow branding tags on her ears gave her the number 118, but Mitch always referred to her as Ellie. The black and white Holstein shook her head with approval over Mitch’s attention. Though they were simple animals, not ordinarily thought of fondly, he felt the cows had personality and he enjoyed working with them.

  ****

  Emily entered the milking parlor and immediately spotted Mitch halfway down the hall petting a cow she had heard him refer to as Ellie. She walked closer, looking into each individual stall before coming upon the spot where Mitch was standing. Emily held a hand in front of her mouth, trying to cover her amusement over the sheepish grin that lay across his lips. Upon closer observance, she noticed the dimples in his cheeks deepen as he smiled at her, but she quickly looked away, feeling ashamed that she had allowed herself to be momentarily taken in by his boyish charm.

  “Did you need something, Miss Emily?”

  Emily’s face turned hot as she spoke in a timid voice.

  “No—thank you. I came out here to check on things.”

  Mitch looked down at his tall rubber boots that were covered with manure. “Could you call for the barns-men over the intercom to come up here and take care of this floor, they’re probably helping the feeders bring in the silage. I didn’t want to go into the office with my boots like this, or I’d do it myself. Besides, I need to stand by to run the water through these lines, since this milking is nearly finished. ”

  She started to walk away, but looked nervously over her shoulder.

  Mitch caught her eye. “Are you okay, Miss?”

  “Yes. I am. I just wanted to tell you that I may have misjudged you. I’m sorry.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time. But the situation I’m in doesn’t exactly scream with credibility.”

  She admired his humble admission, searching his eyes for even a hint of deception, but couldn’t find any. She broke away from his deep blue eyes and turned on her heel, and moved toward the office.

  “Watch where you step, miss,” Mitch said, still smiling.

  Emily turned back again. “Thank you. If you need anything else—I’ll be in the office.”

  Mitch grinned wider and nodded, thinking she was all he needed.

  ****

  At break time, Mitch went out the east doors of the milking parlor and headed toward the field at the edge of the lamp light to where the small herd of deer would gather at night—his deer, he felt. His boundaries were within the edge of the light from the floodlights and he knew that to venture any further would cause Martha to have to retrieve him. Martha would often keep Henry and the other guard busy while giving Mitch the liberty of wandering out far enough to feed the deer. Occasionally, Martha would sit with him while he fed the deer apples and carrots that she would bring from home. The two would talk about his life and some of the sad times of his childhood. Very rarely would she talk about her own life, but he felt closer to her than he remembered being to his own mother.

  Tonight, Mitch was alone. He looked out over the pasture at the few remaining patches of snow tha
t still lay undisturbed in the knee-high, brown grasses that filled the field. The wind pushed at the grass, sending a scraping, crackling sound to Mitch’s ears. He sat on the oversized rock at the edge of the field and pulled the flap of his collar up around his neck to shield him against the wind. He shivered, wondering if his few moments of solitude were worth freezing for. But when the deer approached, he held out an apple and a small amount of grain that Martha had allowed him to put in the pocket of his jacket, and knew it was definitely worth it. One of the light brown animals—a small female—ventured closer than usual. Mitch held his hand out as far from his body as his arm would stretch and the deer walked timidly toward him, eating cautiously from his hand. In the light, Mitch could see more clearly the speckles of white in her fur and the white fluff to her short tail. With his free hand, he reached around slowly and placed it on the side of the deer, petting her softly. This brought to his mind thoughts of his horse, Spitfire, whom he dearly missed. When he was a young boy, he felt nothing could stop him when he rode Spitfire—even the wind would rush by him. Now in a state of confinement, he realized that there was never a time when he felt freer than when he rode his horse. Mitch had admired Ethan’s horse, Red Thunder, and often wished he could ride him. He sadly knew that because he was a prisoner, petting and feeding the horse would be as close as he would ever get to the champion thoroughbred.

  ****

  In the morning when Mitch called the house, Ethan requested he meet him in the barn that was adjacent to the main house—the one containing the non-commercial stock. When Martha returned with the day-shift prisoners, she would make an extra trip to return him to the prison—after his talk with Ethan.

  Emily assisted her father to the barn. “I’ll leave you two gentlemen to talk.”

  “Thanks Em,” Ethan said.

  Mitch remained silent out of fear that his attraction to her would become apparent—he found it difficult to think clearly in her presence. Their eyes locked, and for a fleeting moment he wanted to touch the soft, red curls that fell along her prominent cheekbone. Instead, he managed a weak smile before she exited the barn.

  Emily walked away, thinking that Mitch was beginning to grow on her.

  “You look well,” Mitch said, turning his attention to Ethan.

  Ethan put his arm around Mitch’s shoulder.

  “Thanks son, but I’m getting too old for a young man like you to try humoring me.”

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect, Sir,” Mitch said, clearing his throat.

  “I know you didn’t, Mitch. You’re a good young man.”

  They walked toward the horse stalls and Mitch stopped directly in front of Red Thunder.

  Ethan reached up a hand and stroked the eager horses’ neck. “Come on, Mitch. We’ve been friends for a long time. Why are you suddenly being formal with me? Is there something weighing on your mind?”

  Mitch lifted an apple from his coat pocket and fed it to Red Thunder. “I was thinking about my horse, Spitfire, last night while I was working.”

  “Where’s the horse now?”

  Mitch kicked at some loose straw under foot. “My father sold him and the others to pay back taxes on his property.”

  “Did you ever get another horse?”

  “No. After my mother left when I was fourteen, he began to drink more heavily and before long, he’d lost his job and had to sell most everything in order to pay off his debts. From then on until the day I left, no animal was housed in that barn—except stray cats.”

  Mitch could feel Ethan’s eyes upon him as he suppressed the lump that formed in his throat from thinking of his father who hadn’t written to him in the three years he’d spent in prison. He deepened his focus on Red Thunder.

  “You know, Mitch, I’ve seen the way you favor Red Thunder and the way you handle the animals on this farm. I have to admit I think you handle them better than their trainers sometimes. You’ve got some sort of gift with the animals.”

  “Thanks, Ethan.”

  “You know, Son. I’d like it if you’d exercise Red Thunder for me a few times a week while I’m out of commission. What do you say? Would it be too much, considering your heavy workload?”

  Mitch felt as though his heart skipped a beat.

  “Are you talking about riding him?”

  “Yes, of course. I’m aware that you’ll have to remain on the grounds in the gated area, but that’s plenty of territory to cover with him.”

  Mitch was so excited he felt like he could hardly breathe. “When would you like me to start?”

  “Right away—today, if you’d like. I’ve taken the liberty of talking with the warden regarding the permanent position I offered you and explained to him that more time was needed for training. I’ve asked that he switch you to day shift if that’s all right with you. I’ll even appoint you the position of day-shift herdsman until your training is completed.”

  Mitch wrung his hands nervously. “But Sir, I have less than two months before my sentence is served—maybe it would be better if I didn’t switch this close to the end—it might cause some problems with the other prisoners.”

  “I trust you to make the right decision on this matter, but you must know how much confidence I have in you. I wouldn’t offer this opportunity to you if I didn’t think you could handle it.”

  Mitch ran his hand through his hair. “That’s a big responsibility.”

  “Yes it is.” Ethan nodded. “But at the risk of repeating myself, I think you can handle it. I’ve observed you closely over the past three years, and I have to say that I admire how well you’ve applied yourself. Why do you think I made you the supervisor after your first three months here?”

  Mitch was nearly beside himself with this sudden turn of events. “You’re a good friend for saying those things. It really means a lot to me that you have that much confidence in me. I accept your offer to work with Red Thunder, but remember, Ethan, I haven’t agreed to accept the permanent position yet.”

  Ethan chuckled, patting Mitch on the back.

  “You will.”

  ****

  The following morning, Mitch was up at the time he would normally still be at work. He wondered how his first day on the new shift would turn out. He’d worked many double shifts, but working days would take some getting used to.

  When it was time to leave, Mitch felt strange—as though he were forgetting something. He shrugged it off as jitters about how the others would handle his new position. Being the odd man, he lacked a riding partner for the bus ride, which angered the other prisoners right from the start. Once they were seated on the “green beast”—their nickname for the transport bus, Al Winthrop, the day-shift guard mandated their attention.

  “Listen up, prisoners. You all know Mitch. He’s the new day-shift herdsman. He’s also training to be the supervisor when he leaves us in a few weeks.”

  The bus suddenly filled with loud grumbles from the inmates and Mitch felt uncomfortable.

  Al held up a warning hand to them. “Settle down, prisoners. If any of you don’t want to work under this man’s authority, let me know now and I’ll escort you off the bus and back to your cell. Mitch has worked enough double shifts that you know he pulls his own weight. Him being the supervisor won’t change any of that, I assure you.”

  The bus was suddenly quiet with the sort of deafening silence that made Mitch tremble. He waited for someone to respond negatively, but instead, a low murmuring grumble sounded when the bus left the prison gate and continued the length of the ride to the dairy.

  ****

  Emily was waiting for Mitch in the office when he arrived and summoned him inside with a wave of her hand. Mitch spotted her through the window and went in to greet her. He was happy to see her.

  “How are you this morning, Miss?”

  “I’m exhausted. I’m afraid my father isn’t doing very well. He’s resting now, but he was awake most of the night.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help, Miss?”
>
  “Please—call me Emily. It looks as though we are going to be working together for a while. May I call you Mitch?”

  Mitch cleared his throat. Of course she could.

  “Yes. It might be nice if we didn’t have to be so formal. Most of us are on a first name basis and I think it eases the tension in the workplace a little.”

  “I’m all for keeping the tension level low. I have enough to deal with concerning my father’s health. He had another rough night, but he has a little more color today. He asked that you check in with him after your morning ride.”

  Mitch shifted on his feet nervously. He was concerned about Ethan, but his thoughts were muddled in Emily’s company. “Of course I will.”

  Emily managed a weak smile.

  “Well, if we’re going to get anything accomplished today, we should get you acquainted with the schedule that my father asked me to put together for you.”

  Mitch looked at the schedule before him while Emily twisted her hair nervously around her finger. She wasn’t certain if her nervousness was due to being so close to Mitch, or the fact that they were alone in the office together. She knew she wasn’t afraid of him—he was strangely appealing to her.

  Mitch looked up at Emily, interrupting her thoughts.

  “This schedule calls for giving injections. Is someone going to instruct me on that?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Emily said, still twisting her hair. “The veterinarian will be here this afternoon to show you. My father usually takes care of these things, or I would show you. By the way, he asked that you exercise his horse at first light.”

  “I better get to helping the guys, or things might get ugly around here. They’re expecting me to pull my full share of the weight. I don’t intend to let them or your father down.”