Learning to Spy (5 page)

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.

* * *

G
allatin 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 fresh, 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.

* * *

T
he 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.

“Easy, Bessie,” I whispered, backing out of her way. I chewed my bottom lip. “Come on, Gallatin.”

She took a staggered step, and then eased her rear back down again. Nothing seemed to be moving. The hooves and nose were sticking out, so I knew the little guy was getting air, but nothing else happened. I remembered at some point Dr. Green started pulling. My eyes blinked rapidly as drops of sweat hung on my eyebrows, and I could hardly bear the sight of her straining body. She had to be in pain, but she was silent.

A welcome voice cut through the tension. “Sorry, I looked everywhere.”

“Gallatin!”

But when I jumped up, the room grew white. I felt light-headed, like the tension was winning and all the blood suddenly rushed to my feet.

“Prentiss! What—don’t do that!”

I felt strong hands grip my upper arms as he led me back to a stool. Then he braced my shoulders as I lowered my head between my knees. He slid my hair off the back of my neck and placed his palm against me like he was taking my temperature there. The swoon passed, and I was able to breathe again.

“Some vet you are,” he said as I leaned up again slowly.

Embarrassment crept under my skin, but he smiled in a friendly way that relaxed my defenses.

“I’ve never done that before,” I said, trying to stand. “It must be the stress or something.”

“It’s this suffocating heat,” he said, holding my arm. “It’s okay, just take your time. She’s calm for now, and I need you well enough to direct.”

I nodded, and he stepped back to survey me. “Let me get you some water.”

He opened the stall door and disappeared around the wall. I tried to get myself together and stop acting like a sissy. The tone sounded for lunch, and I looked back at the laboring cow. She was still breathing heavily, and her swollen hind quarters were pulsing as she tried to pass her calf’s head. Clear liquid was streaming out with the newborn, and he was coated in a clear film. I pushed myself up and walked back to her just as Gallatin returned with my water.

“Here, sip this.”

I took the plastic bottle and drank, then I knelt beside the heaving mamma. My body hurt watching her, and I placed my hand on her stomach. The nervous tension of watching her struggle was making me feel exhausted.

“What do you think?” he said.

“She seems stressed. I mean, of course she’s stressed. It’s just hard to know how much they can understand and can do on their own.”

He nodded. “They can’t tell us.”

Just then she tried to stand again, and we both jumped back against the wall. My back was pressed into Gallatin’s chest, and I realized our hands were clasped. She heaved, and her head swung near me.

“Oh, God.” My voice shook, and as it did, his fingers tightened around mine. 

Calm flooded me like diving into a pool of warm water. My brain cleared, and I was able to relax and think. I moved away from Gallatin and rounded the cow.

“It’s probably okay for her to walk around like that if she needs to, but stay away from her head. I don’t know what I’d use for stitches if one of us got gored.”

He nodded, and we waited, watching, until she lowered herself again with a groan. Silence again. Another bead of sweat trickled down my forehead and then my cheek before running down the side of my neck. It was so hot, and the calf was moving by fractions, and at times not at all. It was in limbo, half in this world and half out, and I didn’t know how long it could stay that way before it died.