Page 17 of One Heated Summer

I made my way to the bunkhouse kitchen where the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted in the air and poured myself a cup. I then helped myself to bacon, sausage, hash brown, beans and a couple of biscuits that were warming on top of the stove before heading back outside to join the men who were already gathered around the wooden table on the porch, discussing the day's chores while they ate.

"Morning, boys," I greeted them, taking a seat. I took a sip of coffee, savoring the earthy bitterness as it fueled me for the tasks ahead and then dug into the food.

"Morning, boss," replied Briggs. "We've got a busy day ahead. The fences will need checking after last night's storm, and the cattle need moving to the western pasture."

I nodded thoughtfully, "Right. Tru, you take care of the fences with Virginia after mucking out. Briggs, take charge of the cattle drive with Sunny and Max. I’m going to ride over the spread and check for any damage or injured cattle. Let's make sure everything is done efficiently—we don't want to lose any more time or livestock."

The men nodded in agreement and began to strategize their approach. I listened intently, trusting in their ability to manage what needed to be done. With the exception of Virginia, who had been hired on six months earlier, the men had been with the ranch for years and knew the place as well as I did. A couple, like Briggs and Max, knew it even better and I appreciated their dedication to the ranch’s wellbeing.

I finished eating, gulped down my coffee, then stood. "Alright, let's get to it. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover today." With a collective sense of determination, we dispersed, ready to tackle our respective duties.

As I headed back up to the house to drag Sheba from slumber, I couldn’t help but think of Harlyn and being with her at the end of the day.

I loved riding over my ranch and watching Sheba run ahead, snapping at the heels of lone cattle that had separated from the rest of the herd. The vast expanse of land stretched out before me, a tapestry of dusty fields and rolling hills, offering a sense of peace and belonging that I cherished deeply. As the sun climbedhigher in the sky, Sheba and I worked tirelessly, rounding up stray cattle and guiding them back to the herd while I checked for any in distress and damage to troughs and feeders.

Sheba, lazy as she could be, loved running free. Her loyalty and my commands created a seamless partnership that made working the ranch extremely rewarding. Every so often, I would pause, tipping my hat to wipe the sweat from my brow and take in the breathtaking view that never ceased to fill me with awe. The land was part of me, embedded in my heart, and the love I had for the place ran through every cell of my body.

As I rode, my thoughts drifted to Harlyn. I envisioned her smile, the way her eyes sparkled with curiosity and passion, and how her presence seemed to make everything brighter.

“Sheebs, come on girl, let’s head up for something to eat.”

The dog didn’t respond which was not like her and I instantly went on alert. She looked back from where she lay at the edge of a deep crack in the earth, whining for my attention. Something was very wrong. I dismounted, trusting Jackie not to wander off—she was a well behaved filly, and paced to where Sheba now sat with her gaze fixed on me.

When I reached her, I patted her head and peered down into the crack. A calf, only a matter of hours old, lay about four feet down. And it wasn’t moving.

“Fuck a duck,” I snarled., before turning my attention to the dog. “Sheebs, stay.”

Sheba immediately dropped to her belly and I felt her eyes on me as I climbed down into the crack. I wriggled in the narrow space until I was in a position to check on the baby. It’s chest rose and fell, indicating it was breathing. Running my eyes over the body, I was unable to see any injuries but if it had fallen, it was highly likely there was damage of some kind.

I stood, dragged my cell phone from a pocket and dialed Briggs. Hopefully he would have shifted the herd and still be near the western fence.

“Briggs, we have a calf trapped in a crack about half a mile north of the western fence. It’s only a few hours old from the looks of it. Get the pickup and chains.”

“I’m almost back at the house, be there in ten.”

The line went dead, I pushed the phone back in my pocket and crouched to further check on the calf. Its breathing was shallow but steady and when I ran a hand over its hide, the eyes flickered open and the baby gave me a soulful bleat.

“It’s okay, baby. Help is on the way.”

I continued feeling for injuries while murmuring nonsensical words to soothe and reassure. Minutes later, the rumbling of a pickup coming closer had me standing. As Briggs neared, I hefted myself from the crack and met him when he climbed from the truck.

“Is it alive?” Briggs asked, going to the bed of the pickup and pulling out a cloth sling and chains.

“It’s breathing and from what I can feel, it’s not injured too bad.”

“Mama?”

I glanced around the immediate area but there was no sign of a distressed mother. “No idea. She has either been rejected or mama wandered away during last night’s storm.”

Briggs leaned over the crack and shook his head. “Not enough room to maneuver and lift her out, it’ll be easier to use the sling and less trauma for her.” Briggs connected the chains to the canvas sling and then to a hook on the front of the pickup.

“We’ll get the baby out and while you take her back to the barn, I’ll scout for mama.”

Sheba watched me with eyes like a hawk when I jumped back down to the baby and fitted the sling. Once I’d climbed back out, Briggs started the motor on the winch and slowly the calf was brought to the surface. After removing the sling we manhandled all seventy or so pounds of the tiny beast into the pickup and I stood watching Briggs drive away…With the calf and Sheba who was obviously concerned about her new friend.

I mounted up and set off in search of the calf’s mother and while I did, an idea began forming.

After a couple of hours, I decided it was highly unlikely the mother would be found and I headed back home. I needed to take the calf to be checked out by Doc. Henderson, the vet in town.

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