Page 23 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
“Boss?” The older one says, without an ounce of irritation over calling a younger man by that title. “I think he’s checking in at the calving barn.”
The younger one nods after tossing another bag in the truck bed.
I look back to the barn by the main house I passed on my way over to them. “Calving barn?”
With a final grunt, the third guy loads the last bag. “Yeah, we had to move one of the pregnant cows in there early this morning.” He pushes his work glove up and glances at his watch. “Might’ve already given birth by now.” He gestures to the four-wheeler next to the truck. “Want me to give you a lift?”
I’m not much for babies and cutesy stuff, but the prospect of seeing a baby cow is kind of appealing. “Lead the way.”
* * *
Baby cows are not appealing.
They are gross. And wet with stuff that is not water.
Turns out the cowhadn’tfinished giving birth before we got there. By the time Bill, the ranch hand who’d given me a lift, and I arrived, we walked into some very alien looking shit.
Seriously, I’m not even sure Sigourney Weaver could’ve handled what I saw.
“Mother did great.” Holt rubs the mother cow between her large brown eyes, eyes that look way too calm for what she just did.
Bill leans over the railing of the stall, looking down into the freshly spread straw. “Calf’s strong too.” The youngster in question bows low and rubs its head over the straw like a dog scratching itself. But instead of getting clean of alien goo, the straw sticks all over the calf’s head, making it look like an amniotic porcupine.
Both Holt and Ray are smiling.
Cowboys are so weird.
“Uh, so, it’s past oh-eight-hundred.”
Both men look up at me tapping my smart watch, startled out of their little happy bubble they had going over a cow birth.
Bill looks at his own watch again. “Yep. Eight forty-five to be exact, ma’am.”
Rose says I shouldn’t purse my lips as it causes premature wrinkles. I try and remember that now. “Don’t call me ma’am, Bill. Jules. I’m Jules.”
Bill blinks. “Yes ma’a—I mean Jules.”
I nod and turn back to Holt. “You’re late for our wedding talk.”
Bill chokes on air.
After a minute of me pounding his back, Bill waves me away. “Sorry, sorry. I’m good now.” He glances between Holt and me. “But I think maybe I should get going.” He lifts a radio from his back pocket and jiggles it. “Radio me if you need a lift back.”
Still wheezing a bit, Bill high-tails it out of the barn.
Holt’s frowning at me. So… the usual.
I frown back. “Wedding.”
“Yes, I know.”
“What do you know?” I can feel the wrinkles forming.
“That we need to plan a wedding.”
There go my flaring nostrils. “Yeah, cowboy. In, like, two months.”
Silence.
