Page 16 of Till The Cows Come Home
“I’d prefer you didn’t trespass, I mean. I’d like to arrange a more cordial agreement.”
Her chest deflated, the worry escaping along the air through her just barely parted lips.
“You scared me!”
“I think we can both agree, you deserved it.”
Her eyes rolled, but she didn’t even attempt to disagree.
“So what do you say? Can we do away with walking on eggshells all the time?”
“I’m not going to shower you in attention, if that’s what you’re requesting.”
“Sage Baker, believe me when I say, I would never demand your attention, but I think we could both benefit from some socialization. We both speak to the bovine community more than our actual community, and it would be nice to start acknowledging each other in the morning, instead of just the cows. You can tell me about Blossom’s progress, and if you’d like I can fill you in on what’s in the works here on the farm.”
There was a brief pause and I could see the wheels begin to turn inside her head. They must have churned to a conclusion, because after a moment Sage’s big blue eyes were looking right at me.
“Deal. But I meant what I said about the guard calf. Ifyou’re rude again she’ll kick your ass, most likely in the literal sense.”
“I’ll be sure to keep my behavior in check and my ass protected. We're already here, wanna start today?”
“Might as well rip off the bandaid,” she sighed. “Blossom is doing perfectly, because she is, well, perfect. She’s taking the bottle without issue and her growth is right on track…your turn.”
“You act like speaking to me pains you, and that hurts,” I said, gripping my chest.
I knew as soon as the words left my mouth that the blue of her eyes would again disappear, but the smirk that went along with them was what I craved. Sage made it known she wasn’t in the Miles fan club, yet she sat here everyday because her hatred of me wasn’t strong enough to overpower her love for them. If I could cause just a little bit of happiness to surface while I was around, perhaps that hate would reduce to the likes of something slightly milder.
“You’ve got about twenty seconds to get on with it before you bore me to sleep.”
“Alright sleeping beauty, as you’ve already noticed, the barn bathroom is going through a renovation. We’re expecting four more calves to be born this month. And I’ve been experimenting with yogurt.”
“Fuck yogurt.”
“Excuse me?”
“I tried to make yogurt as a last ditch effort to make money when we were going bankrupt and I could never get it right; it either turned green or looked like water. I’d almost perfected it, but then we sold the farm.”
“Fuck yogurt then. Any alternative recommendations?”
“I’ve always wanted to try aged cheeses. Mozzarella is easy and a staple, don't get me wrong, but sometimes a girl wants some sharp cheese to go along with crackers.”
I couldn’t stop the grin that spread from cheek to cheek.
“What?”
“Stay here.”
When you spend years alone with cows ostracizing yourself from the outside world you cycle through hobbies, one of which just so happened to stick with me. I’d never entered the root cellar so cheerily in my life. After scouring the shelves, trailing my fingers over my own chicken scratch, reading each label, I came upon what I was looking for.
Gotcha.
“Where did you go?” she asked as I returned. “And why do you have your hands behind your back? Did you change your mind? Am I going to be featured in an episode of cold cases?”
“Your ability to go with the flow is truly an art. If I suddenly decide to murder you I’ll let you know, okay? Then you can put it in your planner.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Would an asshole give you this?” I asked, holding out a perfectly aged cheddar, wax dipped, and embossed with the signature Baker Farm logo.
