Page 27 of Till The Cows Come Home
“Rain check?” she asked.
“Rain check,” I agreed.
I wanted to convince her to stay, my body longing to bask in the odd feeling of content that came along with being around Sage, but the reins were no longer in my hands. So instead I stood back to my full height, taking a step away from the car as Sage buckled herself in.
“Drive safe,” I called, waving as I turned to walk towards the barn.
The sound of my name teetered on the edge of her lips as I walked away, so I slowed my pace, allowing her the opportunity if she wanted it, but the crunch of her moving tires solidified her decision, and I couldn’t deny the bit of disappointment I felt as she left.
When I entered the barn, I was greeted by a chorus of bellows, a bovine bat signal of sorts, signaling the girls were ready for the relief of milking.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I called, hustling to where they’d begun to congregate.
As I hopped into the parlor, the ladies lined up to enter, and I lifted the gate, welcoming the first set in. Muscle memory took over, and my thoughts began to wander despite my busy hands. Selling out the market was remarkable. If we achieved that weekly, our clientele would continue to grow, allowing a little freedom in the budget for things like extra staff. The mere thought of free time had my mouth watering as I considered all the things I’d be able to do.
Breathe...sleep…relax.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, jarring me from my fantasy, which was honestly a bit out of the ordinary. I wasn’t a huge texter and I couldn’t help the smirk tugging at my lip when I saw who the message was from.
Cow Sage
I opened it one handed, reminding myself to update her contact, while continuing to clean teats with my free hand.
Would you be alright if I took a look at those papers tomorrow morning? Around 8? I know I said after the market, but that obviously didn’t happen today and I have the day off.
I paused for a moment, deciding what tone to choose in an attempt to carefully balance being too forward or passive. Giving into my loathing of modern technology, I hit send on the simplest agreement I knew.
You text like my grandpa.
Smirking, I typed out a message, hit send, before slipping my phone into my back pocket.
Maybe you can show me the way of the youth.
I reveled in not only my progress with the farm, but also with Sage, a genuine smile plastering my face for the first time in what felt like ages. Leaving the job I hated had been a relief, but these last three years were far from easy. I spent a lot of time worried that I wouldn’t make it, occasionally thinking of other options in the event that this one fell through, and the prospective success had me feeling a happiness I hadn’t previously allowed myself. Seeing Sage soften to me was an added bonus, knowing deep down that although I didn’t need her approval, having it meant a lot.
As the last of the herd was released, I hosed everything down, gathering my things before heading inside. Blossom’s stall was on the way out, and I paused to make a mental note that if Sage wasn’t coming until late in the morning, I needed to feed the little monster, not that she’d allow me to forget.
“What are we gonna do, sweetheart?” I questioned the calf, silently checking her over as I scratched her chin.
I chuckled at the groans that escaped the tiny beast. She’d been perfectly healthy despite her dramatic birth, and this inspection, along with all the others I’d done since then, proved to be anticlimactic.
She didn’t provide any advice, but I didn’t hold it against her as I dragged myself towards the house, eager to escape the boots that struggled to hold me upright. Working alone every day was weighing on my body, and although I often ignored the exhaustion, many days I’d find myself falling asleep before dinner or dozing off if I stood idle in one spot too long. But when I sat down at the dining room table to unlace my boots, I realized my night wasn’t going to be over anytime soon.
Scooting papers back, I set the leftovers that I’d popped in the microwave on the table. The bare minimum effort would be to sort the mountains of documents overtaking my table into some semblance of organization for Sage, so after shoveling a few bites of lukewarm pasta into my mouth, I began rifling through them. Meticulous piles began forming, and I silently hoped that the effort this evening would lessen the embarrassment I’d feel tomorrow when she fully grasped how badly I let this aspect of the farm get.
After about two hours of sorting, I felt my eyelids closing in on themselves, my body’s signal that anything done from here on out would probably produce more work. A small weight lifted from my chest, though, as I allowed myself to step back and observe the dent I made. I’d been staining important documents with tomato sauce for the last few years, telling myself that this aspect of the business was the least of my worries, which earned them a place on the back burner. Unfortunately for me, I let those responsibilities simmer too long, starting a fire that I couldn’t put out alone. But a little progress was still progress, and I held onto that notion as I climbed into bed.
The sound of my phone alarm came like a shove to the chest, pushing me upright into a slight panic as I looked around. Orienting myself took slightly longer than usual, but after a few moments, my heart rate began to slow. Once I was recovering from the self-induced harsh awakening, I glanced at my phone, groaning at the time. It was already quarter to fiveand Blossom was going to be less than impressed that I made her wait for breakfast.
As I stepped onto the deck, I paused, inhaling the brisk morning air. It was the closest thing I was going to get to caffeine this morning, so I welcomed the breeze, grateful as it tickled my senses awake. But as I descended the steps, approaching the barn, the hairs on my neck raised. I had a visceral feeling I wasn’t alone, and my body’s reaction was quickly validated as I rounded the corner to Blossom’s stall to see Sage indulging in the calf’s needy demands.
“I thought you were coming at eight?”
“You look horrible.”
“I didn’t sleep well,” I grumbled.
“I planned on feeding Blossom and then leaving to run some errands, but it seems like you need some help.”
