Page 28 of Till The Cows Come Home
“I don’t need your?—”
“I’ll do the morning milking,” she interrupted. “Why don’t you go back to sleep for a bit? I can tell you’re ornery already and I don’t want it to rub off on me. My chakras are finally aligned, and I cannot afford for you to throw them all out of whack.”
“Your what?” I questioned, truly too tired to understand her bubbly ramblings.
“I’ll teach you when you're older.” She chuckled. “I’ll even tuck you back in before I take over as long as you’ll let me make some coffee.”
“I’m not making you do my chores,” I said, walking away towards the parlor until a set of hands wrapped around my arm.
“You’re really going to take my farmanddeprive me of the simple joys I used to experience?”
“I thought you were better than a guilt trip,” I said, shaking my head.
“Unfortunately, I’m really not. So, why don’t you let me have this?”
Rolling my eyes, I nodded in agreement. Aside from her pity party, she genuinely seemed to want to help, and I was too exhausted to pass it up, so I turned back towards the house. After leading us to the kitchen, I opened the cabinets to show Sage my choices for coffee, which turned out to be one almost empty canister of dark roast.
“I usually milk the older girls first. Oh, also, I moved the iodine?—”
Before I could continue I was taken aback by a tiny finger pressed to my lips.
“Stop,” she warned, “I’m a big girl. If I can’t figure something out I’ll just remix.”
I exhaled deeply before locking eyes with her.
“Please don’t make me regret this, Sage Baker.”
She just smiled back, pushing me towards my bedroom, and surprisingly, I let her.
The more I allowed Sage to toy with my nerves, the more I’d force myself to stay awake, so I stripped into my boxers and climbed into bed before I changed my mind. I thought having someone in my home would make me restless, but as soon as my head hit the pillow, I could feel my eyes being coaxed closed, and as I teetered on blissful relaxation, I smiled, realizing that I was being lulled asleep by the soft hums filling my kitchen.
Chapter Fourteen
Sage
I’m not sure I’d ever get used to wandering a home that was no longer mine, yet I allowed myself to be led into a place that I could navigate with my eyes closed, happily brewing coffee as a visitor. I often found myself in this constant state of conflict, confused on if I should fight to take back what was “mine” or accept that Miles deserved to be here just as much as I did.
As I stirred creamer into my coffee, I silently laughed to myself, replaying Miles’ apology in response to his blatant lack of caffeine choices. My father had drank that same blend for as long as I could remember, and although it wasn’t my first choice, I could remember counting down the days until I was old enough to sit with him at the table and sip something stronger than cocoa. And if I tried hard enough, I could still feel the overwhelming happiness as we clinked mugs the first time, my face adorned with a grin so big it hurt my cheeks.
I sipped my coffee, inhaling the nostalgia before curiosity finally got the best of me, the devil on my shoulder urging me to peek into Miles’ room. Splayed across the bed was his massive frame, and from what I could tell, he was still deeplyasleep. He must’ve gotten down to just his boxers before slipping into bed, and the majority of his body was left on display.
Nickname aside, Miles truly was built like a lumberjack. Not the ones on the cover of magazines with washboard abs, which to their credit were gorgeous, but a genuine woodsman who I could only describe as strong, but soft. His arms were defined and muscular, I’m sure from all the physical labor, but his middle was free from definition, delightfully inviting. When I looked past his physique, though, I could see his wear. His eyes were dark and his hands calloused, a rite of passage for most in this line of work.
The speed at which he folded to my demands still worried me, regardless of how common it was in the field, and I couldn’t help but wonder how often he ran himself into the ground, pushing himself past empty, allowing himself just enough rest to wake up and turn on autopilot.
At that moment, I vowed to help relieve some of the burden. I knew I couldn’t go through another sale. It would irrevocably break me to see my childhood continuously handed off from person to person, and if guarding Miles’ success was the price, I’d gladly pay up.
After making a mental note to harass him about his self-maintenance, I slipped on my boots and headed towards the barn, leaving sleeping beauty to rest. With Blossom already fed, I was able to make my way straight to the parlor, and for the first time in over three years I jumped down into the milking trench. The ergonomic design always left me in awe, its curation a life saving innovation that protected the backs of millions. Being below the herd allowed for teats to land around eye level for people my height and around chest level for my father and Miles.
I remember the day it was installed my father walked to the house standing just a little bit taller. Over time, his slightly hunched posture straightened more and more, granting himyears of mobility, which he nobly squandered teaching me everything I know. So often I ignored the improvements my parents implemented, rolling my eyes at what I thought was overkill, but as I looked back, I realized more and more was done with my future in mind.
I hooked up the milking claws to the first set of cows, stepping back after all six were comfortably milking to allow myself to be in awe of the process, watching as the liquid gold traveled the lines into the bulk tank. This is how the world received their dairy, such a simple process powering such a complex portion of the world. I took pride in that my entire life, recalling all the times my father would slip in a pep talk while we were waiting in between sets.
“Remember the cows that power this industry are female. The world doesn’t give enough credit where it’s due. You can influence it all the same.”
I smiled recalling the empowerment he’d instilled in me, another thing I seemed to have forgotten throughout the years.
Once the girls were good and emptied, I removed the claws, cleaning each set of teats with iodine before lifting the gate for the current group to exit, before allowing the following to take their spots. One thing about milking cows was that it was monotonous, and if you didn’t lock them up tight, all the thoughts and feelings that you thought were secured deep down would trickle up to the surface, and unfortunately for me, I’d been out of the game for a while and my key was nowhere to be found.
