Page 50 of Till The Cows Come Home
“We’re not. I’m going to try to open the gate so they have a chance to make it to the pasture, but you need?—”
Before I had a chance to finish she interrupted me.
“Don’t tell me?—”
“No Sage,” I continued, “I know you can do a lot of things. I know you can hold your own, but you can’t do this. I’m going to have to break the gate lock from the outside. You’re physically not tall enough to reach over the gate without touching it. I may not even be. And I imagine it's searing hot. I need you to stay here. I need you to talk to them. I’m not asking you to do nothing, I’m asking you to do what you can.”
I pulled the muffled voice from my pocket, holding it out for her to take.
“Hello?” the woman called out. “Is there an emergency?”
“Fire,” she stuttered, taking the phone from me, some of the shock from the morning undoubtedly settling in. “Baker Farm is on fire.”
When I was confident that she’d stay put, I grabbed the hatchet from the woodpile, taking off into a run towards the gate that led to the pasture. My heart dropped when I approached the blocked exit, the scene paralyzing me with sorrow. The cows were huddled at the gate, bellowing with terror as the flames crackled above them., and as I tapped at the thick chain that was holding the gate shut, my previous assumption proved to be correct.
It was scorching hot.
I frantically began swinging the hatchet, attempting to bust the links free. The smoke clouded my vision, though, and I hissed as my underarm grazed the top of the gate. Still, I swung over and over, silently pleading to anyone who would listen. I wouldn’t recover if I had to watch the consequences of my failure, and I think the powers that be knew that because with a final swing I made contact, snapping the chain free.
Stepping back, I watched as the cows pushed the gate open, many cringing as their hides made contact with the surrounding debris. But they kept going despite the pain, grateful to be freed, and I jumped out of the way as they began filing into the pasture, doing my best not to be trampled. The relief that coursed through me as I watched them shuffle out of the barn was quickly replaced with grief as I registered the reduced numbers. It was hard to tell what percentage of the herd had exited, every crumble of the structure causing them to retreat to where they were comfortable, which was inside. I counted and recounted before realizing an entire group was missing.
“No, no, no,” I pleaded, realizing the calves were still locked in their pen.
They were due to move into the free stall with the older girls in a few weeks and I cursed at the poor timing, frustration coursing through my veins as my brain attempted to make sense of the unfairness. I smacked hind ends, sending the herd as far from the barn as I could, and when I was sure they wouldn’t venture back into danger, I shrugged off my flannel, ripping a sleeve to use as a makeshift mask. Moving as quickly as I could through the freed gate, I deeply inhaled, sucking in a reserve of fresh air before entering the smoke.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, my senses were overwhelmed, a darkness overtaking the light I’d come from just moments ago. Navigating on muscle memory alone, I crept through the darkness, hoping that I hadn’t been disoriented. Soft moos began to echo into my ears, signaling I had to be close, so I slowed, focusing on the sounds to guide me the rest of the way.
I reached out, finally feeling the dry noses of the babies crowded at the gate. The smoke made it impossible for me to stand at my full height, so I decided instead to lie on my back, using my feet as a battering ram against the wooden gate until it popped open. The calves began funneling out, their size allowing them to navigate almost completely under the cloud of smoke, and I watched helplessly as they disappeared, silently praying that they'd find their way.
My hand blindly ushered the tiny bodies along until only one remained. I tapped her behind, attempting to guide her out, but when she struggled against my touch, I realized something was wrong.
“Come on, sweetheart,” I mumbled, the words barely escaping my soot filled throat.
Gliding my hands down her body, I felt the hoof that had wedged itself between the slats of the stall, hindering herescape. I pushed with one hand while pulling with the other, popping it free, and I silently celebrated when she trotted away from me.
The extra time had cost me, and I fought the urge to lie down and rest. The fresh air waited just a few yards away, and I fantasized about it filling my lungs as I forced myself into a crawl. After a few feet, though, I could feel my body slow and rested my head between my knees, clutching at the breath I just couldn’t seem to take. My lungs refused to fill, and after a few moments, a numbness spread through me, easing the discomfort until eventually I felt nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sage
Istood outside the barn watching as flames flickered through the wooden windows. The woman on the other end of the phone continued to ask me questions, but I couldn’t focus, my mind consumed with worry.
“Hello?” the dispatcher called out. “Are you still with me?”
“Yes, sorry,” I mumbled, squinting my eyes in an attempt to see through the smoke. I hadn’t seen Miles since he ran in, and his absence was boring a hole into my nerves.
“Is there anyone inside?” she asked.
“My boyfriend,” I responded immediately, allowing the word to roll off my tongue. I regretted not declaring it sooner, and I vowed to do so the moment I saw Miles safe again.
Something moved within the smoke and relief flooded through me as soon as I saw the first cow emerge. I waited, expecting Miles to follow any minute, and excitement coursed through me, knowing he’d successfully freed the gate. A few minutes passed, and I kept staring, waiting for him to walk out, swaying back and forth on my feet until I could no longer take it. Taking off, I jogged around to where thecows were now exiting into the pasture. I’d hoped to see Miles directing traffic, but smoke billowed from the door, making it impossible to see even a few feet into the barn. I couldn’t understand why he’d go any further than the gate, but when I scanned through the cows recovering, making sure Miles wasn’t amongst them, the realization hit me.
The calves.
He must’ve exerted himself when he broke through the gate, and the thought of him gassed running into the smoke made my chest ache. The sirens were nearing, but my gut was telling me not to wait, that there wasn’t time.
“Miles!” I called, ducking under the pasture fence.
