Page 52 of Till The Cows Come Home
“Both of us,” I responded, grabbing Sage’s hand. “It belongs to us both.”
“And how many cows did y'all have?” she asked, each word thickly coated with a layer of sympathy.
“Ninety-six total, including the calves,” I responded, waiting for the blow.
“It looks like sixty-two made it out. I’m so sorry. The fire engulfed where the stalls were, but we contained it before it made its way to the parlor. You should?—”
She continued talking, but my brain couldn’t process anything more. Thirty-four. We’d lost thirty-four cows. Thirty-four members of our family. Gone.
“Is it safe for us?” I asked. “I’d like to head to the pasture to start completing a roll call and see who’s missing.”
“The barn still needs to be cleared for stability, but you’re more than welcome to head to the pasture. I do advise you to go to the hospital at some point to get those burns looked at, but I know better than to try to force a farmer to see a doctor.”
“Thanks.” I nodded, stepping off the back of the ambulance.
As I grabbed Sage’s hand, helping herdown, two cars pulled in, one after the other, and I watched as Ruby sprinted over, followed closely by Sage’s parents.
“Oh my god guys, are you okay?” Ruby asked, pulling us both in a hug.
“We’re okay,” Sage responded, but I could tell she was trying her best not to fall apart.
“Sweetheart, what happened?” Gale cried out, turning Sage’s body to face her. She looked her daughter over for injuries while searching between our eyes for an explanation.
“They don’t know yet,” I interjected. “We were just about to go see who made it.”
“We’ll help,” Stu offered, the others nodding in unison. “Do you have a record we could use to see who you started with?”
My heart sank, flooded with embarrassment. My lack of record keeping had finally snuck up on me, but as I was about to admit my fault, Sage spoke up.
“I made a list,” she choked out through her smoke tinged voice, “numerical by ear tag. We can use it to check off who’s here. I’ll grab it.”
Before I could react, she was headed towards the house and I couldn’t help but look with awe at the woman walking away from me. I had no idea she’d done more work with the paperwork, but I wasn’t surprised. The entire time I was attempting to win Sage over, she was showing me in her own little ways that she was already mine.
In her absence, I gathered some flashlights and a spare jacket from my truck, flinching as the fabric made brief contact with my open skin. My hands shook as I attempted to secure the buttons down the front, the adrenaline undoubtedly wearing off to unearth the swirls of emotions I’d suppressed.
Sage emerged from the house holding a few copies of the list on clipboards and as she dolled them out, she also handedus each a red and green highlighter. My brain paused for a moment, briefly confused, but the weight behind the colors quickly settled into my chest. I grabbed Sage’s hand, desperate for the support of her touch, and after handing out flashlights to the others, we all made our way to the pasture. The fire department had flooded patches to allow the surviving cows fresh drinking water and I cringed at the memory of my own soot filled throat, eternally grateful that they were allowed the same relief. Light threatened to peek over the hills, and I knew the true sunrise would soon arrive to unveil the damage hidden in the dark.
“I guess we just start with the closest,” I sighed, overwhelmed by the sight in front of me.
Sage nodded, stepping to the first heifer I knew as Patty, scanning her list until she located the ear tag number.
“Glad to see you, Patty,” she whispered, highlighting the row in green before stroking the cow’s neck. Tears rolled down her face as she placed a kiss on her nose, lingering for just a moment, before moving to the next.
The others followed suit, repeating this process until every remaining cow was accounted for.
“How many?” I asked Stu.
“Thirty-five,” he responded.
“We got twenty-seven, so that adds up.”
“Did you guys see Blossom?” Sage asked, biting her lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering.
“No,” Ruby answered, squeezing her friend's hand. “You?”
Sage shook her head no, unable to answer, and Ruby engulfed her in an embrace.
“I’m so sorry, Sage.”
