Page 68 of When We Were Us
“This is Hank.” I welcome the interruption and use it as a chance to step into the mudroom so I don’t embarrass myself completely with the semi I’m sporting.
“Hank, y’all got a calf stuck in some fencing out west here. I tried to coax her free, but she ain’t budging. Mama’s standing by, and she’s not happy. Best send someone out this way.” The gruff voice on the other end belongs to the former police chief, Dawson Lewis.
“Appreciate the heads up. Thanks, Chief.” Lewis retired five years ago, but he’d been the chief of police for so long that the name just sort of stuck. Guy must be close to eighty by now.
I return to the kitchen and rinse my cup in the sink before shooting off a text to Jack, letting him know what’s going on in case I need help.
“I‘ve got to go,” I say and bend to press a kiss to the top of Mom’s head, who is now seated at the counter and chatting with the girls.
“Everything ok?” Mom asks.
“Got a calf caught up in some fencing. I’ve gotta run.” I nod to Wren and Finnley.
Wren sets her mug on the counter with a ceramic clink and glances at Finn. Something unspoken passes between them.
“I’ll come too,” Wren says, standing. “If that’s ok?”
“You sure?” I cock a brow at her. She’s gotta have better things to do with her morning. Then again, this is an animal we’re talking about, and she is a vet.
She nods. “I’d like to look in on Apollo after, if that’s ok?” She looks so hopeful and beautiful as she looks up at me. “Can you give me a lift home when we’re finished?”
I lift a shoulder and nod. “Sure.”
After giving Finn a side hug and my mom a quick wave goodbye, Wren follows me outside.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
hank
Despite her sore feet,Wren keeps pace with me as we leave the main house and stride across the gravel drive.
“Is the calf hurt?” Gathering her hair into one hand and winding it into a quick knot on the top of her head, she secures it with a black hair tie from her wrist as we walk.
“Not sure.”
“Mind if I grab that livestock kit I saw the night I was here for Apollo?”
I motion for her to follow me. “Doc Callahan put it together for us. Not sure what’s all in there, but you’re welcome to anything you can use.”
Once inside, Wren follows me to the closet where we keep the supplies. The kit is in a medium-sized plastic tote with a lid, and I set it on the bench beside where she is standing. She quickly rummages through it, taking inventory.
Typically, we try to bring any injured animals into a stall or pen. Mamas are understandably very protective of their calves, but I can call Jack if Wren and I can’t manage it alone. Smaller wounds are something Jack and I are used to treating. Hell, we even do our own vaccinations, but it’ll help to have Wren here in case the calf is in bad shape. Admittedly, it feels really good working on something like this with her.
I hear a couple mumbles and a hum of approval as she places items into the box. The premade kit contains gloves, gauze pads, a tube of some kind of ointment, and a bottle marked antiseptic spray. There are several rolls of Vet Wrap, a bottle of saline, betadine wipes, and a handful of various sizes of bandages. She looks happy as a clam when she finds the suture kit, then adds several shop towels and a large bulb syringe to the box.
“My compliments to Callahan.” She grins and snaps the lid shut just as my phone rings out a text message. “I’ll need fresh water,” she says, pulling the box off the bench. “Might not need any of this, but better to be prepared.”
“I’ve got two gallons of distilled in the bed of the truck,” I say as I grab a halter from a tack hook as we pass.
When my phone dings again, I flip open my phone and scan the incoming message quickly.
“Is she still stuck?”
“One of my guys just got there. Came up on her on horseback, but he doesn’t have any tools. He said she’s stuck in between some old fencing. She must have gotten spooked and wedged herself in. Not sure if there are any wounds. He and Chief Lewis are staying with her until we get there.”
“Would that beDawsonLewis?”
I’m reminded of the time he caught us parked behind the old flour mill past curfew one night. Apparently, she remembers, too, because her lips tip up into a grin.
