Page 21 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Right. Umm, I really should get the barn mucked out.”
“I’ll help with that after the milking.”
I am all out of excuses.
“Okay, I guess I’m in.”
When we get to the milking shed, the guests are all congregated out the front of the main doors chatting amongstthemselves. The sisters from cabin seven are both wearing denim overalls and straw hats and taking selfies in front of the barn with their lips pouted. I stifle a laugh, and then my gaze lands on Hayden. He’s wearing a dark blue coat and is pulling it tight around him, trying to get warm. His shoulders are up by his ears, but when his gaze lands on mine, they relax, and he shoots me a warm smile.
I turn away and climb over the railing to head to the back entrance. The cows for the morning run are waiting by the doors, mostly. They love being milked and can’t wait to get inside. Gordon headbutts my thigh, sending a pang through me.
“Hold on, you stubborn ass,” I say as the donkey “hee-haws,” and tries to headbutt me again. I pull the doors open, and he watches his girls pass one by one, making their way into their slots. Gordon will go in last and wait in his custom place at the end of one of the rows. When he was orphaned at birth, the Beakers’ grandfather, who used to run this place, put him in with a dairy cow who had lost her calf the day before. It was a fucking miracle she even accepted him. He grew fast, but as each day passed, he became more and more attached to his foster mom and the other cows. Refusing to leave their side even for the milking. He busted through the barn wall one time they tried to keep him out. Apparently, a new farmhand thought they were joking when they told him to hook up Gordon on the last slot.
He strolls past after the last of the girls is through the door and takes his place at the end. I loop over his harness, custom-built just for him, because one, he’s not a cow, and two, he’s a male, so no teats to milk if we wanted. I’m not sure how popular donkey milk would be even if he were a girl.
Gordon brays again, and I give him a brush down while I wait for the rest of the girls to find their places. Skye, the youngest farmhand, is down the front helping to settle them in. He’s easy to spot on the ranch with his bright hair and sometimes evenbrighter clothes. He’s a good kid, though, sweet, super keen to learn everything he can, too. He’s another guy who has found his home here on the Beaker Brothers Ranch. It’s sort of become the place for wayward animals and people. Skye applied to countless farms before finding his place here. But it’s not just about finding a place to work; he’s found a family, a home where he’s accepted for the amazing person he is.
That’s what I’ve found, too. Except these guys don’t really know who I am. I mean, they know me. They just don’t know the old me. The me I left behind all those years ago. Would they still accept me if they knew? Would they be mad that I lied to them all these years? Would they want me to leave?
The front doors open, and the guests follow Nial inside. My gaze goes immediately to Hayden, and I find he’s already clocked me. His brows pinch together, creasing in faint lines between his eyes as he studies me like he may see past the facade I’ve spent years building. Maybe he already knows who I really am. Maybe he’s the reporter doing a story on this place, and now he’s found an even bigger hook. I turn and make a start down in front of the girls, hooking up their collars to keep them in their slots during milking. They’re in two rows down the length of the milking barn, and while they don’t have specific slots assigned to each of them, some of the girls do seem to gravitate to the same areas every session. They’ll get milked twice each day, and it’s more than enough to get our quota of milk collected and leave enough for their calves.
Nial leads the guests my way.
“Each cow produces between six and nine gallons of milk a day. These girls here are our biggest producers, they’re Holstein cows, and they each will hit the nine gallons on a regular basis; however, most of the girls in here will stick to around six.”
“How do you know when they are done?” someone calls out, and Nial grins.
“Our girls are milked for a set amount of time each session, and we monitor them closely through the whole process. Their udders will become wrinkly and soft when empty, and we don’t want to keep milking past then, even if there is still time left on the clock. Overmilking can be really uncomfortable for the girls and can lead to infection.”
“Do they like it?” Wendy asks, and Nial crouches beside Gert, who’s busy eating grass in stall one.
“See how full Gert is,” he says, rubbing his hand over her swollen udder.
“She looks like she’s ready to burst,” Hayden replies.
“Exactly. They’ll feel much better once we’re done here, and they get to have a good feed while we ease the pressure for them, too.”
Nial moves around to the front of Gert. He clips her collar around her neck, grabs the scanner from the side wall, and first scans the tag on the post next to the stall number, then the tag on her ear.
We’ve had RED tech sensors installed on the whole herd for months now, and it’s been going great. They send a tech out every month to talk to the guys about what is working and what could possibly be integrated for the future. That’s why we have post tags now, too. We’re tracking to see if there is any correlation between placement in the shed and milk production levels. Just walking through the shed, you can feel some areas are warmer, some have better air flow, the noise of the tractor and people outside is heard more from the front, but the girls in back have Gordon hee-hawing, too. I have no idea if any of it has any effect on the girls’ productivity, and I don’t really care, either. How much milk they produce isn’t my concern. I only care that they are healthy and well looked after. The sensors track their health, too, and we picked up on more than one infection thanks to them already, so they’re worth it in mybook. Next week, we’ll be installing them on the mini Highlands so I can be sure they’re kept healthy and happy, too. Plus, it’s basically GPS for animals, and with more than one of those cheeky shits getting out and hiding on the property, I need all the help I can get finding them.
“Can I help with this one?” Hayden asks, kneeling beside me and pulling me from my thoughts. His delicious honeycomb scent fills my nose and sends a wave of vibrations through my body right to my groin.
“Ahh, sure, umm, can you grab that there?” I say, pointing to the hose.
He hands it over, and I give Fran’s udder a good wash.
“You can dry her off with that,” I say, nodding to the rag. He wipes over her gently like he’s afraid he’ll hurt her, and it’s adorable.
“Now we can hook her up,” I say, reaching over and grabbing the harness. I slip on the first two and gesture for him to do the rest. He copies my actions perfectly.
“And that’s it?” he asks.
“Yep, that’s it. Now we move on to the next one, until they’re all hooked up.”
“Cool,” he replies, a satisfied grin on his face. I clean off the next girl, and he wipes her over without being asked.
“So about last night,” he whispers, though with Nial telling the story of Gordon, I doubt any of the guests are listening to us.
