Page 2 of Cabins Cows Critics
“Wait right there,” I say, and she lets out a soft moo in reply. “I won’t be long, you want warm water, don’t you?”
She lowers her head and nibbles on the hay in front of her, and I jog over to grab what I need. The water out here can get pretty chilly, so they hooked up one of the sinks to a hot water system. I change the hose to that faucet and grab the healthy hair cattle soap and a stiff brush.
I check the temp of the water first on my hand before going in and hosing Miss Moo down. She isn’t fazed by it. In fact, I half think she purposefully rolls around in the muck to get a bath, the way she seems to enjoy the attention.
Miss Moo is Poppy’s heifer. A gift from Dean and her dad, Preston, the local vet. After Dean and Preston finally sorted their shit out and realized they were made for each other, Preston and Poppy moved in, and while it’s been interesting getting used to changing the way we speak when the little lady is around, we’re at a point now where it’s hard to imagine this place without her.
The hose does a decent job of getting rid of a lot of the mud, but she’ll still need a good scrub. It was a good thing Skye found her before it dried. Soaking dried mud from cattle fur is a huge pain in the ass and takes hours.
“Right, now, Miss Moo, let’s get you lookin’ all sparkly and new again,” I say, and I hear a giggle from behind me, and I turn to find Poppy.
“Are you talking to the cows again, Uncle C?”
I’m not her uncle, not really, but she likes to call all the guys on the farm uncle since moving in. I don’t mind. The ranch has become my family, and it’s a far better one than the one I left all those years ago. My grandfather would hate it here. The eclectic array of animals, the cuddle cove, and especially the diverse people who call this place home. And there lies the reason I ran away from the life I had before. The life my father and grandfather had planned for me from the moment I wasborn. These guys never asked about who I used to be. They only seemed to care who I am now, and that suits me just fine.
“Miss Moo was just telling me how it was your idea to go rolling in the mud,” I say, and her mouth opens wide in disbelief.
“She did not. I didn’t tell her to roll into the mud. I swear,” she pleads, storming over, little arms pumping by her sides. It’s adorable.
I take off my hat and plonk it down on her head.
“I know, Short Stack. This one is a wild one all on her own. How about you tell me about your day while you clean her face, and I’ll do the rest?”
“Sure,” she replies, tilting her head back to look up at me under the brim of my hat. “I taught Houdini a new trick today.” She beams.
“Oh really?” I ask, more than a little impressed. Houdini is the Beakers’ Australian sheepdog, and while his name might have people assuming he’s a master escape artist, he’s actually the most ridiculous dog I’ve ever met. He’s got zero self-preservation instincts, too. Caught him in with Brutus, our wildest bull, the other day, just running around like he owned the pen. “What did you teach him?”
“I showed him how to open the bottom cupboard in the kitchen so he can hide from Gunther.”
I stifle a laugh.
“Why?”
She shrugs.
“They’re always together, and Gunther likes it when he jumps out to scare him. It’s a game.” Gunther is a full-sized pig that follows the dog around like it’s his mama and sleeps in the house with him, too.
“And this is a game they can play in Sally-May’s kitchen?” I ask.
“It was the easiest cupboard to open, the handle is low and big enough for him to get his paw into.”
She says it so proudly, like she didn’t just invite chaos into the one room in the Beaker house that we all know to keep chaos-free.
“Does Sally-May know you taught Houdini this new, wonderful trick?”
“No, but he was hiding in there when I left, so she might know now.”
“I’m guessing she’ll figure it out when he jumps out to surprise Gunther.”
“Yeah. Probably,” she says with all the innocence of the child she is in her expression, but in her heart, there lies the devilish mischief that I adore.
“After, can I do the brushing while you blow-dry this time?” she asks.
“Whatever you want, Short Stack. Whatever you want.”
Chapter two
Hayden
