had.
Shit.
Considering that this stretch of the family land was pancake flat for as far as the eye could see, and the Black Angus contrasted sharply against the winter grass and snow, this meant the stray was hidden behind a drift, either lost or hurt.
It took an hour of meandering through the drifts, but he finally found her, only to have his stomach knot with concern. Why hadn’t Millie or Peg told him they had a momma due to deliver a winter calf? Never failed, they always somehow managed to come in a storm.
The cow had found a slight dip in the land, and in the few minutes he’d been watching, she’d already gotten up and down only to get back up again. Judging by the half-frozen fluid on her hind legs, her water sack had recently broken, only her teats were slick and shiny—usually an indication that she’d already had her calf and it had fed. Most cows safely delivered their calves without incident, and they usually didn’t appreciate a crowd. Judging by the momma’s level of agitation, it looked like this was the case here.
Despite this fact, with the temps so low, he’d feel a lot better at least seeing the calf to make sure it seemed healthy.
He approached the cow nice and slow, only to get a surprise. “I’ll be damned...” Tucked in between drifts was one cleaned, contented-looking calf and another looking forlorn and shivering. “Looks like someone had twins.”
Didn’t happen often, but when it did, one of the calves ran the risk of being rejected.
Cooper removed his coat, wrapped it around the shivering calf, then settled it in the truck bed. His hope was that the cow would see her calf and follow with the other, but no such luck. Just as he’d feared, she’d rejected her second born, which meant it would be up to Cooper to bottle feed it milk and colostrum.
Back when he’d helped out on a daily basis, Cooper remembered Clint having kept some frozen—just in case. If not, Cooper would put in a call to the vet.
He looked back to find the cow’s firstborn on her feet and nursing—a great sign that all was well where they were concerned. But the little one he moved to the truck’s front seat wasn’t yet out of the woods.
“Let’s get you warmed up.”
The poor little thing still shivered.
Cooper revved the engine, then turned the heater knob to high.
Since he knew the way through the snowdrift maze, the trip to the barn took under ten minutes—only now that the calf had stopped shivering, Cooper was reluctant to put the little darlin’ back outside without a heat lamp.
What would Millie say about having chickens and a calf in her kitchen? The thought of her pretty face all scrunched into a frown made him smile. But what really warmed him through and through was the certainty that even though she might temporarily be caught off guard by their houseguest, she’d care for it as well as she did every other creature in the house.
He admired the hell out of her. She understandably didn’t think much of him. Would that ever change? Would she ever again think of herself not just as his sister-in-law, but as his friend?
*
“S ORRY , P EG , BUT I’ve gotta go.” Millie pressed the off button on the phone then stared at Cooper and what he’d brought through the back door. “
Really?
Helga couldn’t have held on a little longer?” For a split second, Millie indulged in feeling sorry for herself at having a calf added to her kitchen menagerie, but then she surged into action. The only guarantee her life had ever come with was that what could go wrong, would. This was just another one of those occasions.
“Helga?” Cooper shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The calf was woefully small, but Millie guessed him to still weigh between sixty and seventy pounds. “You couldn’t have come up with a better name?”
“Cool!” J.J. bounded into the kitchen. “Does this mean we have a pet cow?”
“Only until we get a heating lamp rigged in the barn.” Millie tugged
Shit.
Considering that this stretch of the family land was pancake flat for as far as the eye could see, and the Black Angus contrasted sharply against the winter grass and snow, this meant the stray was hidden behind a drift, either lost or hurt.
It took an hour of meandering through the drifts, but he finally found her, only to have his stomach knot with concern. Why hadn’t Millie or Peg told him they had a momma due to deliver a winter calf? Never failed, they always somehow managed to come in a storm.
The cow had found a slight dip in the land, and in the few minutes he’d been watching, she’d already gotten up and down only to get back up again. Judging by the half-frozen fluid on her hind legs, her water sack had recently broken, only her teats were slick and shiny—usually an indication that she’d already had her calf and it had fed. Most cows safely delivered their calves without incident, and they usually didn’t appreciate a crowd. Judging by the momma’s level of agitation, it looked like this was the case here.
Despite this fact, with the temps so low, he’d feel a lot better at least seeing the calf to make sure it seemed healthy.
He approached the cow nice and slow, only to get a surprise. “I’ll be damned...” Tucked in between drifts was one cleaned, contented-looking calf and another looking forlorn and shivering. “Looks like someone had twins.”
Didn’t happen often, but when it did, one of the calves ran the risk of being rejected.
Cooper removed his coat, wrapped it around the shivering calf, then settled it in the truck bed. His hope was that the cow would see her calf and follow with the other, but no such luck. Just as he’d feared, she’d rejected her second born, which meant it would be up to Cooper to bottle feed it milk and colostrum.
Back when he’d helped out on a daily basis, Cooper remembered Clint having kept some frozen—just in case. If not, Cooper would put in a call to the vet.
He looked back to find the cow’s firstborn on her feet and nursing—a great sign that all was well where they were concerned. But the little one he moved to the truck’s front seat wasn’t yet out of the woods.
“Let’s get you warmed up.”
The poor little thing still shivered.
Cooper revved the engine, then turned the heater knob to high.
Since he knew the way through the snowdrift maze, the trip to the barn took under ten minutes—only now that the calf had stopped shivering, Cooper was reluctant to put the little darlin’ back outside without a heat lamp.
What would Millie say about having chickens and a calf in her kitchen? The thought of her pretty face all scrunched into a frown made him smile. But what really warmed him through and through was the certainty that even though she might temporarily be caught off guard by their houseguest, she’d care for it as well as she did every other creature in the house.
He admired the hell out of her. She understandably didn’t think much of him. Would that ever change? Would she ever again think of herself not just as his sister-in-law, but as his friend?
*
“S ORRY , P EG , BUT I’ve gotta go.” Millie pressed the off button on the phone then stared at Cooper and what he’d brought through the back door. “
Really?
Helga couldn’t have held on a little longer?” For a split second, Millie indulged in feeling sorry for herself at having a calf added to her kitchen menagerie, but then she surged into action. The only guarantee her life had ever come with was that what could go wrong, would. This was just another one of those occasions.
“Helga?” Cooper shifted his weight from one leg to the other. The calf was woefully small, but Millie guessed him to still weigh between sixty and seventy pounds. “You couldn’t have come up with a better name?”
“Cool!” J.J. bounded into the kitchen. “Does this mean we have a pet cow?”
“Only until we get a heating lamp rigged in the barn.” Millie tugged
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