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We saddled up and rode out into the field nearest the ranch. It’d snowed over a foot throughout the night and Eugie was having trouble lifting his joints through the height, so I lifted him onto my saddle and he sat cradled in front of me. Cricket shook her head at me.
“You’ll spoil him,” she said with a smile.
“So?” I challenged.
She rolled her eyes in jest and trotted forward toward a calf laying down.
“Oh no,” she quieted under her breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked her, confused.
She dismounted. “They shouldn’t lie like this,” she explained. “They get hypothermia and die quickly this way. She must be sick too.”
“What should we do?” I asked, dismounting myself.
“We’ll have to take her back with her mama. Put her in the barn with the others. If the new mix of antibiotics works, we can start treating the herd and prevent more deaths.”
We took the calf back to the barn then headed right back out into the blistering cold, Eugie all the time cosseted in my lap. We discovered three more in the herd like the last and two more dead calves.
“This is bad, Spencer,” she said when we happened upon the second corpse. She threw her leg off her horse and settled her boots into the deep snow. I followed suit, dropping Eugie beside me. She looked on me for a moment.
“If I could fix it for you, I would,” I told her, feeling beyond helpless.
She smiled softly. “I know,” she said. She looked at the lifeless calf and sighed. “Pop Pop will not be pleased.” I shook my head in response. “We’re relying heavily on this being an excellent year for us. We’re depending on it.”
This felt beyond foreboding. Cricket was confiding in me her family’s secret fears.
“What will happen if you don’t make it what you need it to be?” I asked bluntly.
She looked at me with glassy eyes. “I couldn’t even begin,” she said.
“Then we will make this year what you need it.”
She smiled sadly. “Easier said.”
We skipped breakfast that morning, too busy with the crisis of the ranch, but lunch was a requirement. We’d burned so many calories working and because of the cold, Cricket started to look ill.
“Come on,” I told her when she locked another calf and its mother in a stall.
“No,” she said, heading back toward the carriage house.
I tugged on her jacket. “Nope, I insist. Lunch. Now.”
“I can’t, Spencer, I’ve got—” she began but I cut her off by dragging her through the barn doors against her will.
I had to admit, manhandling someone so small delighted me to no end. She couldn’t even put up a decent fight. Although her bony hands did annoy just a tad when she feistily punched at me, but I only laughed at her monstrous effort and the tiny effect it truly had. She laughed as she fought me down.
“I can’t get a grip,” she complained.
“Yeah, that’s it,” I laughed before turning to a mock seriousness. “Quiet,” I ordered. “Ellie will kill me if I let you go any farther. You look pale.”
“Uh,” she said, staring up at me as I tossed her tiny figure around like a rag doll. “I hate to break it to you, but my skin is naturally this transparent.”
“You’re pale, I grant you, but your face always has a bit of rosy in its cheeks, and I’ve never seen your eyes this dull.” She stared at me and I stopped abruptly, setting her down for a moment. She haughtily adjusted her clothing. “I mean, from what I’ve observed. You know, in passing,” I told her, continuing on again. My neck started to heat under my bandana.
“You, uh, notice those things about me, do you?” she asked, as we ascended the staircase and began to round the deck toward the dining hall.
“It’s no secret I’m attracted to you, Cricket.”
