Page 162 of Sunrise & Serenity

When I can’t hold on to the side anymore, I let go. But my boots stick in the mud, and my momentum carries me backward so I land on my ass.

Cold water immediately soaks through the denim. Ugh, the ride home isn’t going to be pleasant.

“Sorry,” Taryn calls down, though she’s grinning.

I squint up at her. “Thanks.”

Pushing myself up, I extricate my feet. Then I work my way through the muddy water and over the occasional slippery rock. “Easy,” I murmur as I crouch beside the calf.

The poor thing’s sides heave rapidly beneath his patchy coat, water and mud caking it nearly black.

“I’m going to throw the rope down now,” Taryn says. “Just loop it around his chest. He’s pretty tired, so hopefully he won’t struggle much.”

The cow’s calling has gotten louder and more urgent since I got close to her baby, but I tune her out, focusing on the rope Taryn throws to me. Once I have it, I tentatively slip the loop over the calf’s head.

He starts to struggle, letting out another high-pitched cry. His mama responds, her hooves scraping dirt near the edge of the ditch. Breath held, I glance up, hoping to god she doesn’t fall on top of us.

The calf gives up its fight after a few seconds. As soon as he calms, I ease the loop down over his shoulders and carefully work it behind his front legs until it rests around his chest.

“Good job,” Taryn calls. “I’m going to put a little pressure on the rope. You might have to help me get him standing.”

Nodding, I move back a few feet.

Once I’m in position, she looks down at me again. “Ready? I’m going to pull.”

She grunts, and the rope tightens around the calf. It scrambles to his feet, and I steady his wobbly back end. Thank goodness he stays upright.

“And again,” Taryn says.

This time when she heaves, I push at the calf’s butt. He protests loudly but takes two reluctant steps forward. I grin. “It’s working.”

Her laugh echoes along the gully. “Of course it is.”

We maneuver the calf a step or two at a time toward where the slope gentles. Taryn works the rope like she’s done this a hundred times, applying pressure when he stalls and giving him slack when he moves, while I steady him whenever he stumbles over a slippery rock.

“Okay,” Taryn says when we’ve guided the little guy to the right place. “Nearly there. You’ll have to take the rope off, then point his head in the right direction and shove.”

“Right,” I mutter to myself as I loosen the rope. I tug it over his head and drop it, grateful when the calf remains standing. He’s swaying, clearly exhausted, so if I don’t get him moving now, I may have to wrestle him back onto his feet.

Guiding him so he’s facing the opposite side of the gully, I give him a gentle nudge forward.

The mom calls down from the bank above us, successfully encouraging her baby to move. As he scrabbles for purchase, nearly slipping before finding his feet, I give him another shove from behind. It’s a little tricky, since my boots keep sliding in the mud, but he lurches up, almost goes sideways, then lurches again. With one final shove from me and a burst of effort from the calf, he tumbles up and over the edge.

He lets out a loud cry, and his mother snuffles over him as if to make sure he’s okay.

A laugh escapes me. “We did it.”

I turn back toward Taryn. She’s still standing above me on the other side, hands on her hips and a grin on her face. “Yeah. We did.”

I flex my aching shoulders, then survey the steep bank I still need to climb to get back to her.

“By the way,” Taryn says as I grab a thick hunk of grass near the top. “Remember when I said you looked like a real cowgirl?”

“Yep.” I give the grass an experimental tug, and it holds.

“I was wrong. Now you do.”

I choke out a laugh as I heave myself up the side. “I was just missing the mud, huh?”