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My eyes narrow, and she returns the gesture before continuing. “I’ve spent over a decade learning all about the limitations of your leg injury and the right ways to bring it back. How long have you been thinking about that leg, Rhett? If I had to guess, I’d say it started sometime around the day after it happened. I think that puts me in the lead.”
“Fine.” I shake my head. “You want to make sure I don’t do shit you deem I shouldn’t? Well, then buckle up, sweetheart, because we’re already late for our next stop on the schedule. But if I were you, I’d make sure you wait around to get some advice on how to handle yourself. If you don’t with this task…you’re sure to regret it.”
Leah
“What…and I mean this in the nicest, most non-offensive way possible…but what in the ever-loving hell is going on here?”
My eyes bounce like ping-pong balls, trying to focus on one of the many happenings in front of us, but it’s too much. I’m on sensory overload, and I don’t even know how to process what I’m seeing.
I mean, that’s not true.
I’m processing it fine. It’s the acceptance of reality and putting it into words that are giving me the biggest struggle.
There’s a big boy cow, up on his hind legs, his giant horns stretched way out to each side of his head, and a man stands at his side with a tube of some sort in his hand. There’s another big cow or whatever in front of it, just sort of standing there while someone holds its head in a fenced-in area with a lead line.
And it’s very apparent the big boy cow is thinking he’s getting some bow chicka wow wow action. Literally.
The guy with the horns is in full-on hump mode, and I don’t really understand how or why. Obviously, I get why he’s in the mood to hump—he has a penis. But why he’s doing it into a large tube held within a man’s hand is a different question entirely.
“Longhorn bull sperm collection.”
Sperm collection? Oh, holy humping jackrabbits.
I’m not ashamed to admit that I nearly have to pick my jaw up off the ground.
“So…” I pause, squinting toward the insane scene that lays before me. “That guy is really holding some kind of sleeve on that bull’s—”
“Penis,” Rhett finishes for me. “Yep.”
“And he’s…he’s…”
“Collecting sperm to sell.”
“W-what kind of buyers are looking for sperm, exactly?” I ask, more than just a little shocked that this is even a thing. I mean, who would want cow sperm? And why would they want it?
“All kinds,” Rhett answers like this is the most normal thing he’s seen all day. “We’ve got some of the finest longhorn bull stock in the country. Other people want their herds to be the same. Since it’d be hard for us to cart our bulls all over the States, breedin’ every cow under the sun, this is the way it’s done. We collect the sperm and ship it out to ’em, and they inseminate their females.”
“Well. That’s just… Well, it’s great. Really ingenious. And that guy looks like he’s doing a really fine job of collecting it. Truly. A professional, which I’m sure you have to be in order to do something this sensitive…”
I’m rambling at this point, but who could blame me? Witnessing sperm collection wasn’t exactly something that was on my to-do list when I came out here. Pretty sure this isn’t on most people’s to-do list. Like, ever.
Rhett smirks, and I lick my lips nervously when realization hits me. Holy hell, he’s not expecting me to do this shit, is he?
“Ronald is definitely a seasoned professional at collection, but he has somewhere else to be. Which is why we’re here. We’re takin’ over.”
“We’re…we’re doing that?” I ask with an index finger pointed toward the cow that’s currently humping with a purpose.
Rhett nods. “Or I am. Or you are. I guess that’s up to you, Doc. Since you know best with my leg and all. Wouldn’t wanna be pushin’ it and actin’ like I know more than I do, right? That was your point before, wasn’t it?”
A humorless laugh jumps from my lungs. “Oh, wow. You must think you’re pretty clever, setting me up like this.”
“I know you might be used to people planning their days around you, darlin’, but I can assure you, that’s not what I’ve done. This collection happens twice a week, every week, and we haven’t arranged anything special just for you.”
My cheeks redden with embarrassment, and I swallow my thick saliva down. The truth is, I did let my head get away from me for a minute, and I was thinking they’d set this up for me.
Which is both ludicrous and seriously self-centered, and being forced to confront it head on feels unexpected.
