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I looked out the window to the pasture and saw the calf stumbling toward the broken fence line near the woods. By the time those two idiots were done arguing over what had happened, that calf was gonna kill itself wandering over to the woods, where animals of prey were typically lying in wait. I dropped my shit scooper and took off, my boots carrying me as fast as I could across the field as I tried to get to the calf that was wandering to its death.
I kept my breathing under control as I ran after the animal. The stumbling thing didn’t look to be any older than a few weeks, far away from the comfort of its mother. How the hell it got out of the grasp of someone like Paul was beyond me.
I huffed and puffed, wrangling the calf in and getting it moving back in the right direction. This was not what I signed up for. This was not what I was being paid to do. I turned toward the barn and set off, moving toward the herd of cows as the men stood at the horse barn. Their arms were crossed across their chests, and I could see the sly grins on their faces.
Holy fuck. I’d been set up.
I watched the calf rejoin with the herd as I shook my head. This was not going to happen much longer. So long as I was around, things were going to go differently.
At least, that was what I told myself as I handed Drake and Paul tools half an hour later.
“Ever been around a tractor?” Paul asked.
I stayed silent, leaning against the toolbox as I stared off into the horizon.
“Earth to city girl, hello?” Paul asked.
“Yes. I’ve been around a tractor,” I said.
“Did ya think it was sexy?” Drake asked.
“Shitty song reference, but thanks for trying,” I said.
“That hurt. That song’s a classic,” Paul said. “Could you hand me a bigger wrench? This ain’t doin’ it.”
I took the wrench Paul was holding up to me as I traded it for one a few sizes up.
“You looked good wranglin’ that calf,” Paul said. “Took off pretty quick.”
“Because you were too busy whining about needing a horse while that poor thing wandered toward wildcat territory,” I said.
“Man, she’s a spitfire, ain’t she?”
Paul asked.
“Told you,” Drake said. “Pass me the pliers, would ya?”
I grabbed the pliers and tossed them at Drake, watching as he caught them expertly in the palm of his hand.
Pity. I was hoping they’d smack him right in his smug face.
The entire day went like that. I didn’t get one solid break to call Hank at all, and something told me Drake had planned the day that way. I was really going to hate this fucking job. If Drake wasn’t bossing me around like some fucking ranch hand on his farm, he was drinking from the flask he thought he was hiding. I saw him tip it back at least twice before he went back up to the house unannounced.
If I had to venture a guess, I would say he had been filling the damn thing back up.
That was probably how he had worked all day without stopping to eat. He drank water and booze like a fucking camel, but shit like that suppressed the appetite. And depending on the concentration of the alcohol he was consuming, that was probably how he stayed so fit. Farm life like this, plus not eating the calories he needed to keep up with the energy he exerted, resulted in the sinewy body plastered on the few magazine covers he had done over the course of his career. Though nothing could hide the bags under his eyes.
I guess dehydrated alcoholic was the new sexy.
As the sun started to set, my shirt was plastered to me. I was soaked to the bone with sweat as I stumbled to my truck. I flung the door open and dug through my truck, finding a box of granola bars I’d tossed in there. I unwrapped three of them and scarfed them down, trying to get my stomach to stop growling long enough for me to wrap my head around things. I found a bottle of lukewarm water tumbling around in the back, so I grabbed it and twisted the top off.
I threw it back, chugging it down as sweat dripped down my neck.
I was exhausted. My feet hurt, my back hurt, and my stomach was still growling. My head was dizzy from the lack of food, and my throat was still burning for more water. I leaned against my truck, polishing off the water bottle as I heard footsteps approaching me.
I didn’t have to look over to know who it was.
I tossed the empty bottle into the bed of the truck and turned my eyes toward Drake. I wiped the sweat off my brow as the sun continued to sink below the trees. Night time was coming, blanketing the whole of Nashville in a cool evening breeze. At any other time, I would’ve tilted my head toward the sky and counted the stars starting to pop up overheard. I would’ve tried to find my favorite constellations and recall the stories my father used to tell me about them.
