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She left her bedroom and crept soundlessly down the hallway, her fingertips trailing lightly along the rough wooden walls. With every step her heartbeat increased, her breathing quickened.
At the living room, she poked her head around the corner and scanned the darkness for Jack. He was a series of black humps against the slightly less dark sofa. The quiet, even strains of his breathing filtered through the shadowy room.
Tess released her breath. She was okay. She bent her head down and hurried through the darkened house, closing the kitchen door silently behind her. She raced across the dew-dampened grass toward the barn and eased the huge wooden door open. By the time she'd found a lantern, matches, and the milking stool, dawn was slanting through the cracks in the barn's plank walls in streaks of pinkish gold.
"Mooo." Bessie's angry bellow echoed through the still, cold air.
Tess jumped. Her fingers spasmed reflexively around the milk can's thin metal handle.
"It's okay, Bessie," she said hesitantly, "I'm here to milk you."
Bessie swung her big brown head around and stared at Tess.
Tess moved cautiously forward, placing the milk can down between the cow's back legs. Then she put down the stool, yanked up her heavy nightgown, and planted herself on the hard wooden surface.
Bessie's hugely swollen udder filled her vision.
Tess grimaced sickly, and instinctively clamped a hand over her own bulging breasts. "Okay, Bessie, here we go."
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She gently plucked at the teat with her forefinger and thumb. The pink appendage bobbed uselessly.
Clearly this was not the best approach.
She tried again, this time grabbing hold of the teat and yanking hard.
Bessie mooed loudly and swung her head around. Long-lashed brown eyes stared unblinkingly at Tess.
Tess smiled weakly. "Not quite right, huh? How about this?" She tried again, a bit more gently.
Bessie smacked Tess in the face with her tail.
"Mama?"
Tess swiveled in her seat and saw Savannah standing just inside the barn door. "Savannah!" Tess cried. "I'm so glad you're here. Milking isn't quite as ... instinctive as I'd thought it would be."
Savannah's mouth dropped open. "Mama, you never?"
"Ah, never say never. Here?" she got to her feet "?have a seat and show me what to do. I've decided to become an active member of this family. And that means doing chores."
Savannah gave her mother a wary are-you-an-ax-murderer look. "Th-Thanks, Mama."
Tess bit back a smile as the girl sidled past her. When Savannah sat down on the stool, Tess scooted over and kneeled beside her. "What do you do first?"
Savannah curled her fingers around one of the teats, then squeezed once and pulled hard. A stream of milk shot from the teat and hit the empty bucket with a ringing sound. Steam spiraled upward, bringing with it the humid scent of fresh cream.
"How did you do that?"
"Here, watch." Savannah did it again. "Squeeze, pull, let go."
Milk squirted from two of Bessie's teats. The rapid-fire
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squirt-ping-splash of each stream hitting the bucket sang out in the quiet barn.
Tess lifted her gaze from the milk and studied Savannah, who was staring intently into the bucket, her lips drawn into a thin, colorless line.
