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Of course, cows aren’t generally regarded as terrifying creatures. But here’s what you never realize when you see them on milk cartons, or on TV, or even in some distant field: They. Are. Enormous.
They make even Jack Stapleton look small.
So even though I was safely encased in a luxury SUV, I could still feel my heart going double-time in my chest. I was surrounded by them. A hundred? A thousand? A whole hell of a lot. All with limpid black eyes, and surprisingly feminine lashes, staring point-blank into my soul.
Whatever noise I’d just made, it startled Jack, too.
At the sound, he turned and started running back toward the car—and the genuine concern I saw on his face right then only amplified my anxiety.
In my defense, here are the facts as I experienced them:
1. I was attacked by a cow.
2. Fine. I screamed.
3. Jack Stapleton came running.
Doesn’t that feel like cause for concern?
At the edge of the herd, Jack slowed, adjusting into a calm saunter, but he kept his eyes on me. He entered the crowd of beasts and walked calmly among them until he’d reached the driver’s door.
He climbed in.
“What happened?” he said then, looking me over, all intense.
I blinked, like Duh.
“Are you hurt? What was it?”
“What was it?” I said. “Look around!”
Jack looked around—but didn’t seem to see anything. “What am I looking for?”
“What are you looking for?” I asked, and then I launched my arm in a panoramic, as if to say, Behold. Terror in all directions.
Now his expression was shifting. “Do you mean…” And then he gave the tiniest headshake, like he was rejecting the guess even as he was making it: “The cows?”
Keeping my eyes on his, I nodded.
“The cows?” he confirmed. “We’re talking about the cows? That’s why you just screamed?”
I tried to recalibrate. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re fully surrounded.”
“Yeah,” he said. “By cows.”
I could feel his tone shifting, but I wasn’t sure what it was shifting to. “There are millions of them,” I said.
“There are thirty,” he said, “to be exact. A herd.”
“Are they…” I didn’t quite know how to put it. “Angry?”
Jack squinted a little. “Do they look angry?”
I double-checked my read on them, just baldly standing there, staring. “It feels a little aggressive.”
Jack turned to me then, in fascination. “Are you afraid of these cows?”
“I’m not going to comment on that.”
