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I hesitantly pulled out my necessary equipment and shuffled slowly through the snow. I was doing my best not to trip while purposefully not looking at Weston’s face, knowing full well the grin he was holding back.
But he was right. Drawing blood on this massive bull was easier than drawing it on most of the dogs and cats I’d done it on. Honestly, it was easier than practically every animal I’d ever drawn blood on. Once I had what I needed and it was properly stowed away, Weston moved the panel from Eugene’s side and set it up against the fence.
“I’ll come get that later. I’ve already got all of the locoweed I found where Eugene was in a big bag down at the barn,” Weston said, walking back my way as I picked up my bag from the snowy ground.
“Weston, I need to talk to you about a thought I had.” I slung my arms around his shoulders once more as he crouched down in front of me.
“Go on,” he said, standing up and beginning to journey back towards the Razor. A fresh snowflake settled against his hat, glistening thick and brightly upon the black background. This time I settled my chin on top of his shoulder so I could speak to him easier. It felt so comfortable, and he smelled so nice as he walked forward.
“I don’t think this locoweed stuff is an accident,” I started, and he inhaled deeply.
“I agree. Called the livestock agent after calling you, he’s gonna come up tomorrow. Got everyone moved around except, like I already said, I’ll move the heifers in with the older cows after you come out for the deworming. Later than normal, but won’t be a biggie, I just haven’t had time like normal so your help is appreciated. I also rode along all the fences today and they all look intact so hopefully no other cows will escape,” he answered as I placed my left cheek against his shoulder so I could look at his face better, or I guess it was his neck.
“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” I replied having latched onto his comment about riding the fence line.
The right side of his face lifted in a soft smile. “I figured, which is why we brought the Razor.”
Snow was now quickly falling, adding a thin layer to the path we were following back. “When did you first learn to ride?” I asked, watching the snowflakes settle against his mustache and then quickly melt a second later.
“I was practically born in a saddle. My mom barely rides anymore now that she’s had two hip replacements, and my parents are technically retired, but yeah. I’m pretty sure I learned to ride before I walked. They would strap us kids in the saddle on our own horses, pretty much saying don’t die, and off we’d go.” He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the joy from the memory.
“Do you ride every day?”
“Of course. My mare needs her exercise.”
“You have a mare? Aren’t they supposed to be moody and sassy and all of that.”
He tipped his head down towards the ground. “Exactly why I like ‘em.” A mischievous smile played across his lips, and I felt those same wings dance within my stomach.
Tucking my chin tighter into his shoulder as the wind picked up, I watched him wade carefully through the frozen tundra for a moment. Comfortable silence settled between us as the sky darkened, and the snowfall rapidly increased in intensity. It wasn’t just that the snowflakes were beginning to briskly crash against the ground that truly worried me, but the fact that the wind was also becoming incredibly forceful. Squalls rose out of the blue, and I could feel Weston fighting against it to stay upright.
Suddenly, a gust of wind blew across the pasture. He stumbled to the right, barely catching himself with his hand and arm against a group of pine trees we’d been carefully traversing. A couple curse words escaped his mouth as he glanced at the hand that had caught us. I almost laughed at his reaction until I saw what he was staring at.
A thick chunk of wood was embedded into the side of his forearm. Stabbed through the sleeve of his coat and into his skin. How deep the wound went, I had no idea, but it looked painful. He dropped the other hand from around my leg, gripping the edge of the slab.
“Don’t!” I shouted as he went to pull it out. He paused as I clung to his neck with my arms and gripped his waist tightly with my legs.
“Why not?”
“So you don’t possibly bleed out, dummy. I know it’s just your arm, but that’s a thick chunk of wood and you don’t know if it cut something important or how deep it is.” I replied as he dropped his hand from around the chunk.
“Well, it hurts like some bad words I won’t say,” he grumbled.
“Well, let me take a look at it,” I quickly said and attempted to scramble off of his back. “Maybe I can tie something around it to stop the bleeding and—” I paused as he quickly tucked his good arm beneath my body again and pressed me tighter against his back.
“If we stop now, we will get caught in this storm,” he sharply stated as the wind howled even harder and snow crashed around us. I scanned the vicinity and realized I could no longer see the Razor, nor Weston’s house. Eugene was nowhere in sight either.
Within a matter of minutes, our casual excursion had turned deadly.
“Weston.” Fear laced my voice, and I knew he heard it.
We were already caught in the storm.
“First, Eugene has probably already made his way back to the run-in shelter farther down the pasture. It’s in a pocket of warm air and has all the feed and water he could dream of with a heater in the water so it doesn’t ice over, okay?” he began, taking a step forward after retucking his injured arm under my leg with a slight wince.
“Okay,” I whispered, shoving my face fully against his neck. He knew this area better than I did, so despite my worry for his wound, I had to trust him.
“Second, remember, I was born and raised here so I know this place like the back of my hand. I know where we are. I’m going to turn and head towards my house, okay? We will hunker down inside until the storm passes.” He shifted the direction we were moving while I nodded against his neck. The wind howled in my ears as he ducked his head and shoved forward.
