Page 4 of Finding Her Heart
"No, I'm not sure. I can't tell. I've never done this. But it feels head-ish. Nose, chin, jaw, ears, I think. I don't know. I can't see!"
"No reason to yell, Annabell Roe."
"Maybe head, and chest and legs folded back?" Annabell grunted as she sank deeper into the heifer's body.
"Sounds about right. Now, get a firm hold, and pull them forward."
"Why aren't you doing this?"
"Your cow, sister. You are the one who thought to breed her." She could hear the self-satisfied smirk in Benjere's voice, telling her to do things that might be difficult for Annabell to do alone, provided opportunities for him to be right.
Outraged, she responded, "You said she was ready!"
"She is more than ready. But you don't seem to be, sister. This is common with heifers. That's why you were watching her, isn't it?"
No, Annabell watched her because trading or buying milk and butter from others had become difficult. And she missed cream.
In her own home—Annabell knew who she was—this calf would not die. Daisydoo would not die.
"Are you stained? Then a little water does redeem."Her mother's words echoed loud. Annabell grit her teeth, forcing herself to stay where she was not to go and wash her hands.
Her lips pulled back in a mask of disgust and resolve. With her arm buried in cow womb she felt around for the calf's legs to grab a hold of and pull. The young was coming out. She could do this.
She gritted her teeth against the squeeze of the cow's body. Perspiration dotted her forehead and quickly turned cold.
"Work with her, not against her," Benjere said, his directions firm and unworried.
Positioning the cow's head, holding the heifer still, and talking low to Annabell, the bossiest man she knew tossed out casual, unworried instructions. He wanted Annabell to see how difficult this was, but was too greedy to kill off a perfectly lovely heifer and her first calf. Declaring his bony hands too big for the job, Annabell knew he'd do it if he had to. Making more noise than the first-time mama, biting back obscenities, Annabell braced herself to pull that calf's legs forward and make delivery possible.
Her unkept hair fell across her eyes and she huffed it out, blinking at the sweat, waiting for a chance to work with Daisydoo and put the young into the right place. It felt wet and weird and oh, so wrong. But there was no choice but to keep going. Hope for the best.
"I think I did it!" she shouted at her brother.
"Did you? And not rip anything up along the way?"
"What?"
Daisydoo heaved a pained sigh, warning Annabell to pull her arm out before a contraction hit hard. As if the animal's body naturally knew what to do, the front feet of the young followed Annabell out on exit. "It's coming, Benjere. I did it. You don't think I can do anything on my own, but I did it, and you just stood there and watched."
"I helped ya, girl. What do you mean?" He slapped at his thigh.
Annabell ignored him, watching the birth of the calf. It happened fast and slow at the same time. The little spindle-legged thing pushed from the heifer in three heaves, the sack shining blue and wet. A baby.
Daisydoo got pregnant her first try.
Annabell had not. And not any time after.
"A wife is subject to her husband,"Mama said for Annabell alone.
"It takes a bull to mount a cow," Annabell said out loud, the words slipping free from the constant dialog in her head. Mama's shade would never forgive her for not having children.
Benjere quirked his eyebrows at her, looking like a befuddled coop weasel. "Yes, Annabell, that is usually how it works."
Shrugging off the misspoken thought, she watched the cow and her first calf as the crucial first minutes of life unfolded. There was no bull around now to help her. Not that she wanted one.
Cleaning and care. She’d do her chores, take care of her home and animals, and get all the things done. If she kept moving, everything worked out all right.
Don't stop moving, Woman of Woe. Don't stop moving.
