Page 80 of Secret Heart
We spent all of yesterday getting the calves moved back from the deeper grazing areas in preparation for branding them today. As long as everything goes well and no one decides to be a diva and need additional medication for an infection, we’ll have them back with the rest of the herd by this time next week.
Kyle grabs one of the ropes and double-checks the knot holding the loop. “Molly. 2571. She’s the brindle with the dun calf this year. She’ll probably be a peach for you, though. Her hatred is for Beau alone.”
I can’t help but snicker as Beau scowls. Ethan walks by, adjusting his chaps, dropping a couple of the knives he uses to trim the herd’s hooves into his back pocket.
“If we can manage tonotpanic her calf, that would be great,” he says. He tests one of the temporary fence joints to make sure it’ll hold. “It’s the first dun she’s dropped, and I’m hoping it’lltest sound enough to add it to the breeding program in another couple years.”
Beau’s scowl deepens. “You mean the calf who is just like her damn mother and has it out for me?”
Jake barks a laugh as he winds the extension cord running from the barn to keep it out of the way, and Kyle grins.
“Not our fault you seem to be a magnet for the cows that drop the best genetics, man.” Kyle lowers his hat and then puts on his gloves.
“Well, that just means you get to be the one herding them in here and away from their overprotective mothers. I’ll sit up here and help hold them down for Jake, thank you.”
I adjust my own cowboy hat before climbing the temporary fencing, straddling it like it’s a chute in the arena, the move as natural as breathing. I hook the rope Kyle hands me using a loop on my chaps and then stretch my neck. Beau mirrors me on the other side, sitting on the top rung with his knees spread wide, his elbows on his knees.
Paul grunts as he unlocks the chain holding the nearest gate closed, swinging the metal until it connects with our makeshift chute and then reattaching the chain.
“Maybe you should sit this year out,” he says. “Emily’s probably had all the stress she can manage this month after Billings last week. She’ll skin Ethan alive if you manage to get gutted today.”
The air grows charged. Most of me wants to duck my head in embarrassment, knowing they’re talking about me fucking Emily, but I manage to keep my gaze on the cows and my cheeks from flushing a deep red. Ethan raises an eyebrow as his eyes dart to me.
His voice is dry when he says, “Triston’s the pro here at keeping irritated cattle from killing him. We’ll let him handle Molly.”
Kyle cackles as I frown. Before I can figure out a decent clap back, though, he hops the fence and starts guiding the calves toward the open gate.
The first couple are a bit awkward as we all settle into the rhythm of branding, relearning everyone’s role for this season. It takes Ethan three tries to give the antibiotic shot to the first calf—something Beau chirps him relentlessly for. Despite there being literally inches between me and the calves, I manage to miss the hold on the second one.
“Come on, man! You do this for a job in front of thousands!” Kyle groans.
I scoff. “I absolutely do not. Those bulldoggers are fucking crazy.”
That just has Paul laughing, grabbing his knees as he stops one of the calves from hightailing it back into the small barn pasture. Steer wrestlers aren’t actually crazy. No more than I am or any of the other athletes that compete. But it’s fun to dog on them sometimes, especially since so many people like to highlight how dangerous and stupid bull riding is.
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Paul says. “Bulldoggers are nuts for highlighting shit we have to do all the damn time. But getting on the back of a big ass bull—something we never, ever have to do outside of proving we’re the baddest fucker around—is completely logical.”
I roll my eyes even as I grin. “Yeah, well, at least when I’m on the back of one, there’s four people in the arena with me making sure I have help just in case. You know how many people they have? None. Just their buddy that decided they weren’t brave enough to jump off their horse.”
Now Kyle cackles, too.
He starts to say something, but then the next calf runs into our makeshift chute. Beau snags him, and we focus on business again. By the fourth calf, we’re a well-oiled machine, and themorning passes with little issue. It’s not until we’re down to the last dozen or so calves that the scales tip out of our favor.
“All right. We just have that last batch from the beginning of April left,” Paul says. “Should I pull Molly first or have her go last?”
Ethan looks up from the stack of syringes he’s double-checking against the records he keeps of all the cattle, one eyebrow raised in question.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much will Emily actually freak out if Molly fucks him up?” Jake asks, leaning against the far side of the fencing, the electric brander dangling casually from one hand.
“An eight. Let’s do her last just in case she’s decided Beau’s not enough of a target anymore.” Then Ethan sighs and glares at the cow still in the barn paddock. “And then I suppose if she does, I’ll add her to the cull list. No genetics are worth a cow that won’t tolerate anyone.”
Paul touches the brim of his hat in acknowledgement and forces Molly and her calf back. She eases out of his way like she’s the most docile cow we have in the herd. I can’t help but smirk as Beau mutters a colorful curse.
“Just me. What the fuck does she have against me?”
I shrug.
“Probably all your barn escapades,” Ethan mutters.
