Page 32 of Dust Storm

Her eyes widened slightly. “All night?”

“This isn’t a nine-to-five, Cass.” I slid off the seat and offered a hand to help her down.

Cassandra ignored my polite hand, and opted to wobble off the seat like a newborn giraffe.

Now it wasn’t just cattle staring at us.

“Morning,” CJ said as he walked across the grass. He gripped the crown of his hat and lifted it toward Cassandra. “Ma’am.”

“At least he didn’t saygoodmorning, because we all know it’s not,” Cassandra muttered.

“How’d it go?” I asked, shouldering the supply bag and following him to a shrouded area where the mother had sought coverage to give birth. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Cassandra was following. “C’mon, Ms. Parker.”

She picked up her pace.

“Nothing abnormal. Calf was born around three this morning. Momma licked him clean and let him nurse.”

“Afterbirth?” I asked as we trudged along.

“Expelled the placenta about two hours later and then ate it,” Carson said.

Cassandra dry heaved.

Sure enough, there was a newborn standing beneath the white and reddish-brown cow, latched to the udder. The momma was seemingly unbothered by me approaching, but I could sense her eyes on me.

Cassandra watched while I made quick work of tagging the calf’s ear and administering a round of vaccines to keep it and the herd healthy.

Cassandra stayed close while I checked in with the men on horseback. I studied the herd, looking for anything abnormal, and checked over the pasture.

I sent a handful of them on errands—fixing fences and repairing the storage buildings.

Everyone eyed Cassandra with distrust. Even the cows.

I didn’t exactly blame them.

“Nothing like being acutely aware of everyone talking about you in front of your back,” Cassandra said when I told her to get back onto the ATV.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“They’re pissed I brought the ATV out here.”

“Why?”

“The engine makes the herd antsy. Horses are safer for cowboys. If a cow decides to charge, it’s easier to get out of the way. We try to keep things low-stress when we’re working cattle. It’s a lot like life. We put gentle pressure on them, and guide them rather than forcing them to go where we want them to go. I’ve learned my best parenting tactics from animals.”

She blinked, unimpressed. “Yeah, this isn’t 1812. If you could stop speaking in spooky cowboy proverbs, that would be great.”

I kept my eyes on hers, rather than looking down the deep “V” of her blouse like I wanted to. “Get on the seat, Cass.”

She rolled her eyes and plopped down. “It’s Cassandra.”

I deposited her back at the office, leaving her to the near dial-up internet while I puttered around the shop, fixing machinery and making sure the vehicles were in good working order.

Cassandra deemed the one o’clock hour a working lunch and demanded a look at the books to see the kind of budget she had.

I was fine with it as long as it kept her from complaining for ten minutes.

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