Page 105 of The Cost of Forgetting You

“Good. Don’t pull till I check her out inside. A torn uterus equals a dead cow.” Dr. Van de Berg unbuttons his short-sleeve Happy Tails Veterinary Clinic shirt and slips out of it, tossing it on a clear patch of ground. He climbs the fence with surprising grace for his age—I offer him a hand, which he huffs at—and drops down on the other side near my dangling legs. “Is this her first?”

“Nope,” the other two reply in unison.

“Okay.” The vet slips a hand in around the dangling calf hooves, closing his eyes as he feels for…well, for what, I don’t know. Placement maybe? “Let’s try with the chains, and say a prayer that this little one behaves.”

I haven’t prayed in a long time. Not since I was a little girl, trying it on for size and realizing it wasn’t my thing. But I say one now, sending up a plea to anyone who will listen to let this little baby make it. I meet Truett’s tense gaze, and he nods. We both need this bit of positivity in our life, this proof that the universe can sometimes be kind, too.

“You two pull while I guide the calf. All right?”

“Got it,” Truett says. He passes one chain to Jason and takes the other for himself. “Tell us when.”

“When,” Dr. Van de Berg commands.

The two men lean back, pulling with all their might. Jason’s freckled arms flex, and Truett’s back ripples with the effort. Sweat beads on Truett’s forehead, dampening his dirty blond hair till it’s nearly brown. I can’t look at Jason or the vet, or the poor cow who bellows as they pull. The puckered line where the steel fence was welded bites into my palm. I grip it harder, my hands be damned. My entire body coils tightly. They pull, pause for Dr. Van de Berg to readjust, then pull again. Over and over with very little progress.

“Can I help?”

Truett opens his mouth to answer, but it’s Dr. Van de Berg who speaks first. “There’s a calf puller in the back of my SUV. Big metal thing that braces on the cow’s hind end. Would you grab it, please?”

“I can grab it,” Tru says, releasing the chains.

“No, it’s fine.” I hold up a hand. “I’ve got this.”

The corners of his eyes soften and he nods. “Watch for patties.”

I kick off my shoes, letting them fall beside the vet’s discarded shirt, and Truett lets out a guffaw that cuts the tension thoroughly.

While I’d never admit to Truett that I was nervous, relief courses through me when I throw open the Forerunner’s back hatch and identify the only thing that could possibly be called a calf puller. It’s heavy and awkwardly shaped, but I’m determined to be helpful. I hoist the thing up and race back into the barn without even pausing to close the hatch.

“Here.” I pass it through a gap in the fencing to Dr. Van de Berg. I have what I’m choosing to believe is mud in between my toes and bits of hay stabbing me in the soft soles of my feet, but I scrape it off on the rough edge of the steel panel and start climbing, this time until I’m all the way over and standing a few feet back from the action.

Dr. Van de Berg braces the crescent-shaped bracket against the cow’s hindquarters, below the dangling hooves. Truett attaches the chains to the center point of what I’m realizing is basically a jack, and locks eyes with the vet.

“Go slow,” Dr. Van de Berg cautions.

“Got it, Doc.” Truett grabs the cranking mechanism and begins the arduous process of pulling the calf inch by inch, now with a bit of the effort taken out of it for him.

“You’re doing great, girl.” Jason pats the cow’s dark hide. She throws her head back and bellows, letting him know just how great she thinks she’s doing right about now, and he flinches. “I know. We’re trying.”

“Finally, making some headway!” Dr. Van de Berg smiles, his teeth flashing beneath that mustache. “Let’s get this little one’s rump out and things should go smoothly from there.”

What was once hooves becomes knobby knees and, eventually, hindquarters. Truett quickly unhooks the jack, and the vet tosses it to the side. On instinct I surge forward and take the other chain. Tru glances down at me, surprise widening his features. Then he smiles. “Come on, Delilah. Show me what you’re made of and pull.”

We each put our whole bodies into it. The chain is slick from blood and other fluids, but I notch my hands between the loops and pull with everything I’ve got. Jason disappears over the fence, and then it’s just the three of us, with Dr. Van de Berg coaching us through. We give it one last yank, leaning all the way back, and the calf slips out with a wet squelching sound. I lose my footing and fall, hitting the ground at the same time as the glistening black calf.

Truett drops the chain, concern lacing his features as he turns and reaches for me, scooping me off the ground. He braces me against the steel fence and smiles. “You did great.”

“Is the calf alive?” I ask, biting a lip and glancing past him to the unmoving pile of limbs and midnight-colored fur on the ground.

“Get some water!” Dr. Van de Berg says.

“Already ahead of you.” Jason holds a bucket up over the fence, and Truett grabs it from him.

I turn just as Truett dumps the bucket of water on the newborn’s head. It lurches upward, head swinging, and sputters through its first breath.

“Congratulations, it’s a boy!” Dr. Van de Berg reaches out to smack Truett’s shoulder, but Tru dodges it.

“Not with that hand, you don’t. I know where it’s been.” Truett laughs, and the older man joins in. The anxiety that filled the room is gone, replaced instead by a contagious joy. Jason and I let out breathy chuckles that turn into full-on belly laughs, and I swipe at a tear that spills down my cheek with the back of my hand.

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