Page 21 of Barbed Wire Hearts

“Are you done messin’ around?” Levi’s voice interrupts the moment.

I look up at him with a smile despite the ire in his tone. “Just about. The mud in my pants is starting to feel unpleasant.”

The corner of his lips twitch but he doesn’t actually respond. “Get up. And I’ll show you how to do this the right way.” He frowns at the baby cow as it moves away from him, as if it isn’t as sure about him as it is me.

I drag myself to my feet, wincing at the feeling of the mud soaked into my pants. Ew. A shower is gonna be necessary as soon as we’re done working. “Okay, okay. So what is it I have to do?”

I don’t know where his change of heart comes from, but something tells me that the man driving his four-wheeler away has something to do with it. Dakota hadn’t said a word to me, but he’d clearly had a word with Levi. I’m grateful for it. At least Levi now seems willing to teach me.

“If you try to drag a calf, it’ll fight you the entire way,” he says. “Clearly.”

“Clearly,” I repeat, nodding. That had been my first instinct, but it hadn’t worked. The moment I’d trying to drag the calf over to him, he started to fight me. “So how else do you get them over?”

Levi levels his hard stare at me. “You pick it up.”

My brows rise. “I pick it up? The whole cow?”

“The calf,” he nods. “Pick him up and carry him over to the truck.”

I hesitate. “Just pick him up?”

Levi’s lips twitch again as he nods and crosses his arms expectantly.

Okay. Alright. Just pick up a whole ass baby cow. That should be easy enough. Even if I couldn’t even lift the boxes Levi had given me.

“Okay, little cow,” I tell him, coming over to pat his head. “I’m gonna pick you up. Just hold still for me, would you?” I squat down and wrap my arms around his middle before trying to hoist him in the air. I grunt with the strain, but he doesn’t move. He only moos at me. “Okay, so not like that,” I say, switching my hands to come around him. “Here we go.” I lift with all my might, but the cow doesn’t move. Christ, I’m gonna have to start doing some weightlifting or something if they expect me to lift cows. I cock my hands on my hips and look over at Levi. “Is there some special way I’m missing? The thing is heavy.”

Levi snorts and comes over. I watch as he bends down and wraps his arms around the front and the back of the calf. Then, without any effort at all and barely a wince, he lifts the cow up and starts to carry him over to the truck. I blink at him, at the complete lack of struggle. Wow. Okay, that’s pretty sexy.

“Come over here and hold him,” Levi commands as he sets him down.

I rush to do as he says, grabbing ahold of the baby and holding him in place while Levi prepares the vaccines.

“So, you just stick them with it?” I ask. I’ve never given a shot in my life, so this is all new to me.

He glances over at me but doesn’t immediately say anything, almost as if he’s weighing his words. “This one is subcutaneous, meaning it’s given beneath the muscle. Then another one we’re doing today is orally. Another is just underneath the skin, the one for bovine pneumonia.”

He goes through the motions, sticking the two vaccines and then squirting something in its mouth. Once he’s done, he checks everything over, patting his sides and checking his hooves. “Okay, you can let him go,” he tells me.

I do as he says and watch as the cow moos, brushes against me for a final pet, before rushing over to his mom. I watch with a smile. Only when I glance at Levi do I catch him staring at me.

“What?” I ask, smiling.

He tilts his head. “You ever worked with cows before?”

“No, this is my first time. Why?”

He hums under his breath. “It just seems. . . easy for you.”

I shrug. “I like animals, is all.”

He stares at me for a few seconds longer before turning away. “Let’s get these other calves taken care of and then we’ll head back.”

It takes about an hour to vaccinate all the calves in the pasture. Once we’re done, I help Levi pack things up and we hop back in the truck. We don’t talk much, only a few words here and there to explain his process. In the beginning, the silence was heavy. Now, it’s lighter at least. I consider it a win.

When we pull up outside the barn, I hope out and frown at a large bull in a smaller pasture. He’s alone except for a small goat meandering along beside him. I don’t remember him being there before but maybe I just haven’t been paying attention. I would have remembered him with the way he looks. He’s massive and heavily muscled, his fur the color of sand. His horns curl up and back, but they’re not so big that he can’t move around. They look wicked sharp though. The goat beside him, in comparison, is small and short, small horns coming up off its head. It walks along beside the bull, both of them grazing as if they have no care in the world.

“What’s up with that bull?” I ask, pointing him out. He looks like he belongs in an arena, not in a pasture. The goat looks like. . .well, a goat. “Do we need to give him any vaccines at some point?”

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