Page 54 of Barbed Wire Hearts

“It’s okay,” I say both to her and to Levi. “It’s gonna be okay. We just need you to do the birthing thing. Should I tell you to push? Is that the same for cows as it is for people?”

I just keep talking to her, trying to keep her calm, knowing this is my role. I don’t know how long it takes. I only know that I need to keep her reasonably calm. When she begins to push, Levi makes a sound of relief and pats her on the hips. But almost immediately, his relief vanishes.

Levi frowns. “It’s starting to take too long. She’s not breaching like she should. I was worried about this when I saw her prancing out in the pasture.”

“What do we do?” I ask, my eyes wide. “Call a vet?”

Levi shakes his head. “I’ve been trained in calving from a vet. We’re gonna help her along is all.”

I raise my brows but I only nod. “What do I do?”

“Keep her calm,” he says, meeting my eyes. “You’re doing a good job with that.”

I nod and continue to stroke her back, murmuring to her as Levi takes up position behind her. He pulls on long gloves that go up to his shoulder and nods to me.

“I’m going to reach in and see if I can check the position of the calf,” he advises. “Try and keep her from kicking me.”

I grimace. “No promises,” I answer, but continue to talk her through it. She moos when Levi does whatever it is he’s doing, and when he curses under his breath, she shifts on her feet. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

“It feels like the calf’s head is turned back,” he rasps. “He’s gonna come out back legs first. I’m gonna straighten ‘em out and then we’re gonna have to move fast. Every minute in there is a minute the calf can’t breathe.”

Panic fills me. The calf can’t breathe? That sounds fucking serious. I consider mentioning the vet again, but Levi seems to know what he’s doing as he starts to move with a little more urgency.

Whatever he does, Winnie doesn’t like it. I do my best to calm her down, to keep talking her through it. She doesn’t kick at Levi, so I assume I’m doing an okay job, but it takes a whole lot of self-restraint not to let my panic infect her.

“Okay. Hand me that calving chain,” Levi instructs, pointing to a chain hanging on the wall. I do as he says, and he moves around again. “When she pushes, I’m going to pull. Let’s see if we can get this calf out of there.”

“Okay, mama,” I tell Winnie, patting her side. “We’re going to get that baby on out of there. I’m gonna need you to push.”

“She’s pushing,” Levi grunts, and pulls gently. “I see the hooves.”

“That’s a good girl!” I coo. “You’ve got this, mama. Push some more.”

“Here he comes,” Levi grunts as he helps her work the calf out. “I see the head. Here he?—”

Levi’s words cut off abruptly and I look at him sharply. “What?” I ask. “What is it?” When he doesn’t answer me, I snap, “Levi?”

His eyes meet mine. “Let me get him breathing first.” He works at the calf but from my position, I can’t see it. I don’t move from where I’m comforting Winnie, because if she kicks right now, she’ll get Levi and her baby. She prances, but doesn’t seem too distressed except for wanting to see her baby.

“Okay,” Levi murmurs. “Okay, he’s. . . breathing.”

Only once Levi deems it okay, I pat the cow and unhook her harness from the wall. She immediately turns to take in her baby. I can’t see it as she leans down to lick at it, only a glimpse of the adorable spindly legs.

Levi pulls his gloves off, a frown on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my own face pulling into a frown. “Is the calf okay?” When he doesn’t answer, I ask again, harsher. “Levi, is the calf okay?”

He meets my eyes and something in there wipes away the excitement I feel. “Why don’t you take a look, Kate.”

I move around Winnie, my heart beating hard in my chest. I see the back of the calf, and then the body. It’s only as I move around fully that I see it. I cover my mouth in surprise as I take in the calf Winnie works to clean up.

The calf looks normal mostly, until you look at its face. There’s not just one there. There’s two. Fused together like Siamese twins, but there’s only one body. The calf is moving though, gently nosing at his mama with what I assume is its dominant face.

Levi pats the mama on her shoulder. “Sorry, mama,” he tells her as she gently sniffs at her baby. “Not this time.”

“What do you mean?” I cry, looking at him. “He’s alive.”

“He won’t live long,” Levi says sadly. “They never do. It’s best to put it out of its misery now.”

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