Page 38 of High Density

Next, she heads back to her truck and opens the tailgate, reaching for her veterinary kit. I get my hand on it first.

“I’ve got it.”

She shoots me a glance but doesn’t argue. Instead, she grabs a few other odds and ends from the bins in the back of her truck.

“I never asked what you were doing here. Were you just popping in?” she asks as we start walking back to the transport truck.

I didn’t really have a good reason to stop by, other than feeling the need to stick close to her. Both because I wanted to, but also because I don’t trust Jericho. I caught him watching us the other day and I didn’t like the vibes he was giving off.

Now that I’m here, I have even more reasons to want to stick close to Janey.

“I’m staying.”

“Good,” she states. “As you can see, I can use an extra pair of hands.”

The truck driver introduces himself as Trent when he gets down from his rig to open the gate on the trailer. He doesn’t appear to be a bad guy, and reiterates he’s only following the boss’s orders when he follows us up the gangway.

Working on a ranch, I’m used to the smell of animal manure, but—despite the ventilation holes all around the sides—the stench inside the trailer is overwhelming. The heat doesn’t help; a combination of the sun beating down on the trailer and body heat from the forty or so large animals occupying it.

“We’ll work from the front to the back,” Janey suggests.

“I’ll wait here,” Trent announces, sticking close to the door and fresh air.

I can’t say I blame him, but Doc needs a hand, so I follow her inside, pushing through heavy bodies and climbing over the occasional partitions, until we reach the very front of the trailer.

There’s barely any room to put down her kit. I end up keeping it slung over my shoulder so she can grab what she needs. I’m also keeping notes on the clipboard she handed me, jotting down the tag numbers and any other entries she wants me to make.

It’s by far not the first time I’ve seen Janey work, but I’m fascinated all the same. She’s apparently as easy and comfortable with these cows as I’ve seen her with horses, and mumbles nonstop, keeping the animals calm as she pokes and probes.

I lose track of time as we make our way through the trailer, settling into an easy rhythm where I can anticipate what her next move is going to be. Even though I feel a bit more accustomed to the heat and the smells, I’m sweating like a pig and my shirt is plastered to my body. Doc isn’t faring much better; a few strands of her hair have come loose from her braids and are stuck to her slick skin.

A sudden thud right behind me has me swing around. Looking over the next divider, I see one of the cows has gone down. Her eyes are wild and her breathing seems labored.

“You’ve got one in trouble here,” I alert Janey.

She immediately hops over the divider and crouches down beside the animal. I am right behind her as I climb over as well and do my best to keep the other cattle away from her.

“What’s wrong with her?” I ask, watching Doc examine the cow.

“Heart rate is up; breathing is shallow and labored. The lungs sound fine, but she’s clearly in pain. Help me try and get her on her feet.”

I hop into action, but with the two of us pushing and shoving at what I’m guessing to be in the range of a twelve-hundred-pound animal it takes a while to encourage her back on her feet. As soon as she’s standing, Janey runs her hands along the cow’s flanks.

“Slightly distended,” she mutters to herself before putting her stethoscope where her hands were. “Lots of bowel sounds.”

Next, she moves to the back of the cow and lifts her tail. “No fresh stool.”

Grabbing a glove and a tube of lubricant from the kit, she examines the animal manually, a deep frown between her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong?”

“I thought maybe she was impacted, but it feels like something is constricting the anal canal. I think I’m going to need the portable ultrasound from the back of my truck,” she shares.

“I can go get it,” I offer.

I leave her with her kit and the cow, and start making my way to the back of the trailer, where Trent is hanging out by the gangway, smoking a cigarette.

“Everything okay in there?”

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