Page 31 of Baker
“I’ll ride out after Manfred and his sons leave to make a pass over the lower range,” I announced after a swig of coffee. Everyone looked at me with skepticism. I tapped the cast on my arm. “I’m good. I can ride a horse.” Granny, still in robe and slippers, whipped me a look over her shoulder. “I’m fine. I will be careful. If it starts to hurt too badly, I’ll put on the sling. I can’tsit around with my thumb up my ass when there’s so much to do.”
“You do have help,” Dodge reminded me while stirring some cream into his coffee. Bella nodded before setting a platter of French toast in front of Linc even though he had been the last to arrive. Meditation for anxiety took time, I guess. Ford looked grief-stricken to have to wait for the next round to come from the large griddle. Linc gave Bella a subtle thank you. She blushed a soft pink that matched her blouse and springy skirt.
“Kind of hard to forget,” I mumbled while fighting Linc for the sticky canning jar of Frank Otterman’s homemade maple syrup. I won, but just. “I need to be busy. Sitting around feeling sorry for myself is bad for my sobriety.”
Every head bobbed. They understood, it seemed. Wallowing in the role of a victim did no addict any good we heard over and over in our meetings. Which reminded me that I had one on Sunday night, so just a few days. I tried to never miss now that I’d been dry for so long. Cash dying had been a big jolt, and I had felt angry and hurt enough to need to speak to my sponsor after a few years of walking the walk alone. It was hard for me to get through my thick head that everyone needed someone now and again.
“Don’t overdo,” Granny said with a shake of her spatula at me.
“I’ll be good.”
“First time for everything, I guess,” Granny muttered loud enough for the goats to hear. Breakfast went quickly. Linc and Ford exited to the cattle barn to lay down bedding for the new arrivals. Bella scampered off to the springhouse toting some flouncy dresses that she had whipped up on Granny’s machine. I’d yet to stick my nose into the soon-to-be boutique, but rumor had it, Ford had made a fountain. How he’d done that I couldn’t begin to grasp, but then again my skills ran to farming and notcreative dress boutique fountaining. Or whatever. I’d go over soon as I got a moment.
“Hey.” Dodge caught up to me in the mudroom, trying to wiggle my foot into my work boots. “Did you manage to talk to Ford and Bella yet?”
“No, kind of broke my arm then slept all day yesterday,” I snapped as my boot refused to come up over my heel. I leaned into the wall more and then bent over to pull with one hand. Talk about a monkey fucking a football. Finally, I managed to get it on, but it wasn’t pretty.
When I righted, I sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. I’ll talk to them after dinner if not before. Promise.”
“Cool, thanks. I’m sorry to push, but Easter is less than ten days away, and I really want Dahn to fly out for the long weekend.”
“I get it.” And I did. There just weren’t enough hours in the day, especially when you’re stoned off your ass on Percocet. A drug that could very easily sneak in to replace booze, so that was why I was toughing it out with only some OTC meds and ice. I’d flushed the damn pills when I’d managed to get some time in the bathroom before breakfast. “I’ll go see her shop after Manfred arrives.”
“Thanks.” He clapped me on the good shoulder and then offered to help with my boot. My first response was to turn down the offer, but I took him up on it. Took a little bit of finagling but we got it and with far less blue words than when done solo.
The morning went fast as we rushed to get things ready. No sooner had we filled the troughs for the Herefords than the rattle of two cattle trailers trundling up my rutted drive filled the air. The goats were out in their pasture, nibbling grass and watching with big eyes as the trailers rumbled past their pen to park beside the cattle barn. Manfred Owens exited the first pickup. A huge man with a booming voice who had been in cattle his wholelife. He had thinning brown hair hidden under a red ball cap and five sons who were just as boisterous as he was.
“Baker,” he said as we shook hands. “Glad to see you getting back into the business. Lord knows we need more farms, not less.” Manfred gave my brothers a long look as they ventured over. “Heard old Cash had catted around on your mama but didn’t think he was fool enough to plant his seed so often.”
I thought to comment about him planting his seed at least five times but bit my tongue. I wanted these cattle, and Manfred could be a touchy SOB when he felt his manhood was being called into question.
“Well, he did,” I replied as I introduced Ford, Linc, and Dodge to the Owens men. The bull in the trailer could be heard lowing for release, even though he was sharing a trailer with nine lovely ladies. “Thank you again for helping to resupply my stock. I know you have some of the best bloodlines in the state.”
Manfred puffed up like a sage grouse at the compliment. The cattle in those trailers were good beefers, costly, yes, but if we had a good calving season come January, we could recoup the fifty thousand dollars on the hoof to my right.
“My pleasure. Your granny and mine went way back,” he replied as Granny herself emerged from the house in blue jeans, an Oklahoma Sooners sweatshirt, and a wide grin. “Speak of an angel and one appears,” Manfred called out to my grandmother.
“You go on, Manfred, tell me more.” Granny chuckled as she neared and got a gentle hug from the big man. “How’s Winnie?”
Manfred removed his ball cap. “Not so good, ma’am.”
“I’ll stop by the nursing home when I’m in town next with some of my rhubarb sauce.”
“She’ll like that for sure,” Manfred replied with considerable softness. Then he turned to his boys and bellowed like the bull in the trailer. “Let’s get these beefers off them trailers, boys!”
All the visiting came to an abrupt end. The trailers were backed up to the gate just as Aiden rolled up, looking sleepy but happy.
“Morning, gents,” the vet called as he slid from his vehicle with a smile that made his dark eyes dance. “Sounds like we have at least one intact male?”
The bull was making his presence known with a loud bellow. “Yep, two-year-old out of Goose and nineteen heifers. None have been exposed to the bull until today, and I figure he ain’t got room to mount them in there, so your records should show conception any time after today’s date,” Manfred said to me and Aiden.
“Okay, good enough. Let’s start running them through the chutes so we can start the health assessments,” Aiden said as he zipped up his overalls. The curved chute had solid sides to reduce any further stress on the cattle, and using calm movements, we began moving the cattle through one at a time. Aiden and Manfred exchanged medical papers, registration forms, and other documents that would be copied into the vet’s files as well as ours. We ran each cow into a palpation cage so Aiden could look the animals over, give them shots as required, and then move on to the next one safely. The bull, a big black and white Hereford, remained relatively chill until they nudged him into the palpation cage and Aiden began fondling his bull bits. Being a young bull, the vet checked his sheath, prepuce, and testicles for any signs of trauma, infection, or other issues. When he found none, the bull was then examined for general health and condition, including his eyes and teeth, and then turned out into the holding pen with his new gals. The bull, who had weighed in at fifteen hundred pounds, was probably at about seventy-five percent of his projected weight. So he should top out at about two thousand pounds, give or take a few hundred. All the cattle were prime, and I could not thank Manfred enoughfor the good deal he had given me and my brothers on this new venture.
As the last heifer thundered out of the gate to join the herd and her new beau, the door to the springhouse flew open and Bella stepped out onto the rickety porch. Every Owens’ male head turned as the petite woman caught sight of us and waved.
“Where did that little miss pop up from?” Manfred asked as his sons, three of whom were married, stood up straighter while trying to dust off their dirty jeans.
“She’s a friend of mine,” Ford chimed in as Bella began picking her way to us, taking care not to tread in mud that would soil her purple flats. She had drawn her hair into a soft little bun, something that she did when busy sewing so it wouldn’t fall into her face. She’d skipped any makeup or shaving this morning as we had been rushing her along. As she neared, I could feel the shift in the Owens men as they noted that the woman they had been drooling over was sporting a subtle amount of whiskers. “Bella, come on over and name this bull!”
