Page 57 of The Crush
Daniel
Checking the south pasture fence line takes longer than it normally does, a day in the saddle admittedly even harder to negotiate with bruised ribs and a busted hand than I had anticipated.
Still, it’s not the worst way to spend time. Even if my dad and Isabel are conspiring to keep the pace slow on my account, my usual impatience is kept in check as we stop repeatedly to inspect and tag parts of the fence for repair. My dad making note of each marker in his pocketbook so tomorrow we can come back out with the truck and supplies.
With Isabel riding along between us, conversation flows easier than it normally does, the weight of things often left unsaid between my dad and me lifting slightly.
Beneath the brim of her too big, borrowed hat, Isabel’s smile is wide, as animated as her speech, and it’s clear to me within the first hour that riding is something she enjoys. She’s impossible not to watch whenever she tilts her chin up to catch the breeze, looking so content and free that it makes my chest ache.
“I forgot how pretty it is out here,” she says not long after the three of us stop for a lunch of cold packed sandwiches under a large tree. Her inquisitive eyes scan from one horizon to another. “It’s really lovely right by the water.”
I stiffen, turning my head to note again how close we’ve come to the Rio Grande’s bank. A place I once enjoyed walking along but have mostly avoided since I came home. If my dad has noticed, he’s left that unsaid, too.
“It is nice,” he agrees, and I look back to see his eyes switch from me to Isabel. “Anytime Eli is out here he gives me a full lesson on how the land is still getting over the drought that happened when I was young. Smart kid.”
“He’s always been extremely fascinated by that,” Isabel replies, smiling fondly. “When I was away at college, I would make copies of any reports I could find on it at the library and bring them home with me. You would have thought I’d given him the greatest gift he’d ever received.” Her smile turns sad, though she tries to brush it off quickly as she stands and gathers our things to stash back in the saddlebags. “Where to next?”
It takes another hour to finish checking the perimeter, a little longer to get back to load up the feed truck again for the cattle in the barns as well as those currently in the east lot. As a result, there’s not much daylight left when I finally convince my dad to head back to the house to start dinner, leaving me and Isabel to finish up out here.
Isabel’s just about to follow me out through the gate when she suddenly lifts up in her saddle, turning to look out over the land behind us, where it’s nearly full dark now. “You hear that?”
Immediately on alert, I follow her gaze, listening, but all I hear is cattle and the occasional bark of one of the dogs. “What did you hear?”
“That.There.” She looks at me, seeing if I hear it, too, and this time I think I do. A cattle cry that sounds more urgent than the others. “We should go check.”
“Hold on,” I tell her, but she’s already riding away. “Isabel,wait.”
She pulls up, clearly antsy as she waits for me to close the gate again and meet her, but all I can think is how much I’d prefer for us to be heading the other direction.
Instead, ten minutes later, we’re still riding side by side, tracking the noise toward the back corner of the pasture. Even with both of us searching with our flashlights, it takes us another few minutes to find the hole on this side of the fence that we’d missed while we’d been focused elsewhere.
Past the now ineffective barrier, I can hear the cry more clearly. I can also hear water.
Go. Go. Go.
“Danny?” I open my eyes and look at Isabel, already on the ground and passing through the gap with Reina trailing behind. “Come on, I think it’s through here.”
“Wait.” I swing my leg over to dismount, letting out a pained grunt when I move too fast after her with Sue. “Isabel,stop. It’s not safe.”
“Why?” She pauses, confusion on her face as she looks between me and the river a few yards ahead. “We can’t leave it there.”
Go. Go. Go.
I shake my head, reaching out a hand for her. “It’s too dark. We should come back later.”
“What if it’s too late later?” she argues. “What if it’s hurt?”
She looks so worried at the thought of an animal that might need help, unable to think of a reason for why we shouldn’t go.
I can only think of the one.
Go. Go. Go.
“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath to try to calm down as I step in front of her. “But let me go first.”
She stays put long enough for me to step ahead of her and grab her hand. And sure enough, we don’t have to go much farther before we see a young cow struggling down by the water.
“I think it’s stuck in the mud,” she says, casting her flashlight, and I nod, already eyeing the narrow path down as she must be doing the same. “I’ll go.”
