Page 104 of Three Times as Dirty: Part One
I put the phone to my ear. “Depends on which Mr. Holt you’re looking for?”
“Are you Declan Holt?”
Not even a smidgen of emotion or frustration.
“Got it in one, darlin’,” I said absently, focused on the cow again.
She was trying and, from the looks of it, failing to calve. “C’mon, old girl, don’t make me pull that baby. Neither one of us wants that.”
“Excuse me, sir?”
I ignored her, walking back to my horse. I grabbed my earbuds and slipped one in my ear, then dropped the phone in the chest pocket of my denim pearl-button shirt. I dug the chains out of the saddlebags.
“Goddammit,” I growled when the heifer struggled to get on her feet, only to collapse back to the ground.
“Sir?”
The lady asked, but I ignored her as I moved into place behind the cow to check her.
“Are you still there?”
Breech. “Fuck.”
“Mr. Holt?”
“Darlin’, you got one of two choices. You can sit quietly while I pull this calf, or I can call you back, but right now, you’re not my priority.”
The cow grunted and kicked, clearly in distress. I squatted, slipping the chains over the hind legs of the calf, ignoring the woman sputtering on the phone.
Moving back, I sat on my haunches and tugged the chains. The cow mooed, and I pulled. Muscles I’d not used in ages because I’d been on the West Coast protecting starlets caught fire, but still, I pulled. And then I pulled some more and kept pulling until I felt a pop. The mama pushed, and fucking finally, the calf slipped from her body, and I sighed.
“Mr. Holt?”
“Jesus, sugar, you don’t give up, do you?”
“Sir, I need to speak with you about…”
“I promise. Just gimme a moment to check the mama and baby, and then you can yammer on all you what.”
I pulled the chains over the calf’s hooves, and the mama nudged me out of the way, doing what nature intended. I walked to the pond with the chains to clean up.
“Alright, now it’s your turn.”
“Was that a cow?”
“Yes,” I said, swishing my hands and chains in the water to get rid of the yuck. “But I doubt that’s why you called.”
“You’re right. Sorry, sir. I’ve never seen a cow in real life, and here you are delivering cow babies.”
“Calves.” I laughed, shaking my hands dry. “Not cow babies. Calves. And I’m a rancher, darlin’, that’s kinda what we do.”
It wasn’t a lie. I was a rancher; I hadn’t lived or worked here for years, but the ranch was the only place I had that didn’t constantly remind me of Hayden. The place in Vegas, the beach house in California, Walker’s… they all reminded me of what I lost.
“What didya need to talk to me about?”
“Right. Sorry, sir. I’m Talia. I’m a nurse. Are you the next of kin for Hayden Marin?”
To be continued…
Don’t kill me.
I promise a happy ending is in the works.
