The Bride (The Bride #1)(34)

We had nearly ninety calves born so far. Eighty-nine, to be exact.

One by one Jake was hauling them across his shoulders from the pen to the barn. He’d made it through seven. And those seven had taken him almost three hours.

The barn door opened and the blast of cold and fury hit me in the face, but I pushed through it to get to Jake. He was hooked to the line that ran between the pen and the barn. I unhooked the karabiner and he lifted the calf off his shoulders and pushed it deeper inside the barn.

He was bent over and breathing hard through the mask he wore over his face. He also had ski goggles over that to keep the snow out of his eyes.

I handed him the thermos of hot coffee I had brought with the boiling water. Then I said it. The thing I had to say. “You have to stop.”

He lifted the goggles over his eyes, looked at me, and shook his head.

“It’s getting dark and the temperature is dropping. The wind gusts have to be at least a hundred miles per hour. You can’t keep doing this.”

He stood and rolled his shoulders. Each calf, especially the older ones, had to weigh at least sixty pounds. Jake was strong, but no man was that strong.

“It’s too cold,” he said. “And projected to stay that way for too long. We have to save as many as we can.”

“Then let me help.”

“You can’t lift a calf, Ellie.” He barked it. Like he was angry at me for being so weak.

“What about the rope? I can tie it around the neck and lead it.”

He’d shot it down before. The calf would be too skittish. It wouldn’t be easily led. Especially with these gusts, but I didn’t see any other way. “I have to try. You’re not going to be able to do this yourself.” Then I said the thing we were both thinking. “They are my calves, Jake. This happens next year, I would be doing this anyway. Alone.”

He looked at me, and no lie it was so creepy with that mask hat on. Like he wasn’t Jake underneath it but some kind of mean bank robber. A mean bank robber who knew I was right.

“Hook up.”

I pulled my own hat down over my face, found an extra set of goggles and grabbed the rope. Then we opened the barn door together. The cold was so intense. More powerful than anything I could remember. Then again, any time these storms flared up in the past I had been safely inside, while Dad and Jake had done all the work.

Those days were gone. My land. My cattle. My work. I had about a foot of belt around my waist that was hooked to the karabiner. I clipped the hook to the line that ran from the barn to the pen.

Jake shook it a few times to make sure it was secure, then hooked his own line and did the same.

I didn’t have to be told the importance of staying connected to the line. This would prevent a gust from taking me off my feet. It would make sure I got to the place I was going, which I couldn’t see, and most importantly it was how I was going to get back.

Jake moved out first. He knew I would be slower and probably thought he could do multiple trips there and back to my one. Still my one, was one more run he didn’t have to do.

It literally felt like I was pushing up against a wall of wind that barely moved. Step by step I plowed through the fury of it. Finally when I was as close as a foot to it, I saw the fence lines of the pen. The rope line allowed us to climb over it, and into the mix of animals. The line also ran from one end to other so I could move my way into the center in search of the freezing calves. I found one, hooked the rope around his neck in a loose noose, and started to pull.

The calf was strong but I was stronger. I made it to the end of the pen and Jake was waiting. He knew he was going to have to lift the calf up and over. He did, then I was over, and me and the calf were moving again.

I had almost made it the barn when Jake came up behind me. He had to unhook his karabiner to get around me, then quickly rehook. He made his way to the barn, dropped the calf, and started out again. I made it to the barn, took the noose off, and started out again after him.

We had done this two more times. He had brought back three calves to my two but that was because he had to wait for me at the pen, to help get my calf over the fence. I was on my way back to the barn with another one, only this one was being even more stubborn. I was fighting the wind and fighting the damn animal.

“Move it, asshole!”

Like that might work. All it did was cost me precious hot air. Then the damn rope slipped from my hands. My fingers were getting so numb I had no strength left, so I had wrapped the rope around my hand. But it unraveled and the calf took a step away.

I reached for it, but the foot of line at my belt kept the rope just out of reach. I needed to grab it now before the calf moved again, otherwise I would lose sight of it. I unhooked myself and grabbed at the rope.

The calf took another step back, then another. I followed and lunged for the rope. This time I secured the end of it, wrapping it several times around my hand. Only a gust of wind hit me in the face and I could feel myself moving. Although I wasn’t sure in what direction.

I reached for the line all around me and felt nothing. I tried to move forward and reached again, but nothing. I looked in front of me, behind me, but I saw nothing.

Don’t panic, don’t panic.

I shouldn’t have unhooked myself. Okay. But I needed to think. The pen was directly east of the barn, which means I had been heading west. I knew the winds were coming out of the north, which means the gust most likely took me south. If I continued to head in a northwest direction I would eventually hit the barn.