Two Kinds Of Truth(14)

As I draw nearer, I can see Jamie’s doing his best to calm the animal. His devotion to the farm is clear, even to me, an outsider.

The last time I visited, I witnessed him saving a new-born calf. The latest addition had become entangled within its afterbirth, about to be trampled upon by the herd. Jamie had run between the cattle, shooing the mammoth beasts aside, as though they were overgrown flies. He’d reached the calf and cleared away the membrane from its body, and within seconds had the calf standing on all fours, clear to those who’d witnessed his courage that he’d saved the mite from certain death. For me, I’d seen at first-hand his dedication. He’s simply a natural.

I move a little closer. There’s splashes of red mingled within the hay and I notice splats of blood on the concrete floor. Realisation hits me as to just how injured the bull must be and I grow concerned for Jamie’s welfare. If it gets violent, a kick from one of those powerful hind legs could be fatal. I edge my way to the barrier, which keeps me free from harm.

“Hey, Jamie, is everything okay?”

He turns and his brows are creased with concern. He moves to one side, revealing a thick bandage wrapped around the animal’s foreleg. It’s crimson with dried blood.

“Hi, Maddie. Nah, not really. As ye can see, he’s lost a lot of blood and there’s nae sign of the vet.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” I know it’s a silly question, but I ask it anyway. What can I do in this kind of situation? Make tea?

“Aye, can ye just reach inside my overcoat pocket and get my mobile out.”

He points to a dark green jacket lying on a bale of hay, just a few feet away.

I hurry over when I hear the urgency in his voice, fumble in the pockets and find his phone, quickly passing it to him. We’re both taken by surprise when it rings.

He answers the call and the look of relief is instant.

“Aye, the gate’s open,” and he nods at me. “I’m waiting for ye. Come straight to the main cattle shed.”

He ends the call and offers me the phone, which I dutifully place back in his pocket.

“Is he going to be okay?” I ask, and again, I know it’s a stupid question, but what else can I say?

Jamie shakes his head.

“I cannae say hen, but let’s hope so, eh?”

It’s my turn to nod, and as I do so, a car door slams out in the yard.

“He’s here,” I declare, and dash off to greet the vet. I don’t know why, but I’m expecting an elderly man with grey hair and brown breeches. So, I’m taken aback when I offer my hand to a thirty-something woman dressed in tight jeans, a waterproof anorak and a pair of green wellies. A baseball cap holds back long brown hair tied up into a ponytail. She’s pretty and slim.

“Hi,” I say. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

“No problem. I’m Ally,” she replies in a curt tone. “And you are?”

“Oh, I’m Maddie. Callum’s wife.”

A look of astonishment crosses her face. “Wife? You mean, he brought you here?”

“Yes, that’s right. We’re on holiday.”

Ally pulls her mouth into an unflattering line.

“Is there a problem, only you’ve turned rather pale?”

“No, I’m fine. Is the injured animal inside?”

I jump back and out of her way. “Oh, yes. Sorry, Jamie’s waiting. Please hurry.”

She dips her wellington boots into the disinfectant Jamie’s left outside the shed door and then makes her way inside. I hesitate, as I’m out of my depth here, but I don’t want just to walk off back to the farmhouse. I decide to follow her, in case they need an extra pair of hands. When I reach the pen, Ally’s already assessing the damaged limb.

“Barbed wire?” she asks Jamie, and he nods.

“Aye, it’d come loose up on the glen, but ‘tis fixed nah.”

Ally heads back to her car and returns with an assortment of medical supplies, neatly organised inside a plastic tray. She places the tray on top of a bale of hay, so she can wash her hands in the stone sink in the corner of the shed. After snapping on a pair of latex gloves her fingers rummage through an assortment of drugs, sealed bandages and medicines. Finding what she’s looking for, she turns her attention back to the injured animal. She cuts off the bloodstained cloth from around the leg, and washes down the wound with a hosepipe, then wipes away all traces of blood and dirt with saline and a sterile gauze.

“Don’t worry, the laceration isn’t as bad as you first thought. This bull won’t be going for slaughter. Not today, anyway.”

Jamie lets out a sigh of relief. “Och, that’s guid news, and just what I wanted to hear. We cannae afford to lose him, not at this time of year.” He places a small bucket of cattle cake in front of the crush, and the bull dips his head inside.

With the animal distracted, Ally bobs down onto her haunches and her fingers push the jagged pieces of skin back together.

“I can stitch up the leg,” she says, “but you’ll need to keep him away from the fold for a few days, at least.” As she speaks, I notice for the first time that she doesn’t have a Scottish accent. I try to place the soft intonation in her voice, but I can’t quite pinpoint the dialect.

From a safe distance, I watch Jamie help the vet. They’re a good team. Jamie appears to know her every move, and I stare, fascinated, as they work together. Jamie’s right by her side and holds the bull steady whilst Ally prepares a large syringe and injects the wound with anaesthetic. The animal calms and the bellowing stops.