She’s a little tease sometimes.
“Careful with what you say there, Sutton.”
She giggles before going back to taking notes on her iPad.
“What about this one?” I ask, pointing to a passage about bovine viral diarrhea.
We’ve been at this for hours, but nothing fits the symptoms perfectly.
I lean closer, the scent of her shampoo wafting toward me as I scan the page.
“I’ve already tested for that. The results came back negative. While some of them are getting symptoms at that end, my gut is telling me that it’s a respiratory disease.” She groans, closing the book with a thud and leaning back against the swing. “I swear, if I read one more page about symptoms and treatments, my brain is going to melt.”
I chuckle, leaning back as well, letting my arm rest along the back of the swing. “You’re doing great, Sutton. I’d have given up hours ago if it weren’t for you.”
She turns her head to look at me, one eyebrow arched. “You mean that?”
I grin. “Absolutely. You’ve got this determined look when you’re focused. It’s kind of intimidating.”
She laughs, the sound light and musical, and nudges me with her elbow. “Me intimidating a six-foot-tall man, hilarious.”
“My guys jump the second you speak, little commander.”
“Shut up.”
Her cheeks flush, and she quickly looks away, but not before I catch the small smile tugging at her lips. That smile makes something in my gut flutter, but I swallow it down, not sure I’m ready to examine it yet. “You said your gut is leading you to a respiratory disease, but why aren’t you officially ruling it as such?”
“The symptoms line up. The coughing, the nasal discharge, the sluggish behavior—classic signs. But something feels… off.”
“Off how?” I ask, frowning. “You’re the expert here. If it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck—”
“It’s not always a damn duck,” she cuts me off, her tone sharper than she probably means. She softens it with a sigh. “Sorry. It’s just… if itisBRD, there’s usually a clear pattern. It spreads quickly, especially in conditions like this, but not all the herds are showing symptoms yet. Even though you were quick to put protocols in place, the other ranches weren’t. It’s hard to explain. Dad’s dealt with BRD before, so have you, so has Doc Lucy, and yet you need my help?”
“So you’re saying it’s too slow to be BRD?” I press.
She nods, chewing her bottom lip. “Yeah. It’s weirdly slow. And the antibiotics I started them on—they should’ve shown some improvement by now if it’s just bacterial. But they’re not. It’s like they’re holding steady, and that makes me think there’s more going on. Maybe a secondary infection, or even a virus. Could be environmental stress making it worse.”
I scratch my jaw, glancing over at the calves. “You think it’s somethin’ we missed? Like the feed? Or the ventilation in the barn?”
“Maybe,” she says, looking frustrated. “I’m running tests, but until I get the results back, I can’t rule anything out. It could be as simple as poor ventilation weakening their immune systems, or something more complicated like a viral strain we’re not accounting for. I just don’t have enough data yet.”
“But you’re leanin’ toward BRD?”
“Yeah,” she admits, glancing back at the calves. “It makes the most sense with what we’re seeing, but I hate guessing. If I’m wrong, and it’s something else, treating them for BRD isn’t gonna help. It could even make it worse.”
Her shoulders sag a little, and I can tell this is eating at her. Sutton hates not having answers. I move closer, placing an arm around her. “You’ll figure it out, Sutton. I have no doubt in my mind of that.”
She offers me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thanks, Wade. I just… I don’t want to miss something important. These animals are depending on me. You and my dad, Doc Lucy, the entire town is depending on me to figure this out, and I can’t let anyone down. There’s too much at stake.”
“And you won’t let anyone down,” I say firmly. “You let me know what you need, and we’ll get it done. Tests, feed changes, whatever. We’re in this together.”
She gives a slow nod, her hand brushing against mine briefly. “I appreciate that. I’ll let you know as soon as I get the lab results back. Until then, I’ll keep monitoring them closely. If it is BRD, we’ll need to act fast.”
“Just say the word,” I tell her, meaning it.
She sighs, leaning forward to grab her coffee cup from the small table in front of us. “You’re awfully optimistic for someone who’s been running on fumes for days.”
“Delirium,” I chuckle.
