“Where are they?” I ask, slipping my phone back into my pocket.
“In the driveway,” Jared says. “I’ll take care of the horses. You better get out there. They were trying to get into the quarantine pen, but Tommy is holding them off.”
I nod, heading around to the front of the barn. My stomach is clenched tight. I don’t like that Sutton hasn’t answered yet. I don’t know the laws and regulations quite as well as she does. I can hold him off for only so long.
As I approach, I spot who I’m assuming is Dr. Reed standing with a man and a woman, both dressed like they’ve never stepped foot on a ranch before. Dr. Reed is wearing cowboy boots, jeans, and a windbreaker. Whereas the other man is wearing polished boots that look more decorative than functional, and the woman’s blazer is too crisp for the dust hanging in the air. She’s probably going to break her neck in those stiletto heels.
“Wade Callahan. My father and I run the place. What can I do ya for?”
“Mr. Callahan, Dr. Michael Reed, Regional Agricultural Health Officer for the southern district.” He shakes my hand and then hands me a card with his name on it. “These are my associates, Mr. Carter and Ms. Langley,” he says, gesturing to the man and woman.
“Pleasure,” I say tightly, though their expressions make it clear the feeling isn’t mutual.
At least that feeling is mutual.
“Let’s get straight to it,” Ms. Langley says, her tone clipped. “These animals are a liability. They should be culled immediately.”
“What animals are you speaking of?” I ask.
The stiletto heels this woman is wearing screams that she doesn’t work for the ag office. There’s something very off about her and the other man with Dr. Reed.
She rolls her eyes. “The cows.”
“Why are we culling them?” I question slowly.
Maybe if I draw this out enough, Sutton will come out and intervene.
“Are you really this slow?” she snaps.
Dr. Reed grabs Ms. Langley’s arm. “Apologies, Mr. Callahan. We’re aware that your ranch has been hit the hardest by this outbreak. If we can stop the spread from here, then maybe we can save the other ranches.”
“And where did you get this information from?”
“Dr. Sutton Bishop is staying here, isn’t she?” Dr. Carter asks.
“She is, but only because we offer an Airbnb on the premises. You didn’t answer my question.”
“We know that you have sick cattle, Mr. Callahan,” Dr. Carter interjects. “They need to be culled so that we can stop the spread throughout town. It all comes back to your ranch.”
“Where’s your proof of that? Just a few days ago, you were accusing Bob Nance of the same thing.”
“We don’t have to show you—” Ms. Langley starts to hiss. Again, Dr. Reed grabs her arm.
“I’m not some dumb hick who is going to start culling cattle because someone is a suit tells me I have to. I know my rights. I know the protocols put in place.”
“You don’t have any rights when we have proof that your ranch is responsible for the outbreak,” Dr. Carter states firmly.
I narrow my eyes. Frank Bishop was the first to report symptoms, so if anything, he’s the ranch responsible, but I’m not about to say that. They’re bluffing with their information, but why? What do they gain from me killing off my herd? What do they gain from Bob Nance killing off his herd?
My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice steady. “We’ve got them quarantined. They’re not posing a risk to the rest of the herd.”
“Quarantine isn’t enough,” Mr. Carter says with a shake of his head. “The longer they’re alive, the greater the chance of this illness spreading. This isn’t about sentimentality; it’s about responsibility.”
“Responsibility is exactly why we’renotculling them,” I snap, my patience thinning. “We’re not going to make a decision like that without exhausting every other option.”
Dr. Reed raises a hand, his tone measured. “I understand your position, Wade, but the board has guidelines. If these animals don’t show improvement soon, we may not have a choice.”
“They’re already showing signs of improvement,” Benny cuts in, stepping up beside me. “Doc Sutton’s been working with them day and night. She’s got a plan, and it’s working.”
