“I’ll take samples.” She pulls bags from her kit. “Feed, water, manure. Lab today.” She glances at me. “In the meantime—strip the grain.”
“I heard you the first time,” I hurl at her.
She cocks an eyebrow. “You seem like someone who needs to hear it twice.”
She scoops manure into a bag, seals it, and labels it with the date and ‘Thunder’.
“We’ll run the fecal.” She yanks off a glove. “If it’s parasites, we’ll know. If it’s a toxin, that’ll show, too. Manure tells the story cattle don’t.”
“I know that.” It comes out harsh. She’s pushing my buttons without even trying. ‘Cause she’s just doing her job while I’m acting like a fool.
Dodge works his toothpick, smirking. Bodie’s by his truck, scrolling his phone that was buzzing angrily a few minutes ago. I’m pretty sure he’s smirking, too.
Bodie waves. “Gotta go—got a colic at Proctor’s.”
He’s handing me off to Sarah.Great.
“Thanks for coming quick,” I tell him.
“Thank Dr. K. She’s the one savin’ your Angus…and your ass.” He’s laughing as he climbs into his truck.
Dodge barks out a laugh.
I shoot him a look. “Make yourself useful and get Dr. K hay and water samples.”
“Yes, boss,” he says, grinning wide.
We have a whole situation, and the asshole is amused. That’s when the seriousness of what’s happening lands like a weight. “Hell. If this is feed contamination?—”
“Then you caught it early,” Sarah interjects quietly. “If you hadn’t, Thunder’d be down.”
I look at my bull—tossing his head, then sagging like he’s carrying more than muscle.
Sarah jots notes on her phone. “I emailed instructions to your ranch account.” She looks at me wearily. “Pull every cow off the mixed ration today—no grain, no silage, just clean grass hay. Give them fresh water, and scrub the troughs if there’s any algae. Add electrolytes. Check manure twice a day and log any loose animals. If anyone spikes a fever, call me. Thunder—watch his heart rate and breathing. If he goes off feed or starts to stagger, we’re tubing fluids.”
She swipes another note. “Tomorrow I’ll bring rumen buffers—baking soda and magnesium oxide. If symptoms don’t ease, we’ll mix it in the water. No antibiotics till we know what we’re dealing with. The last thing we need is to mask signs before the labs come back.”
She tucks her phone away. “Do all that, and we’ve got a good shot at containing this.”
She’s all business—no gloating. Somehow, that annoys me more, and I have to curb it so as not to go off the handle. I got no reason to.
“Look…thanks. I’m sorry for?—”
“I get it. He’s your future. You can’t roll the dice with him.”
She’s right—Thunder and his calves will shape Blue Rock for years. If something happens to him, I might as well torch that very big check I wrote to acquire him.
Thunder bellows, pawing dirt, just a little more like himself. My panic eases. “He looks better.”
“Calcium and fluids kicking in.” She studies Thunder. “Gut’s moving more. Not a cure, but it buys time.”
She turns toward her truck. I hate needing her eyes to see what I missed. I hate owing her. I hate that I like having her here.
“Thanks for coming, Sarah.” I shove my hands in my pockets, feeling gauche.
“Just doin’ my job, Cade.”
“I know, but….”
