“Because she’s sad,” Mr. Crawford added.
“Would you stop pretending that a cow can have feelings.”
“I’m not pretending. It’s lunacy to think a cow can’t have feelings.”
“Not this argument again,” Mrs. Crawford mumbled as she and her husband bickered back and forth about the emotional intelligence of farm animals.
Louisa couldn’t help but be entertained as the couple argued, while she ate her toast that had been slathered with butter and blackberry jam. After breakfast, she decided that her first order of business would be to visit the sad cow. But she had not expected a menagerie.
The stables sat at the far end of the property, to the west. A newly built horse paddock stood behind a freshly whitewashed barn with a thatched roof. It had only taken her about fifteen minutes to walk from the main house, but to Louisa’s astonishment, there were dozens of animals moving in and out of the barn of their own volition. At least two dozen ducks and chickens were scratching and eating dried oats that had been cast all over the dry dirt just outside of the barn door.
Without any footmen or tenants to guide her or tell her where to go, Louisa almost felt like she was trespassing. Of course, that was silly. She was the lady of the house after all. Still,she was tentative when she entered the barn, for fear that she might startle any of the animals within.
Of course, she needn’t have been so worried. For there in the very first stall to her left stood Rhys, petting the cow’s forehead as it ate something from his hand.
“Oh. I didn’t know you were here,” she said as she turned to leave.
“It’s all right,” he said instantly, causing her to stop. She glanced at him and he bent his head to the side. “What are you doing out here?”
“Well, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford were telling me about the sad cow, and I thought I might, well, see for myself.” She took a step forward. “Is that her?”
He nodded.
“This is Honey.”
“Honey? What a sweet name,” she said coming forward. Gently, she lifted her hand and with an encouraging nod from Rhys, she touched the animal’s nose. “Oh my, she’s so soft.”
“She is.”
Louisa continued to pet her for a few moments before continuing.
“Is she really sad or is Mr. Crawford having a laugh at my expense?”
“Oh no. Mr. Crawford believes she’s quite depressed. But I’m afraid there’s no helping it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t speak cow,” he said, which caused her to laugh.
The smile that appeared on his face gave Louisa an outrageous feeling of contentment. Would that she could bask in his smile forever, she thought, before remembering their conversation.
“No, of course you don’t. But perhaps she would like a friend? Maybe another cow or two? I imagine it would be lonely, particularly when all the other animals seem to have friends.”
He glanced at her.
“Do you really believe that animals like Honey can be depressed?”
“I don’t see why not. They’re no less real than you and I. They eat, breathe, and sleep. It would make sense that they would feel things like happiness or discontentment.” She looked deeply into one of Honey’s large, black eyes. “Truly, we know that dogs can be happy, sad, and the like. I don’t see why cows would be any different. Or any animal for that matter.”
He nodded.
“I suppose you’re right.”
Louisa watched her husband as he patted Honey’s head and bent down to grab a wooden bucket of oats.
“May I ask you something?”
He glanced up.
