In her room, she stood quietly for a moment by the window that overlooked the back paddock. Trees were silhouetted against the cloud-covered moonlight. There was a mystical feel to the whole scene, despite the fact she knew that in daylight, it was just an everyday normal paddock with cattle grazing its green grass. It was just a trick of the light, she reminded herself as she turned away from the window.
She wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing by letting Ewan come here. He had the power to either complete her daughter’s life … or destroy it, and for the first time since she became responsible for that tiny life-force, she didn’t feel in control.
And that scared the hell out of her.
Thirteen
The mist was still hanging low over the paddocks when they set out the next morning. Dew clung to spiderwebs woven with silver threads, scattered across the grass and lining the barbed wire, like someone had been busy crocheting hundreds of metres of intricate lace and draping it over the fences.
The cattle lifted their heads in the paddock beyond the cattle yards where Jack had brought them up to the day before. Kenzie and Poppy stayed at the yards while Jack and Ewan opened the gate and made their way towards the herd.
Jack was big on low-stress cattle handling, where getting them into the stockyards and moving them around was all done on foot—slow and steady with the focus on keeping the cattle calm. While this theory made sense, it was a little more difficult to put into practice when your helpers were often not proficient at reading cattle body language.
Jack moved towards the back of the cattle, and Kenzie saw him open his mouth to call out instructions. Then his mouth shut and Kenzie saw that Ewan was already moving into position, slightly ahead. Ewan put pressure on the lead cattle, and the rest of the herd followed through the gate.
Watching low-stress handling done by two people who clearly knew cattle was like watching for the first time. There was no yelling or swearing, just a few encouraging ‘Up, up, up’s, and the herd moved slowly but smoothly as one through the paddock gate and into the first holding yard. From there, the herd was divided into smaller, more manageable lots and drafted into pens.
Kenzie and Poppy were manning the gates, but mostly just staying out of the way, which also seemed to be a big help. The morning air began to warm and soon everyone had raised a sweat. The flies began appearing, buzzing annoyingly around faces, while the constant sounds of low bellowing and mooing filled the air.
Ewan pushed the first lot of young steers in need of tagging into the forcing yard, an oddly shaped pen that started off wide but then narrowed as it led into the race where the cattle would then be forced into single file for the tagging, injecting and weighing.
The squeak of metal gates opening and closing, mixed with the hustle and bustle of cattle jostling for position, brought back the little thrill of excitement that Kenzie had always felt whenever she’d been here. There was something exhilarating about working with the dust and smell of cattle swirling around.
The men communicated with a few brief words, Jack’s typical lengthy explanation about the next step or repetition of instructions notably absent.
Poppy and Kenzie were busy keeping tally, writing down whatever Jack shouted out, opening gates and filling water troughs. Kenzie had given up trying to keep Poppy away from the more surgical procedures when she’d realised her child had a fascination with anything to do with farming life. While Kenzie often found herself flinching and deliberately not watching certain things, Poppy would watch with open curiosity, listening intently to Jack explaining exactly what he was doing and why.
Which was what was currently happening as Jack, with a well-practised, smooth action, placed the needle into a steer’s neck, the animal barely flinching at the necessary injection. He then nodded for Ewan to open the crush and the steer calmly walked out before trotting off to join its friends in the larger holding area ahead. Kenzie recorded its ear tag number as the next one was pushed through, and Ewan pulled the handle, closing the gate on the beast’s neck, securely holding it in place to repeat the process.
Jack and Ewan worked liked they’d been doing this together all their lives, and all the cattle seemed to be doing what they were supposed to be doing, unlike when it was just her mother and herself helping. Kenzie had never seen the process go so smoothly or efficiently.
Jack’s dogs played a big part in the process too, and she loved watching them work with just a few whistles or handsignals from Jack; they knew what to do. He’d spent a lot of time training them to work with the whole low-stress technique, having them move with purpose and minimal barking or aggression. As a result, the cattle responded without panic or fear.
The roar of a car engine rumbled its way towards them, announcing her mother’s arrival with the food and drinks she’d stayed behind to prepare.
They stopped for a quick cuppa, Poppy sweetly passing around cake and biscuits. There was a happy, almost festive air to their little picnic.
‘I’m not sure you’ve earned that cuppa,’ Jack said, watching as his wife handed Ewan a cup.
‘Why’s that?’ Ewan asked, sending the older man a slightly confused glance.
‘Well, we’ve barely even raised a sweat.’
Ewan grinned. ‘I don’t know. I think I have.’
‘Yeah, but normally to get to this point would have taken pretty much all day. We’ve already got one lot done and dusted.’
‘Not to mention you haven’t made anyone cry yet,’ Sam put in drolly.
‘Mate, I’m telling you, no one prepares you for working with emotional women. There needs to be a workshop on it or something. It’s brutal,’ Jack informed him blandly.
Ewan chuckled.
Kenzie shook her head ruefully. She’d been thinking about how easy Ewan had been to talk to the night before; she’d lain awake for a long time after they’d said goodnight, goingover the things they’d talked about. It was all so strange. For so long, this man had just been a shadowy memory and now he was real—or, at least, a lot more real than he had been.
A few hours later, Ewan was standing nearby and her gaze wandered from his heavy workboots up his jean-clad legs, one foot resting on the bottom rail of the stockyards. His previously clean dark blue shirt was now covered in sweat stains and dust. She let her eyes follow the tanned skin of his thick forearms partially exposed beneath the rolled-up sleeves. Large veins ran down either arm, risen from the heat and physical activity he’d been doing. His hands, braced on the rail, were large and clearly capable, judging by how deftly he’d handled the cattle.
She watched as he dropped his foot from the rail and straightened, wiping an arm across his face, knocking his felt hat back slightly to reveal his previously shaded eyes.Christ, he’s like a cowboy fantasy come to life …
