“No. That's fine. The weather's good, and I'd like to walk.” Luke pulled his hat down over his ears, then leaned over the table and kissed his mother. “We'll let you know what we decide,” he said and hurried out of the house as if a dog were nipping at his heals.
Mattie tucked the baby into a sling inside her coat, and offering Jean a small smile, followed Luke.
Luke and Mattie were silent for a long while, the only sound the crunch of frozen earth and dry leaves. The cry of an eagle fractured the stillness. Mattie liked the idea of living on the farm. She hoped Luke did too.
Finally she asked him, “What do you think we should do?”
Luke didn't answer right away. With a sigh, he said, “I'd hoped that by this time we'd have our own place.”
“It will happen. We just need to be patient.”
“I know that living with my mother would be more comfortable. We're pretty cramped in that little cabin.” He glanced at Mattie. “What do you want?”
“I love the farm. I always have. I know it won't be easy for you and Ray, but it seems he wants things to be better between you two. Otherwise he wouldn't have asked.”
“I don't know if I could live in the same house with him.”
“Maybe this is a way to make peace between you.”
“By watching him run my father's farm and his house...and being with my mother? I don't know.”
“He said he'll be gone a lot.”
“You want to do it, don't you.”
“Yes. It would be nice.”
Luke stopped at a frozen puddle and slid across. Taking Mattie's hand, he pulled her toward him. “All right. We'll do it. I figure you've got a lot of wisdom in that head of yours.” He kissed her gloved hand, then looked at her with serious eyes. “But it's just until we get our own place.”
Chapter 32
LUKE TURNED OFF THE ROAD AND INTO HIS DRIVEWAY. THE HOUSE LOOKED much like it always had; and in spite of the fact that it wasn't his, it felt like home.
Mattie and I will have our own place some day, he told himself. He just didn't know how he'd make it happen. Work was hard to come by in the valley, and though Luke could get a job in Anchorage, he and Mattie both hated the idea of moving away from Palmer. This was home. He itched to get his hands into soil of his own, to till even rows, to plant and grow vegetables, and to raise strong, healthy livestock.
He stopped the car, and Brian ran out of the barn. He was shouting and waving his arms. His pulse escalating, Luke opened the truck door. “What's wrong?”
“The new Guernsey's trying to calve, but she's havin' trouble. Ray's not here. Can you help?”
“Sure.” Luke strode toward the barn, Brian beside him. “How long she been laboring?”
“I think since this morning.”
Luke stepped through the barn door and into gloom. The odor of hay and manure was familiar, offering a sense of comfort. He headed toward a light at the back of the barn.
His mother stood in a stall beside the Guernsey, stroking the cow's neck and speaking softly to her. She glanced at Luke. “I'm so glad you're back. I was getting worried and wasn't sure what to do.”
Mattie stood at the stall gate, the baby in her arms. Susie leaned against her.
Luke smiled at them both, then turned his attention to the cow. “Brian said she started this morning.”
“Close as I can figure. I came out to check her first thing. She was restless, you know how they are—lying down, then standing up, over and over.” Her brows knit with concern, she continued, “Since this is her first, we don't know how she'll do.”
Luke lit another lantern. “Why is Ray gone? He should be here.” He hung the light on a hook just inside the stall door.
“He had a hunting party to take out. He had to go.”
Luke moved across the stall. The laboring bovine followed him with soulful eyes. He swung open the top half of a Dutch door. Sunlight poured into the enclosure. “That's better.” He turned and faced his mother. “Seems to me, if a man's going to run a farm, he ought to be around when a cow's about to drop its first calf. Dad never would have left.”
“Luke, please. Not now.”
The cow bawled forlornly. “Hey there,” Luke said, approaching cautiously. She stomped a back foot and swished her tail, then turned and faced the corner of the pen. “Everything's all right. You're doin' fine.” He gently ran a hand along her neck and across her withers, then rested it on her abdomen. A few moments later he felt the muscles tighten. The Guernsey pushed, trying to expel her calf. Blasting air from her nostrils, she let out a sick bawl. Luke caressed her side. “We'll have your baby out soon.” The contraction passed. The cow lay down, pushing through another, then stood. She lay down again and stood again. Another spasm gripped her. She pushed, but no calf appeared.
“She's been doing that all morning. I'm really worried. We can't afford to lose her.”
“I'd better take a look and see what's going on.” Keeping his hand on her, Luke walked to the cow's rear end. When he lifted the tail, he could see blood and water but no calf. With the next contraction a small hoof appeared but quickly disappeared again. Something was wrong. Probably a leg's bent back, he thought. He'd have to get it straightened if the calf and cow were going to live. The calf might already be gone. Luke grabbed a rope, hooked it to the cow's halter, and tied her to a corner post. Then he rolled up his sleeves, and resting a shoulder against her hind end, he felt for the calf. The muscles tightened, pressing his arm against her pelvis. Closing his eyes against the pain, he waited for the contraction to pass, then continued his search. He found one front leg, followed it back to the body, and felt for the other. Sure enough, it was bent underneath the calf. He'd have to pull it forward.
Glancing at his mother, he said, “I'm gonna need help.”
“I'll do it,” Brian said. “I'm not a kid anymore.”
“Well, you're right about that.”
“Is she gonna die?” Susie asked.
“No, she's not going to die,” Jean said. “Luke knows what to do.”
Luke met his mother's eyes, then looked at Mattie and Susie. He felt the weight of responsibility mingled with resentment. Ray should be here. The cow and calf were his. This was his farm. “I'll need a short length of rope,” Luke said.
