Ember looked at the barn, then around herself at the surrounding land. There was more he could tell her, but he decided against it. She wasn’t interested in cow barns, and he knew it. She wanted to find her connection to her own family history, and a barn wasn’t part of that. Besides, they were here for a calf.
“Let’s head in,” he said.
He matched his pace to Ember’s, slowing down a bit as they headed toward the barn. She was little compared to him, and that floral scent from the truck still whispered close by. He pulled open the barn door and she stepped in ahead of him.
The long, low barn was the place where sick cattle came to be treated or separated from the herd for whatever reason. This was also the makeshift nursery for motherless calves. Casey led the way past an aisle of supplies neatly stacked on shelves, and down to a section of stalls that were set aside for the calves. The ranch hand Greg Stein was crouched in the nearest stall next to a tiny calf covered in a blanket.
“Hey, Mr. Courtright,” Greg said, rising to his feet. “I found it in the south field—the mother had twins and abandoned this one. We tried to reintroduce them, but she wouldn’t take it back. Bert said to wait for you.”
“How bad is it?” Casey asked, moving into the stall next to the cowboy and squatting down to take a closer look.
“Hard to tell. I was just cleaning it off and was going to try to warm it up,” Greg replied. He seemed to take notice of Ember just then, because he added, “Ma’am.”
“This is Ember Reed,” Casey said, unwilling to give more explanation than that. “Ember, this is Greg Stein, one of our ranch hands who’s been here for about four years now.”
“Pleasure, ma’am.” Greg leaned over and shook her hand. “We’re working half-crew, so if you don’t mind, I’ll get back out to my duties, sir.”
“Absolutely. I’ll take it from here,” Casey said, and he watched as the young man headed back out. Casey angled his head, inviting Ember into the stall.
“Poor thing,” Ember said, sinking down to her haunches next to the calf.
“I’m going to go grab a new blanket and get some calf formula to get this little guy started,” Casey said, standing back up.
“Can I help?” She looked up, clear gaze meeting his. He hadn’t expected that. He’d figured she’d want to stand back and watch.
“Uh—” He shrugged, then smiled tentatively. “Yeah, if you want to. Why don’t you use that blanket and wipe the calf down. The mother didn’t clean him off properly, and he’s cold.”
Without another word, Ember turned to do as he’d asked, rubbing the blanket over the calf’s head and shoulders, murmuring reassuringly as she worked. Her movements were confident and gentle, and if Casey didn’t know differently, he’d have thought she’d worked with cattle all her life.
“Thanks,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. He watched her for a moment longer before he pulled his mind back to the task at hand and headed down the aisle of supplies to fetch a clean bottle and some formula powder to mix up. That calf would be hungry and weak, and it needed strength if it was going to pull through this.
When he returned with a new blanket and the freshly mixed bottle, he found the calf clean. He handed Ember the new blanket.
“We need to keep him warm,” Casey said. “So just cover him up to keep his body heat in.”
Ember settled the blanket over the calf, and Casey handed her the bottle. “You want to do the honors? Same idea as in the house, just bigger.”
Ember chuckled and took the bottle of formula. The calf could smell milk and nuzzled toward the nipple. Casey leaned down, grabbing the end of the bottle to get it up at the right angle for the calf to drink. Except when he knelt down to help Ember, he found his face right next to hers, the warmth of her cheek emanating against his rough stubble. She smelled sweet, and he had to physically stop himself from putting an arm around her in that position—it would only feel natural. But that wasn’t his place, and while she didn’t seem to notice how close he was, he stayed motionless for a moment while the calf got its rhythm.
“You have it?” he asked, his voice low, and she nodded, so he pulled back, cool air rushing between them once more. “You’re a natural.”
“It’s just a helpless little thing,” she said.
Yeah, so were the twins back at the house, but she hadn’t engaged with them like this—wholeheartedly. So what was the difference?
Milk foamed around the calf’s slurping mouth and dripped down its chin.
“You’re a person who connects with animals, then,” he said.
“I always liked the idea of a hobby farm,” she said, then glanced up at him. “And I know that probably sets your teeth on edge.”
“A little,” he admitted with a low laugh.
“You never did tell me what drew you to this line of work,” she said, her eyes still on the calf as it drank.
“I was born on a ranch,” he said. “I told you that. It’s what I know.”
“Yeah, but plenty of country boys end up in the city,” she replied.
He shrugged. “True. I like it. I—” He wasn’t sure he had the words to encompass what this meant to him. “It’s like it’s a part of me somehow. When I’m on horseback, everything else melts away. When I look at a herd, I’m already looking ahead to what needs to be done...but it’s more than that. Cattle are soothing. A contented herd almost purrs.”
Ember looked up at him; her expression softened. “And you’re
