I’ve seen the Stagecoach Pond on the map we have posted in the hallway at the office. Back in the old days, it was apparently an actual stage stop due to the natural pond used to water the horses. The family extended the banks, and now it’s a couple of acres in size.
I reach into the bag, pulling out one of my tacos. Potato with chorizo and egg on a large flour tortilla. I take a bite, knowing it’s going to be heavenly. I’m not wrong. Even the salsa is the perfect heat level. Even though I want to dig into the second taco, I hold back. He doesn’t need to see me chow down like nobody’s watching.
Taking a drink from the water bottle, I glance at the dashboard. It’s hard to be speeding down the caliche road without feeling like I’m going to get in trouble. The security team has drilled the need to stay within the twenty-five-mile-an-hour limit into my head since orientation.
When we arrive at the pond, I’m shocked by what we find. The map may show a large pond, but it’s running low. Half the area is mud, and, at one end, there’s little more than a cow head sticking up out of the ground. “Oh my Lord.”
“She got separated from the herd before the storm.” Addler reaches for his hat, setting it in place. “Ezequiel went out on the quad searching for her and found her like this.”
Ezequiel, the man Sage mentioned with a grimace, comes over to meet us. Tall, with thick arms and skin tanned by the sun, he’s covered in mud from mid-thigh down and up to his elbows.
“She’s exhausted,” he says, pushing back the cowboy hat and swiping at the sweat covering his face. His shirt is drenched, showing he’s been struggling under the hot sun. “At this point, the quad’s just spinning its wheels, and I already busted the strap.”
“Let me get the ones I brought.” Addler turns around and walks back to the truck. “Oh, Ezequiel, that’s Elena,” he tosses over his shoulder.
“Miss Elena.” He offers a respectful nod.
“Hello, Ezequiel.” I offer him a hand to shake. He brings up his hand, showing it’s caked in mud, but it doesn’t deter me. So he goes for the middle ground and offers a fist bump, to which I happily respond. “We brought water and sandwiches.”
“I’ll take a water,” he says, his breathing settling to a normal level. “The food’ll have to wait.”
I reach into the back for the water bottles.
“How did she end up stuck so deep?” Addler asks, coming back with the straps.
“Probably went for a drink and sank.” He tilts the bottle back, polishing it off before crushing the plastic. “The rain we got the last few days turns the outer ring of the pond into a bog. The more she struggled to get out, the deeper she went.”
Addler turns to me. “There should be another cap in the back of the truck if you want one,” he offers. “Just be careful where you stand, or you’ll end up covered in mud.”
“Okay.” I turn back to the truck while he hands Ezequiel a water bottle and the strap. After downing half the liquid, Ezequiel takes his hat off and pours the rest over his head.
“And keep an eye out for anyone walking through,” Addler warns as he pulls the winch line to take with him. “We shouldn’t have people crossing with the river running high, but some will still go for it. We don’t want to end up on foot out here.”
While he doesn’t say it, I’m aware of what happens in the area enough to know things could be much worse, or they wouldn’t both be armed. “Will do.” I climb into the truck, standing on the floorboard so I can look out into the distance.
The animal gives a pathetic-sounding moo as the men approach. She watches, wide-eyed, as Addler pops open a bottle. Slogging over until he’s near the cow’s head, he proceeds to pour water in her mouth a little at a time. After a few initial snorts, she gets the idea and starts drinking greedily.
Meanwhile, Ezequiel ties the strap to the one that broke and pulls until it’s gone under the animal and come out the other side, covered in mud. After wiping most of the mud off, he puts a D-ring through the straps then attaches the winch line. “We’re set,” he announces.
Addler heads back, grabbing the winch controller then comes around. “Get in and scoot.” I follow his instructions then he promptly climbs in the cab of the high-priced vehicle despite being covered in mud. “Here we go.” He presses the button and slowly starts wheeling her in.
Within seconds, the desperate cry from the animal has Ezequiel holding up both arms. “Whoa, whoa. The mud’s causing too much pressure.”
Addler gets out of the truck. “Shit.” He heads back to the trailer.
The cow’s eyes move around, scared, as she tries to kick in the mud again only to sink a little more. “Hang on, girl,” Ezequiel says, trying to soothe her. But her labored breathing shows the struggle she’s had to endure so far.
I’ve never felt so helpless.
Addler pulls two shovels from the truck bed and tosses one to Ezequiel. Then the guy who I’d called lazy and irresponsible, the one I accused of relying on his family name, starts shoveling mud, along with Ezequiel.
It’s a struggle. As much as they clear, the mud just rolls back, trying to fill the gap. The cow starts kicking again, and Ezequiel stops, leaning down to pat her neck. “Hang on, girl. We’re trying our best.” After working to free her for what must be several hours now, he has to be exhausted also.
Addler brings up an arm, wiping his forehead against a cleanish part of his shirt. “I can’t tell where her legs are.” He tosses the shovel toward the bank and starts using his hands to scoop away the mud.
Now, this is something I can do. With a final look around us, I wade in.
“Elena, what are you doing?” he asks, catching his breath.