Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

“When you were trying to turn the calf inside the cow, was there any movement?” Jessy had grabbed a rag and was briskly rubbing the rest of the calf’s body to stimulate circulation.

“I don’t remember.” Ty felt for a heartbeat, trying to recall if the calf had done any kicking.

“It’s dead, isn’t it?” she concluded matter-of-factly and ceased her efforts.

He ground his teeth together, not wanting to admit the calf was stillborn. He felt he was to blame. If he’d known more, maybe the calf could have been saved. Dejected, he lowered his head.

“Here.” Jessy pushed a rag at him. “You’d better wipe that slime off your arm.”

Her prompting made him aware of the clammy numbness of his bare arm, the cold congealing the wetness on his skin. Soon it would freeze. Taking the rag, Ty scrubbed his arm until his nerve ends tingled in protest; then he pushed down his sleeves and reached for the heavy coat to combat the miserable cold that was finally making itself felt.

“At least the heifer is going to be all right,” the young girl offered consolingly.

Ty’s eyes were dark and troubled with guilt when he met her gaze. He looked at the rusty-red-coated calf with its spanking white face and legs, motionless in death. It was small comfort to know he could have lost its mother, too.

A bitter laugh welled in his throat as he realized he didn’t even know what the hell to do with a dead calf. The ground was too frozen to bury it. Maybe he was supposed to throw it outside for the coyotes to feast on.

“You look cold.” Jessy observed the whiteness where the skin was stretched tautly over the high bones of his cheeks and jawline, and the wildness in his eyes. “Maybe you’d better get some coffee from the thermos by the door. It’ll probably be a while before the afterbirth is passed. If you want to go get a cup, I’ll stay here.”

“No.” His teeth were starting to chatter, but Ty was determined not to leave until the job was finished. Stumpy had told him to handle it, and he wasn’t going to earn a black mark against him by abandoning the job before it was done. But it sure as hell was obvious the girl could handle it better than he could.

“Hey, kid!” a voice called out in advance of the approaching tread of boots scuffling through the straw. Ty pushed to his feet, his shoulders and back stiffening when he recognized Sid Ramsey, one of the cowboys who were always giving him grief. “Stumpy said you needed some help.”

“Not anymore,” replied Ty.

The cowboy grinned, the breath coming out of his mouth like smoke into the frigid air, yet he seemed oblivious to the cold as he sauntered over. “Did you finally figure out which hole the calf comes out of?”

“The calf’s dead,” he replied tersely. “It was strangled.”

“You aren’t supposed to choke it to death when you’re pulling it out, kid,” the cowboy joked as he drew close enough to view the dead calf in the straw.

“The cord was wrapped around its neck,” Ty informed him, defensive and angry.

“At least you furnished us with some more coyote bait, so I guess you’re good for something.” Turning aside, the cowboy spat tobacco juice into the straw and wiped his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, eyeing Ty with a taunting look.

“You got no call to say a thing like that, Sid Ramsey!” Jessy shot the stern reprimand at the cowboy. She’d been around enough of the men to know that their sense of humor sometimes ran on the cruel side. In her opinion, he was unfairly picking on Ty Calder, and it went against her nature to remain silent.

Being defended by a pigtailed girl who hadn’t even reached puberty was the final straw for Ty. “Stay out of this, Jessy!” he snapped harshly.

“Well, well,” the cowboy mocked. “The dude’s got a temper.”

Blood was running hotly through his veins. If he didn’t get out of there, Ty felt, he’d explode. “Just shut up, Ramsey,” he muttered through his teeth and took a long stride to leave the area.

“Hey, not so fast.” The cowboy moved into his path to stop him. “Where are you going?”

“It’s none of your business, so just get out of my way.” Even though the cowboy had ten years on him, Ty had the advantage of size and weight, regardless of how much he lacked in experience.

Without any hesitation, he slammed both hands into the cowboy’s shoulders and pushed him backwards into one of the center supporting posts of the shed’s roof. His aggression took the cowboy by surprise. Ty let the forward momentum carry him past the cowboy toward the distant door, paying scant attention to the surprised and bewildered cowboy when he pushed off the post.

“What’d I ever do to you?” the cowboy demanded in confused anger. “Hell, I was just funnin’.”

Ty stopped and swung around. “Your fun ain’t funny to me, so just lay off.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he challenged with a trace of offended belligerence.

“All I want you to do is quit hassling me and leave me alone.” A rawness edged the rumbling of his voice. “Just leave me alone.”

Ramsey studied him with narrowed eyes but made no response. Ty swung away, that brief flare of anger burning itself out by the time he reached the end of the shed. Cold, tired, miserable, and plagued by feelings of guilt and inadequacy, he walked blindly to the coffee thermos and filled one of the mugs sitting beside it. He didn’t really want the potent black coffee, but it gave him an excuse for being there.