Snow Blind - Lori G. Armstrong [29]
Paralytic: as the core temperature drops, the victim becomes comatose and neurological centers cease to function. Cold exposure produces excessive urination (diuresis), causing dehydration and cardiovascular complications. The heart quivers uselessly without pumping blood.
Death.
97
I shut my truck off but made sure I left the keys in the ignition before I climbed out. The shape wasn’t big enough to be Dad. I slammed his pickup door shut on my way past and stared down at the dead calf. The tiny black animal was already frozen stiff. My gaze zoomed to the rickety wooden structure in front of me. Not like a barn, not really even a building. The cattle shelter was a temporary break from the elements. It was twenty feet long and eight feet high. Three sides were enclosed, although an inch gap showed between the boards, like in a corn bin. In the far right corner, a couple of sheets of plywood had been tacked up, turning it into a makeshift stall. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but it seemed the wind had died down. I crept along the back side of the 98
structure. Too late for me to worry about not spooking the cows so I yelled through the slats, “Dad? You okay?”
No answer except the continual bellow of animals. I repeated the process every five feet. Not even a blizzard could mask the rank odor of manure and animal flesh. I rounded the last corner, not knowing what I’d find.
Twenty or so head were jammed shoulder-toshoulder, head-to-butt, butt-to-head. I pressed myself close to the wall, hoping I could make the entire length without a hoof connecting with some part of my body.
“Dad?”
Crack. A powerful kick connected with the siding and glanced off my knee. Oh, shit. Oh, fuck. That hurt. Stupid cows made a game of it and I was nailed a half-dozen more times before I made it to the stall. One momma with afterbirth hanging out of her rear end bellowed mournfully, over and over, calling for her dead calf. Casualties were high in the cattle business during blizzards.
I peered over the edge and saw him. His head rested on the back wall. Eyes closed, mouth slack. He could be dead; he could be asleep. Loudly, I said, “Dad.”
He jumped and rubbed his eyes like I was an
apparition. “Julie?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What the devil are you doin’ out here?”
Saving your sorry ass.
99
“Trish sent me. She hadn’t heard from you and she was worried.”
“So she guilted you into comin’ after me? In a blizzard?”
“No. Brittney did.” I counted to ten. Why was I surprised he wasn’t happy to see me? Did I really expect he’d throw his arms open in welcome? Right. And then the cows would sprout wings and fly us to the moon.
“How long have you been out here?”
He harrumphed. “Since first light. I knew we was in for a bunch of snow. I’d dropped off extra hay when I noticed a few of my two-year-old heifers were gone. Tracked them here to find them laboring. Stupid hired man dropped cake out here. What a worthless SOB.”
The word cake threw me and I had to think for a second. Cake was pelletlike food ranchers sometimes used in the winter for feed in addition to hay. “Where is your hired man?”
Dad didn’t answer; instead, he offhandedly said,
“First-time mommas, you never know how it’ll go. I stuck around. Ended up losin’ the first calf.”
“I saw it out by your truck.” I slapped a flank, and the back end of the cow blocking me in moved, but the snap of the tail nearly caught me in the face. “By the way, your truck door was open. Hope you hadn’t left it that way on purpose, because I shut it.”
“Battery dead?”
100
“Didn’t appear to be.”
“The wind musta blown it open.”
A laboring heifer lay on either side of him.
“How’d you find me? Use some of them PI skills?”
“No. I followed the fence line, saw the flag, and voilà, here I am.”
“Surprised you remembered how to get here.”
“Yeah? Can’t say I’m surprised that you forgot I helped