Luciana, who was about to kneel next to me, freezes. She suddenly looks far warier about approaching the cow from behind.
“It’ll be okay,” I reassure. “Come on.”
Slowly, looking like she would rather be anywhere than here, Luciana sits down on the short, sturdy stool she found, the bucket at her feet.
“Milking a cow isn’t as easy as people make it look,” I say. “It looks like you gave her a wash this morning, so her udder is clean, which is good. Now, do you have any rubber gloves?”
“Uh…” Luciana looks around. “I think my father kept them on a shelf in here…”
After a moment, we find the shelf tucked away in the corner. The box of gloves is stashed with everything else that has been piled on there, and I hear Luciana mutter something under her breath about chaotically messy fathers.
“Put these on,” I say to her, taking a pair for myself. When we’re settled around, I wrap my hand lightly around a teat. “Alright, we have to strip it first.” Luciana goes faintly green and I roll my eyes at her. “Not what you’re thinking, city girl. We just need to give each teat a few tugs to let any dirty milk out first.”
Luciana leans forward slightly as I tug expertly on the teat and twisting my wrist, pinching the teat just enough for a small squirt of milk to splash on the barn floor. The cow shifts a little, likely at the odd sensation, but otherwise doesn’t seem to care.
“Suddenly, this seems a little gross,” Luciana says with a reluctant smile.
“Most farm work is,” I grin at her. “Better get used to that if you stay here.”
Luciana smiles slightly at that. I’m suddenly filled with the burning desire to ask her if she is going to stay. My concentration on the cow slips and I lean forward, my mouth opening.
Several things happen at once. I tug too hard on the teat, making milk spray out in a thin stream. My hand has moved as I did, and the teat is now pointing at me, and I jerk backwards at the unexpected sensation, accidentally grabbing the teat too tight. The cow moos deeply, and I know I’ve caused her some pain.
Luciana, startled, jumps to her feet and knocks the metal bucket over. This is enough for the poor cow, she kicks out, missing us both but getting the stool, which Luciana falls over with a yelp, reaching up to grab at me. But I’m still trying to wipe the milk off and, when Luciana’s hand catches my shirt and tugs, I lose my balance too.
We both go down in a flail of limbs and squawks, trying to move away from each other while, at the same time, getting ourselves more and more tangled. It’s stupid and childish, and I feel a zing of attraction shoot me as her lower body shifts against mine, unintentionally rubbing against me.
Feeling myself start to harden like an inexperienced adolescent boy, I panic and shove her away, finally freeing us from one another. We both scramble back and stare, panting.
Luciana is a mess. Hay and dirt are all through her hair and some of the milk that was on the ground made it to her shirt. My eyes are drawn to a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and I can’t help but think how attractive she is right now.
As for me, I doubt I look my best. In hindsight, I’m hoping this will probably all be very funny. Right now, however, a scowl is crossing Luciana’s face.
“What the hell was that?” she demands.
“Unfortunate,” I quip, the word spilling from my lips before my brain can tell me to stop.
It was definitely the wrong thing to say. Luciana stands and brushes herself off as much as she can, glaring.
“Thank you for your offer to help, but I think you need to go,” she says.
Well, this is definitely a record. I’ve never actually been kicked out of a woman’s house on the first day we met. I feel like a fool, especially since everything about that accident was my fault.
“Right,” I say. “I’ll see you around.”
I turn and I’m not surprised when I hear her mutter ‘I hope not’ as I leave. That could definitely have gone better.
So much for trying to help. All I’m left with now is a neighbour that doesn’t want to see me, and a pissed off brother who will probably lecture me the moment I walk through the door.
I sigh and walk away. I’ll try and apologise to Luciana another day. For now, I need to try and placate my brother and get over my embarrassment.
Luciana
Caring for the horses
· Regular exercises are needed; if you don’t ride them, make sure they have a large enough area to roam in
· On clear days, allow them to roam in the field
· Make sure there is a good, clean supply of hay in their stalls at all times
· Keep their water clean and filled
· Speak to Kain Johns about trimming hooves every six weeks
· I’ve written the name of our horse’s dentist and doctor; check with them regarding their teeth, vaccinations and general health care as soon as you can
· Check on them daily
*For Rainbow, she must stretch her wings at least once a day in the yard. If she refuses to do so herself, you will have to help her
I sigh and close the journal, rubbing my temples. So much information. I never even knew horse hooves needed to be trimmed, and I have no idea how to tell if a horse’s teeth are normal or not.
And that’s not even beginning to talk about the damn Pegasus that had almost given me a heart attack the first time I met all the horses. My father hadn’t written anything about a special dentist or doctor for Rainbow, so maybe the numbers I’ve got already knew about them.
I slump back in my chair and look unseeingly up at the ceiling. Just how many people were actually aware of this entire thing? As far as I knew, a Pegasus and a Peryton were mythical creatures, and I had continued on in that assumption until I found them in the barn. And there’s many, many other creatures here that really shouldn’t exist.
How had my father found these creatures? His journal doesn’t once say anything about how any of this had happened. It’s just lists of the general care for each animal and, as grateful as I am for the advice, especially since I’ve never cared for an animal before, it doesn’t help the curiosity that has begun to burn within me.
But, unless the journal can give me the answers, I’m probably never going to find out. My father is gone, and I never knew him. It feels a little awkward to think of that so coldly, but I don’t have that many memories of him. Most of my life was spent in Brazil, and my mother never liked to speak of him before her death. After I’d grown up, we had started to connect again, but it wasn’t a very personal relationship. I feel the heavy sense of loss for someone who brought me into the world but, otherwise, I didn’t know him.
Being here, on this farm, and reading his meticulous notes told me that more than ever. He’s led an entire life where he found and protected creatures that the rest of the world didn’t even know about. Is this why he hid himself away? He chose these creatures over me and my mom?
I look down at the journal. The other strange thing about my father is the very existence of this journal. He had written this to me. The details are clear and concise, and it’s easy to understand and follow his directions. But I have never been here. I knew nothing of his animals. So why did he write down the instructions, almost as though he knew I would be coming here upon his death?