Chapter 4: Cold Hands

I woke before dawn because my body still believed it had a barn to open.

The room was warm, the fire had burned down to red coals, and the key was still in the lock.

I put on Margot's coat over a borrowed flannel shirt and went down to find work.

The Ironwood barn was a long stone shed behind the hall, and a light was already on inside.

The beta stood in the middle aisle with her sleeves rolled up and a worried frown.

"Heifer," she said when she saw me. "First calf, and it's coming wrong. The vet is snowed in on the north road."

"Where's her head?"

"Back stall."

I was in the stall before she finished the sentence.

The heifer was down in the straw with her sides heaving.

I took off my gloves and Margot's coat, pushed up my sleeves and knelt in the straw.

It took forty minutes of pulling in the cold with the beta holding the rope.

When the calf finally slid out, wet and steaming, I sat down hard in the straw with my arms shaking.

"Well," said the beta. "You can stay."

"I've done this a hundred times," I said.

"Not for us you haven't."

She went to find towels.

I tried to stand, and my hands would not close.

They had gone white to the wrist from the bucket water and the cold air, and I could not feel my fingers at all.

"Don't move."

Jasper was in the barn doorway, with snow in his hair and his coat unbuttoned.

I don't know how long he had been standing there.

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