Montana Sky

also fall to Billy. In any case, she had trained him carefully over the past few weeks, with a hypo and an orange, until she was confident that he could inject the newborns with the necessary medication.
    “I’m going on to the next one,” she told him as she wiped an arm over her sweaty forehead. “Ham?”
    “Coming along.” He watched eagle-eyed as Jim pulled another calf.
    It was always a worry that even with human assistance a calf would prove too large, or be turned wrong, and make the birthing process lethal for both baby and mother. Willa still remembered the first time she’d lost this battle, the blood and the pain and the helplessness. The vet could be called, if they knew in time. But for the most part, the calf-pulling season of February and March was the province of the cattleman.
    Steroids and growth hormones, she thought as she examined the next laboring cow. The price per pound had seduced ranchers into producing bigger calves, turning what should have been a natural process into an unnatural one that required human hands and muscle.
    Well, she would be cutting back on that, she thought as she sucked in a breath and plunged her cramping hands into the cow. And they would see. If her attempt to return to more natural ranching proved a failure in the long run, she would have only herself to blame.
    “Ladies and gentlemen, coffee is served.” Tess’s entrance was spoiled when she went white and gagged. The air in the pole barn was thick with the mingling smells of sweat and blood and soiled straw. Visions of a slaughterhouse danced in her head as she turned straight around and gulped in the icy air.
    “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.” No good deed goes unpunished, she thought, and waited for the dizziness to pass.
    Bess had known, certainly Bess had known exactly whatshe would walk in on when she’d casually asked Tess to take the thermoses of coffee out to the pole barn. With a shudder Tess made herself turn back around.
    That little deed would require punishment as well, she decided. Later.
    “Coffee,” she repeated, staring, fascinated despite herself as Willa wrenched a calf partially out of a cow’s vagina. “How can you do that?”
    “Upper-body strength,” Will said easily. “Go ahead and pour some.” She spared her sister an arch look. “My hands are full.”
    “Yeah.” Tess wrinkled her nose as the calf squirted out. It wasn’t a pretty sight, she mused. At one time she would have said that no birth could be. But the horses . . . she’d been charmed and humbled by the sight of a foaling mare.
    But this was nasty, she thought, and messy and almost assembly-line cold. Pull ’em out, clean ’em up. Maybe it was because they were destined to be steaks on a platter, she considered. Then she shook her head and handed a cup of coffee to Billy. Or maybe she just didn’t like cows.
    They were, in her opinion, too big, too homely, and too desperately uninteresting.
    “Wouldn’t mind a cup of that,” Jim said, and his eyes twinkled at her. “We could switch places a minute. It’s not as hard as it looks.”
    “I’ll pass, thanks.” And she smiled back at him, giving him a steaming cup so he could take a breather. It no longer insulted her to be considered an ignorant greenhorn. In fact, at the moment Tess thought it was a distinct advantage.
    “How come they can’t just push the calves out themselves?” she asked him.
    “Too big.” Grateful, he gulped down the coffee. Even the burning of his tongue was welcome.
    “Well, horses have pretty big foals, and when we’re in the foaling stall we mostly just stand by and watch.”
    “Too big,” he reiterated. “With the growth hormones we give them, cows can’t throw off calves by themselves. So we pull ’em.”
    “But what if it happens when nobody’s around to . . . pull?”
    “Bad luck.” He handed back an empty cup. She didn’t want to think about what was smeared on the outside.
    “Bad luck,” she repeated. Because that didn’t bear thinking about either, she left the thermoses and cups and went outside again.
    “Your sister’s all right, Will.”
    Willa shot a half smile at Jim and took a moment to pour herself coffee. “She’s not all bad.”
    “Wanted to puke when she walked in,” he pointed out. “I figured she’d haul ass back to the house, but she didn’t.”
    “Maybe she could help out in here.” Billy grinned. “I can’t see her sticking her hands in a cow’s hole, but she might could