The Bequest
Chapter 38—Abigail

The next few hours aren't too bad-Jeff and Kevin know where we're going, and the cows want to go there. But it gets hotter as the day goes on, and the cows lose a lot of their steam, especially the calves. Izzy and Ethan begin to flag, have one cola, and are off again, like wind-up toys that have been rewound. But as the calves slow, we have to work harder to keep them going, and that's rough because...

I'm running out of energy, too.

Steve notices, of course.

"You alright?"

"I think I've probably permanently bruised Snoopy's back."

"He'll be fine. He looks like he's having fun. You hardly weigh anything, so he pulled the long straw. But you're going to be sore tomorrow, I imagine."

I hardly weigh anything? I almost laugh at that absurd statement. I've never been one of those waify girls. "Oh, I'm sore already."

He laughs. "The good news is, we're almost there. Just one last hurdle to clear."

"Hurdle?" For some reason, his use of that word alarms me.

"The Forestry Service doesn't like having cows in the parks, near any roads, or around any major water sources."

"That's right." Kevin lopes up alongside us. "Our allotment has a specific area we're supposed to start the cows in."

"Are we close?"

"We are," Steve says. "But."

"But what?"

"We're nearly there," Kevin says. "I was coming up to tell you to keep them moving."

"Will do," Steve says.

Kevin's already headed back, and I notice that Jeff's talking to Ethan and Izzy.

"Should I be worried?"

"Not at all," Steve says. "This is the fun part."

"What is this part?"

"We're almost to the first open meadow that will likely be fully grassed."

"Isn't that good news?"

"They won't want to move past it," he says. "So we need to keep them moving. If they stop and start grazing, it could take us hours to get them to move along." Ah.

"Prepare to hoot, holler, and run, if necessary." He doesn't look like he's warning me he looks like a little boy on Christmas Eve.

"You really do like this part."

"It's the whole reason I came." His eyes light up, and I wonder whether that's true. Did he really come along to spend time with me? Or to race around on Farrah in the open wilderness, shouting and being rowdy?

I'm a little nervous that Ethan, Izzy, and I won't be up to the task. What if we let them stop, and then we're stuck here all day with no recourse? Jeff and Kevin both pull whips off their belts.

"Do we need those?"

If you're loving the book, nel5s.com is where the adventure continues. Join us for the complete experience all for free. The next chapter is eagerly waiting for you! Steve shakes his head. "No, you'll be fine."

"Okay."

He stops then, his face turning toward mine. "Abigail."

"What?" I meet his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

I must take too long to respond.

"Don't worry this part will be fine. For all your jokes about Snoopy's back, you've been moving really well. You look like a natural out there."

Uh-huh.

Farrah sidesteps closer, so he's almost right next to me. Snoopy, good man that he is, doesn't even stomp or whuffle at her invading his space. Steve lowers his voice. "Whitney probably would've been fine, but I wasn't 100% positive, so I held her back. I was entirely sure that you and Ethan and Izzy would be fine, so trust my judgement. When we're past the meadow and on our way to the first spot on that map, you'll be invigorated. You'll say, 'Steve, you were right. You're a brilliant man and a stand-up horse trainer."

"I already know that," I say. "Anyone with eyeballs can see it."

"Well, I have a critical horseman's eye, and I'm telling you not to worry. You'll do great."

I nod.

It's a good thing his pep talk's over, because Jeff cracks his whip and the cattle pick up the pace a bit. Once we round the bend, I see what they mean. A long, wide, beautiful meadow with a lovely sprinkling of wildflowers covering it stretches out in front of us.

"We're going to spread," Steve says. "I'll circle to the far side, and you stay here. If I shout 'now,' I want you to move toward me, shouting as loud as you can. It's a wedge movement and it'll get them moving straight ahead. Got it?" "Yeah."

"And hey, Snoopy has done this dozens of times. If you're not sure what to do, loosen the reins a bit and he'll go after them. He's got amazing cow sense."

It's a good thing one of us does.

Handsome Rob definitely picks up the pace at first, but once he hits the flat, broad meadow, he frolics a bit and his head goes down.

He's eating.

But Jeff's all over that, moving him along quickly, before he gets more than one mouthful. The other cows all try to follow his lead, but Ethan shouts and Izzy shrieks. When a large black cow tries to duck around the back of Izzy, Donk kicks at her. The cow's so shocked that she pivots too fast and knocks right into the side of another one, sending them both careening forward. They look a little like bumper cars.

When our part of the herd reaches the meadow, I can't watch Izzy and Ethan anymore, but I'm not worried. Steve's right. None of us can rope very well, but we're pretty good at shouting and racing around until the cows change direction. And Snoopy does the hard part himself. There's a definite benefit to having horses that already know what to do.

Since Jeff and Ethan and Izzy have done such a good job, our cows keep moving, generally speaking, which is great. But a group of six breaks hard toward Steve and he's busy circling around them and driving them back when a big bull decides he wants some of the purple flowers. He pushes past two cows and darts through a gap, running in front of me.

I peel off, Snoopy moving more quickly than he has before, loping fast on the even, grassy ground to cut the bull off. He snorts, and he paws at the ground, and for a moment I wonder if he'll charge me. But instead he merely drops his head and starts munching.

Which is exactly what I can't have him doing.

A few other cows have already started to turn our direction. I can't let the only real issue we've had be my fault, but even when I turn Snoopy right at him and shout, he ignores me. Do I ram him? I don't have a whip.

Then I have an idea. When my kids wouldn't look at the camera, I'd make a really strange sound, an off-putting sound. Every human in the room would always whip their head right toward me when I made it-it always grabbed attention quick. That was, after all, the point. I have no idea how he'll react, but I swing Snoopy around again and I race at that dumb bull, and as we draw near, I make the chirping, dolphin sound at the loudest volume I've ever used.

The bull jumps, all four hooves going outward as he drops a few inches. His eyes practically roll back in his head, and I swear, he leaps almost 180 degrees and bolts back for the herd, the dumb cows that were following him circling around to get into line as well.

"What in the world was that noise?" Steve asks.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," I say. "And don't you forget it." I urge Snoopy forward and leave Steve behind for once.