I bet he asked how many head of cattle we have left to work.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he says and turns to Chet, motioning for him to get the other cowboy with us to get back to work. “Will do.” He hangs up the phone, handing it back to him.
I find some butterfly strips and jump off the tailgate.
“Oh no you don’t,” I hear Carson say as I head for the mirror on the truck.
“Relax, I’m just going to put these on.”And then go back to work.
He reaches over my shoulder and plucks the strips out of my hand. “Hey!”
He crosses his arms, his worn denim shirt pulled taut as he looks down at me. “You’re done for the day. Go sit down and keep pressure on that. It’s still bleeding. You shouldn’t put those on until it’s been cleaned, anyway. We’ll finish these cows, then head back to the house.”
I take the gauze off my head and immediately feel blood run down my face.
Shit.
“I was planning to clean it, I’m not an idiot,” I mumble as I head back to the tailgate.
It took them longer to finish working the cows since they were down a person. This set of cows was also extra spicy today, which never helps. They’ve been on this pasture with little human interaction for a while now and it shows. We always try to work cows slow and quiet, but this group has required a lot of yelling and slamming of gates.
Before it was said and done, Carson had a hand slammed between two gates and Chet had to bail over a gate, almost landing on his head. I might have laughed at him.
They finally get done and Carson drives me home. We walk in my front door to find Jessie on my couch eating chips while she reads and my dad in the kitchen drinking a beer, talking on the phone.
He hangs up when he sees me. “Hey, Bug, let me see.” He wastes no time looking at my head. “It’s just under an inch and not too deep. I bet we can clean and strip it. Jessie, what do you think?”
That’s literally what I said. Why does no one listen to me?
Jessie gets up and examines my wound. “I agree. How do you feel? Any headache, dizziness, blurred vision, or nausea?”
“A little headache after it happened, but it’s gone now,” I tell her.
“How did this happen?” she asks.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and fill her in. “We were working some particularly spicy pairs today. Carson was running the sorting gate with Rein, and I pushed them into the tub, heading to the chute. One got turned around, and I thought I’d get the gate shut in time, but I didn’t. She hit the tub gate—hard—and threw me back a few feet into a panel. I hit my head on the lower rung but was able to get up and over the panel before she could turn around and eat me.”
Carson snorts—his version of a laugh—at my description. “I ditched my gate and ran down to her, but Rein beat me there, nearly taking that cow’s nose off. Kacey had blood all over her face, she looked like an axe murderer.”
“I bet. Head wounds always bleed terribly. Well, let’s get it cleaned up,” Jessie says and grabs a bag of things she brought with her.
Of course, my dad texted her beforehand.
Since it’s been decided that I am fine, Dad and Carson take off as Jessie and I head for the bathroom. She cleans my cut then sits on the bathroom counter filling me in on all the hospital drama while I shower.
I make us tacos and tell Jessie how annoying Carson and Chet were today after I hit my head. She laughs when I tell her about Chet going headfirst over the fence.
We’re eating when she finally asks, “Still no call?”
I shake my head.
“Have you tried calling him?”
I set my taco down and sigh. “No . . . I’ve thought about it, but he’s been texting me and I know they’ve been busy and had a few rough days. Plus, it’s only been a week since he left, and we aren’t officially dating or anything. I don’t want to come across as clingy.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re one of the most independent women I know. You’re not clingy. It’s okay to want to hear his voice and see how he’s doing. Maybe he’s nervous to call you—ever think of that?”
“Maybe, but he isn’t really the nervous type. I’m guessing he’s just been busy. I could try to call him when we’re done eating, he shouldn’t be riding yet.” I take a bite of my taco and set it back on my plate.
