This is the twelfth part in a series, so if you have not already done so, you might want to read Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, and Part XI before continuing.
I saw the dirty look Mike gave Jen as she turned her horse towards the back of the herd: like she had just handed him a pile of dog shit.
I shrank in my saddle as I realized I was that pile of dog shit.
And I couldn’t even blame him for hating me.
Why hadn’t I called? Texted? Sent a postcard?
He had been one of the most important people in my life.
How had I let that slip away?
I was going over and over my mistakes in my mind as I led my horse through the woods, not paying attention to anything around me until I heard Mike’s shrill whistle.
I looked up to see him pointing into the ravine to my left where a calf had strayed from the herd.
“Pay attention,” Mike snapped as I swore and redirected my horse to get on the other side of the calf and guide it out of the ravine and towards the rest of the herd.
Where was its mother?
I was looking around for the sow when I noticed something odd about the fence…
It was on the other side of the ravine and marked the border between Uncle Phil’s pasture and the pasture of the Ledd farm.
Having seen the calf on its way, I went to get a closer look at the fence.
I heard Mike’s whistle again. When I turned to him he had one hand on the reins and the other up in the air in a gesture that said, “What are you doing?”
I waved him over.
He rolled his eyes so hard I saw it from several hundred feet away, but he turned his horse in my direction.
“Now what,” he said as he pulled his horse up next to mine.
I pointed at the fence, which I could now clearly see, was not only broken, but looked like it had been cut.
“Is the fence supposed to look like that?”
He frowned as he took it in. After a moment, he said, “Wait here. Make sure no cows go through the fence.”
I waited, feeling like a cop on a stakeout: like the job should be exciting and full of intrigue, but in reality was more like watching paint dry.
As near as I could see, all of Uncle Phil’s cattle had moved on, and I couldn’t see any movement on the Jedd Farm side of the fence.
That left me with staring at the fence and wondering how, not one, but all three wires appeared to have snapped, leaving a gaping hole in the fence.
After what felt like an eternity, Mike returned with baling wire, a.k.a. farmer’s duct tape.
He pulled his horse up next to mine, dismounted, tossed his reins at me, and without even checking to make sure I had caught them, carried the roll of baling wire to the fence and got to work looping it from one post to the other until it was no longer passable.
“That won’t hold for long, but it’ll do until we can fix it proper,” he said.
“What do you think did that?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. I just hope we didn’t lose any cattle.”
To be continued…