This is the twenty-ninth 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, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part XIV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII, Part XXVIII, and Part XXIX before continuing.
“What in the Sam Hill,” Chad cried as he watched Uncle Phil spin away from him.
I was frozen with horror, unable to do anything but watch as the cows and their massive bodies pushed Uncle Phil up against the fence and out towards the pasture.
Phil had almost reached the pasture when the herd thinned enough to release him from the gate, at which point he crumpled to the ground.
I screamed his name and ran to him, praying to a God I didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t be dead.
As I hopped over the fence, I saw him coughing and clutching his ribs and I sent a prayer of thanks that he was still breathing.
“Can you move?”
“I can move,” he wheezed, making the statement less than convincing.
“What in the hell are you doin’ on my property!”
“I don’t know, Chad,” I yelled in his face. “What were you doing on his property last night?”
That shut him up, at least long enough for me to drape one of Uncle Phil’s arms over my shoulders and help him to his feet.
“You said you were lost.”
“And you stole Phil’s cattle.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“Actually, we can,” Michael said as he emerged from the barn, waving his phone back and forth. “I got all the evidence right here, and I’ve already emailed it to Jen.”
“You — I — Get off my property!”
“Gladly,” Michael said as he wrapped Uncle Phil’s other arm around his neck and we both helped him to my car.
Uncle Phil, as it turned out, had three broken ribs and a whole lot of bruises.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t worse,” said Michael as we gathered around Phil’s hospital bed.
“I don’t feel very lucky,” said Uncle Phil.
“I get that. Our stealth missions could definitely use some work.”
“Did you really get the evidence and send it to Jen?”
“Get the evidence? Yes. Send it to Jen? That part I made up so Chad wouldn’t try to destroy my phone.”
“Well, you might want to send it to her, or at least email it to one of us. We can’t risk losing them if anything happens to your phone.”
“On it.” Michael was still tapping on his phone’s screen as he said. “What about the photos on your phone?”
“I lost my phone when the cows shoved me up against the fence. It must be trampled to phone dust by now.”
“OK, so it could have gone better,” I admitted.
Michael and Uncle Phil both laughed, which was quickly cut off when Uncle Phil groaned and clutched his sides.
“Maybe take it easy on the jokes for a while,” said Michael.
“I guess that means cartoons are off the menu,” I said.
Both men looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Since when were cartoons on the menu,” said Uncle Phil.
“Since I discovered a whole bunch of old Looney Tunes on YouTube.”
“What kind of an adult watches cartoons?”
“This kind of adult,” I said, pointing at myself.
He huffed a laugh like I had made another joke, but I assure you I hadn’t.
Michael just kept looking at me as though he was reassessing everything he had thought he knew about me.
To be continued…