1. Orphan Calf
Chapter One
Circle C Ranch, California, Fall 1879
Andi Carter heard the soft cry before she saw what made it. “What’s that?”
“Huh?” Her good friend Cory Blake tossed his fishing line back into the muddy, shallow water. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Well, I did.” Andi dropped her pole on the creek bank and stood up. “It sounds like a lost calf.”
“A lost calf? Are you kidding me?” Cory squinted up at her. “This is a cattle ranch, Andi. Calves don’t get lost.”
“How would you know?” Andi said. “You’re from—”
Mooo.
She gasped. “There it is again.”
Andi whirled and started toward the sound. When she rounded a clump of manzanita, a large brown-and-white cow swung her horns at Andi.
Andi stopped short and backed up a few steps. This mama meant business.
No wonder. Twin calves—one black with a white face and the other white with brown splotches—stood by the cow’s side, wobbly but determined to stay on their feet. With one more threatening swing of her short-but-deadly horns, Mama began lumbering back toward the herd.
The new calves hurried to catch up.
Andi sighed. There’s nothing prettier than the sight of newborn calves or foals, she thought. This little family was no exception. The twins looked barely a day old. They were small, which wasn’t unusual for a twin birth.
“I told you so,” Cory said, coming up beside Andi. “A cow and a couple of calves.” He turned to go. “I’m more interested in the fish that might be nibbling on my bait.”
“What fish?” Andi shook her head in disappointment. “The creek is so low, I don’t know why we bothered to come all this way.” She shot a final happy glance at the cow and her newborns.
Mooo.
Andi froze mid-step. That tiny sound had come from nearby. “Wait, Cory. I think there’s another calf around here.”
Cory’s gaze shot to the cow and her twins, and then back to Andi. “No, it must be an echo. She’s got both her babies.”
Andi ignored Cory’s sensible words and took off running toward the tiny sound. Pushing past the tall, golden grass, she made a complete circle of the area. Then oof! She tripped over what looked like an old, blackened piece of oak tree.
The dead wood moved. Moo.
“Cory!” Andi brushed grass and twigs from her clothes and rose to her knees. She stared at the tiny calf. Where in the world had this baby come from? Where was his mother?
She shaded her eyes and spotted the cow and her twins. Both calves jumped and ran to keep up with mama. “Triplet calves? That’s impossible.”
But her eyes told her a different story.
Cory dropped down beside her and whistled. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
Andi suppressed a giggle. Even if triplets were as common as mountain snow, Cory would not have heard about it. He was a town boy.
She didn’t tease Cory. Honestly, she had never heard of such a thing, either. Chad or Mitch had never brought up the subject of triplet calves during supper conversations. “They must be really rare,” she decided. “You know, like twin foals. If triplets calves are born, one or more probably dies.”
A new thought whirled. Maybe triplet calves aren’t as rare as ranchers think.
Andi gazed at the distant herd. Mama cow and her twins mingled with the other cattle. If a cowhand circled this small herd, he would see exactly what he expected to see—cows and calves. He would not question if a twin might actually be a triplet.
No, the tiny triplet had been left behind. But why?
Andi stroked the calf’s knobby head. “What’s the trouble, little fella? Can’t you keep up?”
The calf looked at her with dark, alert eyes. He lay curled up in the hot sun, unmoving. Then he thrust his nose forward. A tiny moo escaped.
Andi’s heart melted, and she looked at Cory. “We’ve gotta get this calf out of the sun before he shrivels up and dies.”
Cory’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding.”
Andi scowled. This was the second time Cory had accused her of joking around. It wasn’t funny this time. “No, I’m not kidding.” She flipped a dark braid out of her face. “I’m perfectly serious.”
“Maybe you’d better leave him here. The cow will come back for him.”
Andi paused. Cory might have a point, even for a town kid. Cows often hid their calves and knew right where to find them later.
But here? Out in the open? This was no hiding place. This was an oven.
Worse . . . what if the calf truly was a triplet and too weak to follow his mother?
Andi set her jaw. She knew what happened to abandoned calves. It was not going to happen to this little fellow, not if she had any say-so about it. “I’m not going to leave this calf out here to die a horrible death under this blistering sun.”
“Where do you plan on taking him?” Cory asked.
“Back to the ranch, of course. He can share Taffy’s stall. She’s hardly in it this time of year. I’ll put fresh straw down, find some milk, and give this calf a fighting chance.”
Just then, the calf tried to stand. He made it halfway to his feet, wobbled, and collapsed back to the ground.
Andi’s gaze flicked to the herd. Mama and the twins had pushed their way into the group. The calves, although lanky and uncoordinated, showed no sign of falling to the ground.
Something was wrong with calf number three.
“He looks kind of puny,” Cory remarked.
“There’s nothing wrong with this baby that a little warm milk can’t fix,” Andi insisted. She jammed her hands on her hips. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Cory sighed and rose to his feet. “Sure, Andi. What do you want me to do?”
Chapter Two
The calf couldn’t have weighed more than thirty or thirty-five pounds, but he was too heavy for Andi to lift. “I’ll bring Taffy over,” she said. “We can put the calf across her withers. Then we’ll take it easy all the way home.”
Cory looked doubtful, but he shrugged. “Whatever you say. It’s your calf.”
A sudden worry pinched Andi’s thoughts. What will Chad say?
She pushed the worry aside. Under normal circumstances, she would leave the calf. Mama cow knew what she was doing.
Clearly, this situation was an exception. Even if Mama returned, the calf was too weak to stand up and nurse. The hot California sun would suck him dry in a few short hours. He’d most likely be dead by nightfall. If he didn’t die outright, he would end up as a pesky coyote’s supper.
She shuddered and looked up. Two turkey buzzards circled overhead. Did they sense an easy meal in their future?
“You can’t have him!” she shouted at the ugly, red-headed vultures.
“Who are you yelling at?” Cory demanded.
Andi pointed to the sky. “They’re always on the lookout for a dead critter. They’ll pick the bones clean in less than a week. I despise vultures.” She rose in a huff and stalked off toward the muddy creek, whistling for Taffy.
The faithful palomino mare looked up from where she grazed under an oak tree, whinnied, and trotted over.
“Come on, girl. We have work to do.”
Taffy obediently followed Andi back to where Cory kept watch over the calf. Andi smiled. In spite of his earlier remarks, her friend was shading the calf with his body, protecting him from the sun’s harsh rays.
Cory stood up when Andi and Taffy came to a stop. “I don’t think he’s gonna make it. He looks mighty weak.”
Andi’s heart turned over. “We’ve got to try. Come on.”
It took Andi and Cory three tries to sling the calf over Taffy’s withers. He thrashed weakly, then went limp. His eyes rolled back in his head, showing the whites.
Andi stroked him. “Don’t be scared, little fella. It’s for the best.”
After that, the calf lay still. Andi slipped onto Taffy’s bare back and took the reins. “I’m going to go slow, so the calf doesn’t slide off.”
“Good idea,” Cory said. “If he tumbles off, I think you’ll kill him.”
“Cory!”
“Never mind. I’ll grab our fishing gear and catch up. I might as well make sure your calf makes it back to the ranch without slipping off.”
“Thanks!” Andi called and gave Taffy the barest nudge. “Easy does it, girl. We are not in a hurry today.”
Cory caught up on his chestnut gelding, Flash, before Andi and her precious cargo had gone two hundred yards. Together, their horses plodded back to the ranch house at a snail’s pace. The sun beat down on Andi and the calf. She nudged Taffy. A faster walk might be wise. She placed one hand on the calf’s slumped body to make sure he didn’t slide off.
An hour later, Andi and Cory dismounted in front of the wide double doors of the horse barn. They stood near the calf’s lolling head.
Cory swallowed. “Is he—”
“He’s alive.” Andi helped lower the small beast into Cory’s arms. “Can you carry him?”
“Sure. I lift grain sacks at the livery that weigh more than this calf. Lead the way.”
In no time, the calf lay on a heap of clean, fresh straw in Taffy’s stall. His eyes opened, and he looked around. The calf appeared grateful to be out of the sun and inside the much-cooler barn, but he did not stand up. He didn’t even moo.
A bad sign.
“Now for some warm milk,” Andi said matter-of-factly. “We need to find a bottle and a nipple.”
“Not me.” Cory shook his head. “I helped pack your calf home, but it’s time I got back to town.” He glanced up at the mid-afternoon sun and lowered the brim of his hat to shade his eyes. “See ya.”
Andi’s eyebrows rose. “Why can’t you stay and help me?”
“I don’t want to be around when your brother finds your newest pet.” He laughed, gave the calf a final pat, and hurried outside.
Andi slumped in disappointment, but thanked Cory anyway. Then she turned to the calf. “I reckon it’s just you and me now. I’d best get you some milk, pronto.”
Getting hold of a quart of milk was the easy part. Finding a bottle and nipple would be a challenge. Andi could count on the fingers of one hand the times she’d seen her brothers bottle-feed a calf.
A prize-winning bull calf sired by Prince Reginald, the sire of the Circle C herd, had been born too soon a few winters ago. Chad and Mitch hovered over the baby as if he were the prince of Egypt. The calf lived, much to the Carter brothers’ relief, and went on to be sold for over a thousand dollars as a feisty two-year-old.
When Chad put his mind to it, a sick foal or an early calf had very little chance of dying without his permission.
Andi muffled a giggle at the image of a calf asking her brother’s permission to die. Then she turned serious. “So, where did the boys keep that old bottle?”
Leaving the calf alone, Andi rummaged through the tack room but came up empty. She was pretty sure her brothers did not keep emergency livestock supplies up in the hayloft, but she looked anyway.
Andi knew only one more place to check. She left the horse barn and hurried to the dairy barn, where Cook and another cowhand milked the few cows the Circle C kept for their own use.
In a corner of the milkhouse, along with all sorts of tanks and jugs and milking supplies, Andi found what she was looking for. The glass bottle could easily hold two quarts. The black rubber nipple—although worn and unappealing-looking—would no doubt do the job.
Now, for the milk and . . . what luck! Seth, one of the milkers, was leading Plain Jane into her stanchion for a late-afternoon milking. He positioned his bucket under her bulging udder and shot spurts of milk toward half-a-dozen cats lined up near the Jersey cow.
“Seth!” Andi called, peeking around the corner. “Could I please have a few cups of milk?”
“Sure thing, Miss Andi,” Seth cheerfully replied. “Come on over.”
Andi carefully wound her way between the cats, who were happily washing their milk-sodden whiskers, and stood at Seth’s shoulder.
Zing, zing! Milk sprayed into the bucket.
A few minutes later, the cowhand poured a narrow stream of milk from the bucket into the bottle. “A funnel would work better, and be faster,” he said when warm milk dribbled down the outside of the bottle.
Andi nodded. “I’ll find one for next time.” She picked up the bottle and wiped the sticky milk off with her shirt sleeve.
Seth’s eyebrows rose. “Next time? What next time?”
“Well, uh, I’ve got a calf for a . . . a project, so I’ll need milk three or four times a day.”
Seth grunted. “If you say so, miss.” He removed his hat and scratched his head. “Does the boss know about this?”
Andi worked the rubber nipple over the bottle. “Not yet. Thanks for the milk!” She ran out of the milkhouse before Seth could express his surprise.
A minute later, Andi fell to the straw beside the calf. He turned his nose away from the bottle and let out a plaintive mooo.
Andi dripped milk onto her fingers and stuck them inside the calf’s mouth. He sucked and sucked and sucked. But he would not open his mouth for the rubber nipple.
She slumped down in the straw and stroked the calf’s nose. Then she let him suck her fingers again. This time, she sneaked the nipple in next to her fingers and let go.
If the calf had not been so hungry, he might have spat the strange-feeling nipple out of his mouth. But Andi squeezed the nipple and let the warm, sweet milk touch his tongue.
He chewed and mouthed it, but then he took a suck. Then another. Soon, he had sucked the bottle dry. His head sank to his front legs, as if the act of drinking three cups of milk had worn him out.
“You poor thing,” Andi whispered. “You rest now.” She made herself comfortable and spent the next few minutes petting the calf and talking to him.
The calf fell asleep.