Free Whispers from the Dead (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 2) by Karen Ann Hopkins Page B

chiseled facial features and dark brown hair told me that he must be Rowan’s other son.
    “Da, come quickly! It’s the new black cow…” I suddenly lost understanding when the boy’s words changed languages in midsentence, but I got the gist that there was a life threatening crisis going on with a cow.
    Orders fired from Rowan’s mouth in German as if it was an automatic weapon and then the boy was racing back up the driveway. The buggy lurched forward and I had to grab the door frame for stability.
    Rowan exclaimed, “We have a cow down with a breach birth.” He took a breath and glanced at me anxiously and went on, “We have to get the calf out, and it’s not going to be easy. We might need your help.”
    Still bouncing and clinging to the side of the buggy, I muttered, “Sure thing,” but I was silently thinking you have got to be kidding me.

7
    W hen we finally reached the cow, she was obviously in great distress. Her black fur was soaked with sweat and the moisture that was rising from her wet body into the cold winter air was similar to steam that escaped from a sauna when you opened the door. She was vibrating with giant tremors of shivering and every twenty seconds or so, she’d whip her head around to her stomach and bellow out a shrill cry that made me clench my teeth. I certainly wasn’t a farmer, but even I could see that the poor cow was in a very bad way.
    The boy who had ridden to meet us in the driveway was now fast approaching at a dead run with a heavy, woolen-type blanket, while the older boy, who didn’t look at all like Rowan, with his mousy brown hair and light blue eyes, sat at the cow’s head. The boy on the ground was probably about fifteen or so, but with his wet cheeks and worried gaze, he seemed to be handling the scene worse than the other children.
    Mareena stood beside me stoically holding a coil of rope tightly in her arms. Lucinda and Cacey were nowhere to be seen and I imagined that they were in the house tending to other less life threatening chores.
    The sun had disappeared a few minutes earlier beyond the low hill line to the west and with its departure came a bone chilling wind that cut painfully through my jacket. I repositioned myself, turning my back to winter’s onslaught, and tugged my toboggan down tighter over my ears.
    I admired the way Mareena, in her black corduroy coat, could stand so straightly into the biting wind. The girl did have a thick, burgundy-colored scarf wrapped around her neck though, that completely covered her mouth. Her gaze was unflinching as she unemotionally watched the cow writhing in pain beside us.
    Rowan was in the process of backing up the horse, minus the buggy, to the hindquarters of the cow. It still had the harness secured over its back and across its chest, and my imagination ran freely about what was going to happen next.
    “Seth, cover the cow with the blanket and then go to her head. Gabe, come over here to help me,” Rowan instructed the boys. Even though the man had probably dealt with situations like this in the past, I was still impressed with the calmness of his voice. Hysteria in an emergency certainly wasn’t helpful, but unfortunately in my business, I encountered it all too often. I had to admit that when things got dicey, the Amish seemed to handle themselves better than most people did.
    “Is there anything you want me to do?” I asked.
    Rowan had the horse in position, and without specific direction, Mareena left my side to hand him the rope. He looked up at me as he tied a small loop at the end and said, “I need you at the cow’s head. You can help Seth keep her on the ground. We don’t want her to get up when we begin pulling.”
    Unfortunately, my assumptions had been right, I thought as I knelt beside Seth, taking the lead rope from his hands. My heart was pounding, but I focused on the cow’s large eyes as another contraction racked her. Terror was easily identified in their brown depths and the