Sixty Cows Down the County Road

Brynn sat on Pistol with her chin up, not saying anything, which for Brynn is a kind of miracle. Addie looked at him a long time.

Then she said, “Tell Jasper he can come help too,” and Rich laughed, kind of broken, and said he would.

Elden had been sitting his gray horse the whole time, not saying a word. Now he leaned over and spat in the dirt, and said, “Well, Rich, your daddy would’ve had something to say about all this.” Rich said, “Yes, sir. He would.” And that was the end of it, between those two.

Harlan pulled into the yard in his pickup about then, and he got out with what was left of the cinnamon rolls.

Patty Kessler came up the lane on foot a few minutes later, with Ron limping behind her, because they had driven over to see us in.

Nobody said anything about the ditch. Nobody said anything about two hundred dollars a day. They stood in the yard in the sunshine and ate cinnamon rolls and talked about the weather and calf prices, the way people here do when something important has happened.

I got down off Rusty, and my legs almost gave out, and Addie caught my elbow without looking like she was doing it.

I called Kyle again and told him they were all home. Sixty pairs. I counted them twice going through the gate.

“Rich is here,” I told him. “He’s going to feed for you. Every morning till you’re home.” There was a long quiet on the line.

Then Kyle said, “Put him on,” and I handed my phone over to his brother.

I do not know what the two of them said. Rich walked off a little ways toward the barn with the phone, and stood with his back to all of us, and I saw him put his free hand over his eyes.

When he came back and handed me the phone, he did not say anything, and I did not ask.

Kyle came home three weeks later, on a walker, cussing the walker. Rich was at our place every morning of those three weeks, feeding hay and breaking ice on the tank.

Lisa came with him twice and brought a pan of lasagna, and we were all careful and kind with each other, and that was a start.

That Sunday, the girls and I went to church for the first time since the accident. Pastor read the names on the prayer list, and Kyle’s name was on it, and when he said it, half the people in that little church turned and looked at us and nodded.

Elden was in his pew. So were Ron and Patty.

We sang “How Great Thou Art” for the closing hymn. Brynn sang it loud, louder than she meant to, and I did not tell her to hush.

Across the aisle, Rich was standing with Lisa and their boys, and he was singing too.

But that was all later. That Friday, the last thing I remember of the drive is standing in the yard with my legs shaking, watching the last little calf trot through the gate to find her mama, bawling the whole way.

And Rich stepped out from beside the post, and swung the gate around, and closed our home gate behind the last cow.