Page 3 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Three

Miles

S age Baker.

I shook my head as I sauntered back to my booth, attempting my best mask of indifference as I completed my walk of shame.

I wasn’t exactly sure what the chances were that the first beautiful woman I approached in this town just so happened to preemptively hate me, but I was evidently naive thinking they were low.

As I began packing up my things, having wasted the tail end of the market taking the longest shot of the century, I became lost in thought, my brain desperately trying to recall any details that could have warned me of the potential tragedy that just unfolded.

Before I bought the farm, I’d explained to my realtor that I needed a complete change of scenery, and one evening she slipped me Gale Baker’s email, warning me that the property wasn’t officially on the market, but that the owners were heavily considering listing it.

I held off, afraid of making quite that level of commitment, but after a particularly rough night at work I sent a message, lightly inquiring while introducing myself.

I figured it wouldn’t hurt to metaphorically get a foot in the door, and she responded almost immediately with pictures and information about the place, her passion bubbling under each word she’d typed.

Instantly, I was in love.

They had a beautiful herd of holsteins and rolling hills as far as the eye could see, but what really sold me was a photo she’d attached from the kitchen window.

No parking lot, no sea of buildings, just a calendar-quality picturesque view.

Our correspondence stopped after a while, and I didn’t push the topic, knowing they weren’t set on getting rid of the place, and part of me was hopeful they’d made it work.

But after a few months I had a surprise email arrive in my inbox.

The details started to piece back together as I remembered the sorrow dripping from each word I’d received late that evening, but I recall the last bit of the message being what really solidified my decision to seriously consider uprooting everything I’d known.

“I just can’t keep racking up debt to pass on to my daughter. She already feels obligated to take care of us; the last thing I want is for her to be my age filled with regret for missing the life she never got to have.”

I emailed back immediately, not giving myself time for second thoughts, and we settled on a viewing for the next week.

What I had initially pictured when I read those words was a little girl living out her childhood tied to a farm, wishing for a normal life, but Sage Baker was nothing of the sort. She was a spitfire with no interest in leaving.

The farm was being sold with the contingency that the full herd of dairy cows came with it, which I accepted without much thought, spending the last three years with them learning the tricks of the trade.

Many hours in that first year were spent in the library or scouring the internet, which eventually led to meetings with farmers in the surrounding areas to make sure I was educating myself on best practices.

I was no stranger to cows, but I’d never truly farmed, and definitely not at this scale.

When I finally felt confident enough to advertise, I kept the name to pay homage to the family that gave me a start, not fully grasping that my beginning was someone else’s unfortunate end.

Guilt settled over me, but I knew deep down I couldn’t blame myself for the trajectory of a life I didn’t even know.

Sage’s involvement in the decision to sell was unclear, but after the anger I saw, I imagine she was the minority vote that lobbied to keep the farm.

I had to admire her willingness to lead when her father stepped down, but it also softened the spot I had for her parents, knowing they refused to let her meet the fate she nobly accepted.

The responsibility that she so badly desired was heavy, and after carrying its weight I couldn’t help but second guess her ability to bear it alone.

I’m sure that would piss her off more, but knowing the toll I felt daily, I’d hesitate to load the burden on her shoulders, too.

These past few years had been filled with fourteen-hour days milking, mucking, and making more cows, which left me little time to surface in the community.

When I did arise, it was usually still in efforts to support the endeavor, whether it be financially or networking for support.

The mature part of me wanted to continue that focus and steer clear of this woman, letting her have the space she so clearly desired.

The stubborness in me, though, wanted to change her mind.

I wasn’t wealthy by any means like she’d hastily assumed, I just didn’t have a life.

Before my rural rebirth, I sat in a cubicle, staring at a parking lot all day, crunching numbers for an accounting firm a few towns over.

By the time I got off work, my brain had melted from the monotony, and most nights I had just enough mental stamina to eat dinner and crawl into bed.

As depressing as that may sound, the one upside was that I saved most of my money.

I worked for every last cent that I used to put a down payment on the farm, and I imagined the love I developed for it would mirror her own .

The thought of entertaining another human on top of my workload exhausted me, which is probably why I hadn’t done it thus far, but my guilt-laced curiosity tempted me to at least be cordial with this woman, even if it was just long enough to defend my honor.

I’d approached her because she seemed different.

She was gorgeous, don’t get me wrong, but it was the effortlessness to her beauty that pulled me in.

Her curls were tamed back just enough that they weren’t unruly, and freckles littered her nose and cheeks.

I laughed as the image of her expression flooded into my mind.

The little dots scrunched together as she scowled up at me, and while slightly terrifying, it was equally adorable.

Joining the farmers market was one of the first steps I took to notify the community that we were up and running again.

The hope was that Baker Farm could finally start to turn an actual profit now that the girls had been consistently producing quality milk.

The last thing I expected was to be enamored mid cheese sale, and I beat myself up for even allowing myself the few moments it took me to approach Sage.

Truthfully, I couldn't afford to lose a single customer, especially not when the distraction in question was about as calm as a tornado. I didn’t need more excitement when the farm held infinite surprises.

Throughout the past three years I’d dealt with busted tractors, sick cows, and every weather related incident you could think of.

I was finally in a relatively uneventful stretch, and I’d prefer to keep it as such.

The funny thing is, when I noticed Sage, she smiled at everyone around her.

I imagined her to be sweet as honey given the way she interacted with the people who passed by, but when I was met with her fiery attitude instead, I slowly began to second guess my own desires, wondering why instead of being put off I was drawn in.

As if she sensed my inner turmoil, Beth approached me, handing me the remaining crates so I didn’t have to get off the bed of my truck. “You look like you’re up to no good,” she said with a smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I responded, giving her a wink as I neatly stacked the final boxes.

“Be careful messing with Sage, Miles Carver. I mean it,” she scolded, her smirk vanishing from her face.

“She may seem tough on the outside, but she’s just getting back to her old self.

Your success is a constant reminder of what she couldn’t accomplish.

She lived for those animals. When she was younger, she’d take the chickens for daily walks and every cow you have was named and raised by that girl.

I was there when she was at her worst. If you thought she was spicy today, you would have smoldered under the heat back then. ”

“Yes ma’am,” was all I could muster, knowing damn well Beth meant business and nothing I had to say would change that.

“Don’t go roping her back into the world she once knew, just to take it away again.”

“I’m not sure we have anything to worry about. You saw our first interaction, not exactly love at first sight.”

“If you give that girl a chance to see what you’re doing with her old place, I’m not sure she’ll have a choice but to fall in love with you. If you were about twenty years older, you’d have my heart as well.”

“Oh Beth, we know I couldn’t handle you,” I teased, planting a kiss on her hand.

“If you have any intentions of getting to know Sage, even just in passing, you better learn how, baby. We were cut from the same stubborn cloth.”

I closed myself into the cab of my truck with a chuckle, waving goodbye as I pulled away. Beth had meant to warn me, but all her words did was fuel my determination to unearth who this woman was before her life came crumbling down.