Page 6 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Five

Miles

E ach Saturday morning I brought Beth coffee, a tradition she fought at first, but eventually gave into.

Not only did she crumble into said companionship, but now when I approached her booth, instead of exchanging pleasantries, she greeted me with an outstretched hand, uninterested in my chit chat until she’d secured her cup.

After the first sip, her face would warm, and we’d talk about new products or the weather, but this morning I attempted to nonchalantly slip in a question about Sage’s market schedule.

Her eyebrow raised. “Why do you ask?”

“I just hadn’t seen her before last weekend, and I haven’t seen her today, so I didn’t know if she told you if she planned on coming this weekend or not. Also, I don’t remember you mentioning her at all, now that I think of it.”

I didn’t mean to sound accusatory, but it pained me to think that Beth’s connection was to the farm I represented all this time, not to me.

“What do you say to someone, happy as a clam in their new endeavor? It’s like choosing your favorite kid.

You just don’t. I love Sage, but I hate to say you’ve grown on me too, and it has nothing to do with the farm.

If she told me she was making an appearance last weekend, I probably would have tried to reduce the damage, but alas, you kids figured it out yourselves.

As for this week, she made it pretty clear that she intended on staying home. ”

“I’m not sure I have anything figured out, Beth.”

“Oh, honey. You’re not alone. That was Sage’s first time back to the center of town in three years.

And I don’t think she's particularly happy with how she treated you, she’s just trying to figure things out herself.

But you’re not solving anything leaving your booth unattended, leaving customers waiting, so get going. ”

“Shit,” I mumbled, realizing there were indeed people beginning to congregate around the stall.

I jogged over to my spot behind the table, switching on my customer service persona, apologizing to those I’d kept waiting, but I couldn’t help my wandering gaze that looked over their shoulders, scanning the crowd for Sage.

I’d never intended to make her feel unwelcome in what I assumed was one of the few places still connecting her to her old life, and a tinge of guilt ate at me for keeping her away.

The market was busy for a few moments, the early birds securing their goods before the clock even had a chance to strike eight, but this wasn’t anything new.

It often slowed down for a bit, a small pause before the true opening, and like clockwork, after about twenty minutes the crowd began to disperse.

I knew a second wave would come soon after, but an idea had popped in my head while I was chatting with customers, so I approached Beth a second time to see if she’d be an accomplice to my new plan.

“If I gather up a bunch of stuff, will you drop it off to her?”

Beth looked up from the bread she’d been restocking, her eyebrow raised for the second time today. At this point with my decision making, this look was bound to be a permanent fixture on her face.

“You want to buy her groceries?”

“I would be trading for them with these.” I smiled, holding up a milk crate full of bottles. “It seems like the least I could do since I scared her away. You could say it’s from you.”

“First of all, she's the one who yelled at you, and you didn’t scare her, she's just being proud. Secondly, I’m most certainly not taking credit for this. If you want to do it, you gotta own it.”

“I still don’t think she deserves to go without, so what do you say? I’ll take full responsibility if there’s wrath to bear.”

After pondering for far too long, she let out a long exhale.

“If you pack everything up and have it here before I leave, I’ll drop it off at her apartment on my way home.”

I gently squeezed her hands, thanking her, before beginning my way around the loop to barter.

Throughout my short time at the market, I’d prioritized integrating myself into the community, and somehow along the way I’d established a trade with the sellers I’d befriended.

Before I left for the day, I’d lug my crate around, sometimes filled with milk, others with cheese, and each time upon my return it’d be fuller than I started, overflowing with my exchange.

“Miles!”

My attention diverted to the familiar voice that just so happened to be co-manning my first stop.

“Mornin’ Miss Jessie! How do you do?”

“I won!” she squealed, bouncing up and down as the bubbles of her excitement escaped.

“Let's see her.”

Jessie moved slightly, and on a small pedestal sat a perfectly plump Cherokee Purple heirloom tomato, adorned with a blue first place ribbon.

“I knew that was the one!”

“I know you did! I was nervous, because you know the State Fair judges are harsher than the locals, but I trusted my gut and Trichton Farm finally earned a ribbon.”

“It's well deserved, kiddo. I don’t know any other ten year olds who can grow a tomato quite like you.”

Behind the newly crowned winner stood her father, and his expression conveyed a thousand unspoken words.

I shot him a smile of understanding as we both listened to the competition recap, a story he had probably heard a hundred times by now, yet listened to intently, beaming with pride as if he was hearing it the first time.

“Well, tomato princess,” I said as she wrapped up her story.

“Queen,” she corrected.

“Queen,” I chuckled. “What’s the chance I could get four of your award winning tomatoes, two bunches of lettuce, and two onions.”

“More than usual.” She hummed. “What do you have for me?”

“Today’s choices are milk and mozzarella.”

“Two milk bottles and two balls of mozzarella, and you have a deal.”

I looked past her to her father for confirmation, who silently nodded in agreement to his daughter's offer.

“Deal,” I responded, shaking the tiny outstretched hand.

“Pleasure doing business. See you next Saturday?”

“You know I’d never pass up a chance to see royalty,” I said, bowing deeply.

Giggles erupted as I turned away, but my attention was quickly redirected, instead focusing on the cars beginning to filter into the surrounding parking lots.

I didn’t regret a moment spent with the Trichtons, but due to my time spent socializing I was now in a race against the clock.

With an estimated five minutes of freedom left, I rushed through the rest of the loop, apologizing for the brief visits as I picked out the rest of Sage and I’s groceries, and by the time I returned to my booth, I was embarrassingly out of breath from my mad-dash shopping.

But like clockwork, customers began to arrive, and as they leisurely wandered in, I set aside some cheese and milk from the farm, hoping my last minute personal touch wouldn’t slight her.

The market was slammed.

It was perfectly warm, but not hot, and the live music echoed throughout the loop, creating an ambiance like no other.

When word spread of a good time, the town flocked, and I was positive almost all of Lox was in attendance.

While I hadn’t sold out, I was as close as I’d ever been, and my chest was full with gratitude.

Sometimes the hustle and bustle took over, blinding me from the things around me, but when I slowed to take it all in, the view was amazing.

Support swirled, community established, and joy rang out, all in front of my eyes.

I scanned the crowd, smiling in appreciation at all the friends I’d made along the way, but I stopped dead in my tracks as my view settled on Beth, or more importantly who was in front of her.

Sage Baker.

I could feel my heart rate quicken as I looked around, carefully considering my options now that my plan was clearly foiled.

It was just about time to pack up, and my brain urged me to take all the things I gathered and bring them home, alleviating us both from the potential awkwardness of the second choice, which would be to attempt to give them to Sage in hopes she’d restrain from throwing them back in my face.

As I nervously debated, Beth made eye contact with me across the square.

Her eyes darted from Sage back to me as if saying, “ let’s go buddy,” clearly favoring the latter of my choices.

Facing either woman terrified me, yet I found myself picking up the bags I’d gathered and walking directly towards my apprehension.

Too engrossed in her conversation with Beth, Sage didn’t notice me standing awkwardly behind her, and I cleared my throat, attempting to make myself known.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as Beth’s eyes darted between us, as if she had any reason to be nervous.

Sage rapidly pivoted in response to Beth's gaze, nearly knocking me over, and once she settled on her feet, she stared up at me with wide blue eyes.

“Good morning, Miss Baker.”

My greeting was an attempt to make this introduction less confrontational than the last, but I couldn’t help but smirk at Sage’s mortification.

She clearly didn’t expect it to be me standing behind her.

After mere moments her expression had smoothed, and I tried not to squirm as she looked me up and down, scouring my face with a scrutiny I couldn’t quite place.

When she still didn’t say anything, I held up the bags.

“I got you these.”

Instead of happiness, or even neutrality, her brows furrowed, and I couldn’t quite tell if it was confusion or anger fueling the response.

“Why?” was the first thing that finally escaped her lips.

“I felt bad making you feel uncomfortable, and I was going to give them to Beth, but you showed up. Think of it as a peace treaty.”

She spun around, glaring at Beth. “You’re a traitor.”

“Do you want your bread or not, baby girl?” Beth threatened, which prompted Sage to face me again.

“Thank you…”

“Miles. Miles Carver,” I said, partially sticking out a hand before realizing they were entirely too full to grasp hers.

“Miles Carver,” she repeated. “But I don’t need you to buy groceries for me. I don’t need you to do anything for me; in fact I’d prefer you didn’t. We may coexist within the county lines of Lox, but that doesn’t make us friends.”

“Gotcha,” I sighed, “Well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for whatever ill feelings I provoked, and I also wanted to assure you that your place is being well taken care of. If you ever have questions about what I’m doing or even if you want to stop by and see the girls, you’re more than welcome.”

I looked down at her, searching her eyes for any indication of how the conversation would end, and the furrowing of her brows mixed with the single tear that’d escaped each eye told me she was also trying to figure it out too.

My heart broke at not only the hurt I caused, but at the fact that the mere mention of her old companions caused her this much heartache and anger.

“I’m sorry, I gotta go,” she muttered, before weaving her way out of the market, leaving me standing alone, again.

I lowered the bags in frustration, their mere presence a reminder of my repeated failure to crack the code that was this devastated woman.

Beth rounded the table, approaching me with soft eyes. “I warned you, baby. That girl has been through it and you’re just a reminder of everything she’s lost.”

I let out the breath I’d been holding, exhaling deeply as I realized the challenge that had just walked away from me. Sage’s trauma ran deeper than anything I’d experienced.

“Could you still drop these off, please?”

Her pitied nod of agreement was all I needed, allowing me to dismiss myself with long strides through the park before hopping in my truck.

I needed to get away and I could feel my breaths evening the closer I got to the farm.

I pulled into the driveway, and once the truck was in park, I rested my forehead on the steering wheel.

What was I doing ?

I had enough to worry about, and I was spending my time terrorizing a woman with a past she was adamant to leave behind.

I gained my composure before opening the door, and as I stepped out of the truck, I heard the familiar bellowing of a cow getting ready to give birth.

Before I left for the market, I made my rounds and saw that Buttercup was showing the telltale signs of freshening.

Excitement coursed through me as I picked up pace towards the barn, welcoming the familiar distraction, but as I crossed the threshold, I began jogging, feeling in my bones that something wasn’t right.

I followed the calls of labor until I found her lying down, surrounded by the concerned herd.

“Hi sweetheart. Having a bit of a hard time?” I asked, relieved that she just seemed to be loudly expressing her discomfort.

After shooing away the unwanted spectators, I guided her to her feet, leading her to a bedded stall I’d prepared for her earlier.

Cows could deliver in the field alone, and they sometimes did, but I always attempted to make the experience more comfortable if I could.

She promptly laid back down and I backed off, giving her some privacy.

I learned early on that a good rule of thumb was to only intervene when needed, so I’d check on her for about an hour and if she was still struggling, I’d step in.

Luckily, besides a small tug on a calf here and there, the girls had all been successfully birthing without me.

After about an hour passed, I circled back for another check, and a tinge of concern coursed through me when I saw Buttercup was no longer actively pushing.

This would usually mean she was done laboring, but the calf was nowhere to be found.

When I gloved up to examine her, I could feel it was still stuck in the birth canal, but when I tried to grip its legs, Buttercup would sway away from me, forcing me to lose my grip.

Anxiety built knowing the calf likely had already been in the birthing canal too long, but I hadn’t made enough profit to hire staff, meaning no one was around to help.

In a slight panic, I sprinted to the house, calling one of the nearby farmers, but the line just rang and rang, and as I continued down the list of people who could possibly lend a hand, I was met with voicemail after voicemail.

It was chore time, which meant if I wanted to get a hold of someone, I’d probably have to drive to them, and I wasn’t sure I had that kind of time.

Desperate for help, I swiped through the piles of cluttered papers on my desk, locating the manila envelope that Gale Baker had left me, and I silently celebrated when I located the number I’d been searching for.

It rang far too many times, and I let out a sigh of relief when I finally heard the line pick up.

“Hello?”

“Sage, it’s Miles. Please don’t hang up. I need your help.”