Chapter 19: Dallas

When I got back to the house, it was emptier than I thought it would be. The kiss at the airport solidified everything I had hoped for, yet feared. My mind was still reeling with our argument from a few days before, and the shitty thing about it all was that she had been right. I mean, I wasn’t gonna convince her to stay or anything, but I sure as hell couldn’t sit there and tell her that I wasn’t sad about her leaving me behind. I would’ve gone with her in a second if she had asked, but she hadn’t. And deep down, as much as I hated to admit it, I doubt I’d be where I was today in my career had I followed her.

Still, I wouldn’t have stopped her, even though God knows at that airport, I had wanted to throw her over my shoulder and bring her back home with me.

Jesus Christ, I would’ve done anything for her. I would’ve gotten on my knees and begged for another week, or told her to postpone the flight so I could have packed my bags to go with her. I didn’t have a lotta money, but I had enough to hire someone to take over the ranch while I was gone, and I could’ve flown back and forth, or at least I would have for her.

My house still smelled like her. It was like the walls had sucked up her scent and was breathing it back out to me. That’s the thing about houses, they memorize things. The way someone walks, talks, or smells. My house held memories of the nights Autumn and I had spent buried in each other’s bodies, writhing in sweat underneath the moonlight.

With houses though, when someone leaves, they try to right themselves by puffing out their breaths, memories, moans, and smells, all in an effort to fill the void the house itself feels.

I wanted Autumn there, but she was gone.

Again.

I went up to her room and slowly began to clean up. I made up her bed while the scent of her conditioner flew at my nose, and I cleaned down the bathroom while the smell of her bath bubbles penetrated the air. I couldn’t look at that tub without seeing her sunk down onto my dick in it, and I couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing her reflection. The house was practically screaming out at me, infuriated that she wasn’t there anymore. Upset with me for not bringing her back from the airport.

“She’s gone, all right?” I said out loud. “And she ain’t comin’ back.”

My cat growled in annoyance. I fucked up.

I didn’t even know who the fuck I was talking to. All I knew was that it felt empty like the house was suddenly too big. Her body wasn’t where it should be, her laughter didn’t fill the corners like it should have, and her smile wasn’t dimming the lights with its watts of electricity.

Fuck, this was gonna be hard.

I went out to tend to my animals, hoping to take my mind off Autumn, yet there were traces of her there too. Every horse I tended to brought tears to my eyes, forcing me to think of how I had almost lost her permanently, the girl I’d fallen in love with during college. The girl that was the muse for my rodeo career. The girl I’d built this entire fucking business for, just in case she came back and didn’t have anything to come home to. I had built it all for her, and every time I looked at those horse hooves, it made me angry. Angry at that damn horse ranch for letting her ride, angry at that fucking horse for trampling her body, and angry at that damn snake for biting her neck. Had it not been for that damn rodeo she showed up at, she wouldn’t of gone seekin’ out my number. And if she hadn’t gone seekin’ out my number, she wouldn’t have gone to that ranch. If she hadn’t of gone to that ranch, she wouldn’t of rode.

She would’ve been safe, she would’ve been healthy, and none of this past month would’ve occurred. I could’ve gone on livin’ alone in my massive house with my massive farm that I distracted myself with, and never once would have been privy to the loneliness I’d been living with.

Loneliness was easy to get used to it, and once you were used to it, it didn’t hurt. But after you had something to compare it to for a while, you realized how much it fucking hurt.

“Shit!” I roared out, accidentally spooking the horses and the heifers in the barn who had started tossing themselves up against the metal stalls. Guiltily, I made my way over there to check on them.

When I got there, I noticed one of them was laying down in her stall, and it didn’t take me but a second to figure out what was happening. I ripped my phone out of my pocket and called the vet, telling him it was time for one of them.

My heifer was about to give birth.

I went over to her and put her head on my lap. By the way she was panting, I realized she’d probably been in labor for the majority of the morning. I felt around on her stomach and sighed with relief when I felt the calf moving around inside, but I knew that calf wasn’t gonna be alive much longer if that vet didn’t get there quick.

The heifer mooed out in her pain, nuzzling into my chest, and for the first time in years, I started crying with one of my animals.

Autumn would’ve loved to have been there for this moment. She was always so attentive to animals’ needs, and if she had been there, she would have known exactly what to do. I could feed ‘em and train ‘em and keep ‘em healthy, but I didn’t know shit about my female animals giving birth.

It was my downfall, but it was one of Autumn’s strengths. For as long as I could remember what I was shit at, Autumn was great at. And what she was shit at, I was wonderful at. When put together, we were one well-rounded human being who actually knew how to function. But apart, we were just floating and stumbling around, trying to make the best of things.

Was that how Paris was for her? Lots of stumbling?

“All right, all right. I’m here,” the vet said pulling me away from my thoughts.

“Thanks for comin’,” I said, breathing a sigh of relief.

“No problem. Lemme take a look.”

The vet got down onto the heifer’s level, not seeming happy that she was laying down.

“Do you know when she lied down?” he asked.

“She was lyin’ down when I came in here.”

“Shit. All right.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Lyin’ down means she’s tired. And if she’s tired, it means she’s probably been in labor all night.”

“God, I thought I would’ve heard her if she was mooin’ all night.”

“You’d be surprised. If the contractions were really far apart, the mooin’ she would’ve been doing would’ve sounded completely normal because she wouldn’t have been tired yet.”

“Shit,” I said.

I watched him pop on a glove that went all the way up to his shoulder before he spread Vaseline on himself. I bent over and pressed a kiss to my cow before he shoved his hand deep into her body. It killed me to see the pain and fear wash over my animal’s eyes. She was so frightened and I was so clueless that I made a mental note to take some classes somewhere on how to deal with this for next time around. I needed to be more prepared.

“All right, it looks like I’m gonna have to intervene. Otherwise, we’re gonna end up with a stillborn. Scoot me my bag.”

I jutted my leg out and scooted the bag towards him, all the while trying to keep the cow distracted. Sweat rolled down my face, and my cow kept trying to kick the doctor for intruding on her body. When I looked back up though, the calf’s back legs were dangling on the ground.

“I’ve almost got it. Keep her still,” the vet grunted.

Before I knew it, a calf in a fluid sac came spilling out from my heifer and she finally relaxed. She panted onto my lap and her eyes slowly closed, while the vet got to work on getting the calf out of its sac.

“Keep that heifer awake, all right?” he commanded.

I slowly tapped her face, but I couldn’t get her to open her eyes. I tapped a bit harder and saw them open for a split second, but they were glassy and unfocused.

“Doc, I think we got a problem,” I said nervously. I heard a tear before a large amount of fluid spilled around us, and the doctor began helping the calf onto its feet.

“Tap as hard as you can. You gotta keep that momma awake!” he yelled.

I tapped harder and harder, but when her eyes closed the next time, they didn’t reopen. As her breathing grew short and labored, tears rose to my eyes. It regretfully dawned on me what was happening.

“Please don’t leave me too,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Come on, momma,” the vet purred. “You gotta stay alive and get this youngin’ fed.” The calf was slowly gaining its balance in the corner and looked to be the very essence of new life itself. Meanwhile, my tears fell onto my heifer’s face when I realized she wasn’t gonna wake back up.

“Not you, too. Please,” I pleaded.

Her breathing slowly come to a stop, and I felt like I was gonna vomit. Her teats were leaking milk that her calf desperately needed, almost like her body was trying to reach out one last time. I pried one of her eyes open, hoping that she wasn’t really going to leave me today. But I was only met with an empty, glassy stare.

Just like my empty, glassy house.

“I’m so sorry, Dallas,” the vet said softly.

I slowly laid her head down onto the straw and sat back in the corner. My watery gaze panned over to the baby calf jumping around nearby, and I heard one of my other cows begin to moo up a storm in the barn.

“You got another momma in here producing milk?” the vet asked.

“They all do,” I said.

“Come here, little one,” he cooed to the calf, leading it out of the barn. Seconds later, I heard suction cups unhook, and soon afterwards, the mooing cow quieted to be replaced by the suckling sounds of a hungry newborn.

“It’s a girl,” the vet said, coming around the corner smiling. But all I could do was mindlessly pet the head of the dead cow lying beside me.

“I don’t know what your protocol is around here for your animals. You obviously loved her, and she obviously trusted you.”

“Yeah…” I said, not giving a shit about the tears runnin’ down my face. I’d just taken Autumn to the airport and left one of my beloved heifers to suffer in her labor, and now she was gone. I let go of one woman I loved only to come back and have another one leave me unwillingly.

“Dallas?”

“Yup?”

“Quit mopin’ and go get her if ya love her so much.”

I sighed heavily while the doctor retreated from the barn, and I actually started turning the thought around in my head. I don’t know how long I sat there, debating on whether or not to actually go through with it.

I’d left my heifer behind for something I thought I was supposed to do, and it ended up killing her. I’d sent Autumn off and stayed behind for something I thought I was supposed to do, and the idea of that having some sort of traumatic effect on her made my head spin.

So I took out my phone and placed a phone call to Bradley, my mind finally set.