Part 4
“Come back out.”
Ruth led her into the outer passage and latched the access gate behind them. Otis watched from his pen. Before Curtis could begin opening the route, she raised a hand.
“We’re holding.”
“For how long?”
“I can’t tell you yet.”
“My next pickup’s this afternoon.”
Ruth looked at the trailer, brought more than eighty miles for this job, and at the fresh gravel she had paid to have leveled. She turned back to Curtis.
“Call them. Put the waiting time on my bill.”
He hesitated, jaw tight, then went to the cab with his phone.
Elaine laid the square on the porch bench. Her fingers remained bent around the shape of it. Ruth nearly reached for her hands, but let her own hang loose.
“I thought taking the gate away would help,” Elaine said.
“Would you rather leave?”
“No. I want to do this. Just not with that view in front of me.”
Ruth looked down the protected passage toward the connecting gate.
“What if you worked the gate and I carried the cloth?”
Elaine considered the position.
“I’d need to try it.”
“We can do that with him right where he is.”
When Curtis returned, the three of them walked the plan again. Elaine tested the controls from behind the barrier. Her new position was several steps away from the old alley’s line. Ruth went to the place from which Otis would see the square.
They checked who could see whom, and how each gate would be secured. Nobody moved Otis until Elaine had stood at the controls for a while and said she was ready.
Across the lane, Ruth looked to her daughter. Elaine nodded and opened the connecting gate.
Otis came toward the square. Ruth moved slowly beside the barrier, giving him the familiar first stretch of lane. When his shoulder reached the new gravel, he turned his head toward the cleared ground and stopped.
She held the cloth still. He investigated the end of a panel with his muzzle, then stretched forward to examine the space beyond it. Behind him, the way back to his pen remained open.
Curtis waited at the trailer’s rear-gate controls. Warren had stood where Otis could see him through the panels until Elaine asked him to move. Now he stayed well outside the route, hands buried in his coat pockets.
A secured hay tub was visible toward the front of the trailer.
Otis reached the ramp and lowered his muzzle almost to it. Ruth’s elbow ached. She adjusted her grip without letting the cloth flutter. From here, she could see the new pale hair covering the scrape beneath his horn.
He put a forefoot on the ramp, took it back, and glanced aside.
Ruth felt the urge to hurry the last few feet. She brought the square into the middle of his view and held it there until her arm began to tremble.
His hoof touched the ramp again. This time he left it there and brought the other one up.
Ruth kept pace outside the trailer’s slatted side. Otis climbed, paused, and went forward toward the hay. Only when his hindquarters were fully inside did she lower the square.
Curtis closed the rear gate and checked its fastenings. Elaine confirmed that the lane was clear. Warren came forward for the handover after the barriers had been secured, and Ruth finally stepped away from her position.
At the porch, she tried to fold the cloth. One corner kept slipping out of her hand. Elaine took the far edge, brought it across, and held it while Ruth finished. The square they made was crooked.
Curtis asked them all to stand back before he started the truck. Otis widened his stance as the engine caught. The driver waited, watching through the trailer, until the bull was steady.
The truck moved off slowly and made its broad turn onto the road. Ruth stood watching until it had passed the rented pasture.
She had pictured Otis still living at her fence. Even with the gate gone and winter money spent, she had to keep herself from lifting a hand to call Curtis back.
“Should I stay?” Elaine asked.
“If you have room in your day.”
“I’m free until three.”
Inside, Ruth cleared the boarding papers off the table. Elaine took plates from the cupboard.
A folder of equipment sale receipts lay on Ruth’s desk through the winter. By April, the receiving yard had not reopened. She had rented out more ground and sold machinery she would not use again. Whenever she worked through the figures for reopening even a portion of the yard, she put the calculator away without making a booking.
On a windy Saturday, Elaine drove them to the college. They had arranged the visit a month earlier, and Ruth had checked the date twice that week without calling her daughter about it.
Otis’s paddock bordered the farm’s handling pens. Further assessment had supported treating him as severely hearing impaired. His routines depended on experienced staff, visible signals, and planning; he still required the precautions appropriate to a large, mature bull.
The farm manager met them at the outer fence. He showed them the shelter and the protected viewing walkway, then explained where they could remain while he finished feeding.
Before they reached the viewing place, Otis raised his head. Hay hung from one horn.
Ruth let out a quiet laugh.
“What did I miss?” Elaine asked.
“He could carry that around for hours.”
She lifted an empty hand where he could see it. Otis came partway toward the fence and stopped. His head turned toward Elaine, who raised her hand too.
For a little while, he faced them. Ruth could not tell whether their faces meant anything to him. When fresh hay arrived at the far feeder, he turned away, and she lowered her arm.
They found a bench beyond the walkway. Elaine set a bag between them and handed Ruth a wrapped sandwich. Wind lifted a corner of the paper before Ruth caught it.
Elaine looked at the filling and frowned.
“They used mayonnaise. I asked for yours plain.”
“I’ll wipe some off.”
“Here. Mine hasn’t been touched.”
Ruth began to shake her head, then took the sandwich Elaine offered. Her daughter exchanged the wrappers, pinned the loose paper beneath the bag, and settled back on the bench while Ruth took her first bite.