Desire and a Bottle of Merlot: (Like Sisters Series Book 5) Chick Lit: A Romantic Comedy (3 page)

“Ice water, anyone?”

“Sure. Thanks, Irene,” Karen said.

Elton returned with Rose—his daughter—and three children under seven. Rose and her family lived in the large farmhouse with peeling white paint next door. A lively conversation continued throughout lunch until the screen door swung open and Jacob and David walked in. More introductions were made. David was Irene and Elton’s middle son, and Jacob was Rose’s husband. Today was the day they planned to castrate the six new calves, born just two weeks ago.

Mario listened intently. “If you don’t mind me asking, how and why do you do that?”

The boisterous laughter coming from the three men intimidated Mario for a second. He wondered if he’d spoken out of turn. David explained how the young bulls needed to be castrated to keep them calm, plus they were meant to be sold to a slaughterhouse before they reached a year old.

“So, how’s it done?”

Jacob responded for everyone. “Well, it’s called banding. The younger they are when it’s done, the faster they recover and the less pain they go through.”

“What does banding mean? Sorry—I lived in New York most of my life, in the city. This is actually the first farm I’ve ever been to.”

A wide grin spreading across his face gave away what David was thinking. He pulled off his straw hat, rubbed his forehead, and asked, “How long are you staying?”

Karen said, “We can stay for a while. I can see by the glimmer in your eyes that your wheels are turning. I’m afraid to hear what you’re going to say.” She started to perspire and gave Mario a worried look.

Another round of laughter filled the room as Irene and Rose sliced pie, serving each piece on old china plates with age cracks across the surfaces. They poured coffee for everyone in mismatched cups.

David grinned. “I think we just found a volunteer to help with the calves.”

Mario was surprised but wasn’t about to wimp out on what seemed like a dare. These men were large, tough, and ready to go. “Me? Okay… I guess I can help, but how big are the calves?”

More belly roars erupted from the men. “Right now… what do you think, Pop—a little over a hundred pounds each?”

“Yep, that sounds just about right. Finish your pie and coffee, boys. We have calves to castrate.”

Mario reluctantly followed the three men outside and across the gravel driveway to the rickety calf barn. It was a small extension of the larger milking barn that was now used only for storing hay. Elton hadn’t had a dairy farm for twelve years, choosing to grow crops and raise Angus cattle for slaughtering instead.

They entered the darkened area, where Mario caught a quick glimpse of a small pen holding six black calves at the far end of the barn. His eyes needed a minute to adjust to the blackness again once the doors were closed. Because this was an Amish farm, none of the outbuildings had lighting. David walked in front of the rest in the darkened barn, knowing the area well enough to head directly to the large double doors leading to the corral. With the doors pushed open, natural sunlight streamed in, illuminating the barn. Just beyond, to the right of the corral, stood a lean-to connected to an outdoor pen holding a huge Angus bull that David told him was named Sampson.

Karen knew that her cousins had a good sense of humor and adventurous natures, and she wondered what role they would make Mario play. She desperately wanted to go outside and watch the yearly ritual, but the women left that type of chore in the men’s capable hands. Womenfolk were in charge of the three Cs—cooking, canning, and cleaning.

Irene and Rose wanted to hear more about this new man in Karen’s life. The year before, when she’d visited, Karen hadn’t mentioned anyone special.

“Let’s just say we’re getting better acquainted. I mean, I’ve known Mario for eight months, but he’s my boss. This was a business trip to Colorado with a few sightseeing stops along the way. He’s really a nice man, and maybe it will lead to more. Time will tell.”

Catching up with an occasional guest was what these women enjoyed most. They leaned in with anticipation to hear what Karen had to say and to share a bit of their own personal gossip too. They didn’t talk on the phone often—it was used mostly for urgent matters. Texts and emails were out of the question since they didn’t have access to worldly devices for sending electronic communications. The best conversation was done face to face, in the moment. Letters took forever, and by the time several letters had been mailed back and forth, they forgot what the important topic was about anyway. As they giggled with stories, the women promised everything discussed would stay between them at the table. The coffee was hot, and the conversation was, too.

The latest news they were sharing was suddenly interrupted with yelling and commotion coming from outdoors. The women jumped from the table and ran to the window. Karen had no idea what was going on, but by Irene and Rose’s screaming in their native Pennsylvania Dutch tongue, it couldn’t be anything good, especially when Rose grabbed two pots off the counter and ran out the back door with Irene right on her heels.

“What the—” Karen had to hold her tongue. The only words she could think of were swear words in that split second, while she stood, her feet frozen to the porch floor as if they were stuck in quicksand.
Oh my friggin’ God. This can’t be happening!

Rose and Irene ran toward the corral, yelling and waving their arms while Mario stood dead center in the dusty pen. A skittish calf cowered ten feet to his left against the steel rungs of the fence. Glaring at Mario with black bulging eyes was a ton of angry, snorting muscle, wearing two large horns, and only thirty feet away.

It all happened so fast. The calf, being young and quick, had squirmed out of Mario’s grip when he’d attempted to band it and had run into the corral. Mario chased the calf, knowing the only way to save face in front of these laughing men was to get the job done.

“C’mon little dude, make this easy on me,” Mario joked as he tried to chase the calf back to the barn. The fast movements and noise the two of them were making in the corral must have startled Sampson. Like black lightning, the enormous bull had let out a shrill snort and charged through the wooden pen he was in, shredding the gate into pieces the size of firewood.

Dust flew, and steaming snot shot out of Sampson’s nose. He was loose and in charge. Standing his ground, the black, angry Angus stomped and pawed at the dirt, his dark, beady eyes sizing Mario up.

The shocked men grabbed shovels and rakes to bang against the corral, trying to create a noisy distraction for the bull. The women came out of the house, looking desperate, and Irene ripped off her apron as she ran. She climbed up two rungs of the corral gate, swinging her apron like a white surrender flag to get the bull’s attention. Rose was holding two kitchen pans, which she clanked together.

“What should I do?” Mario yelled out, needing some quick, sound advice.

“How fast can you run? You have to get over the fence before Sampson gets to you. Bulls are stupid but quick. He has to think this over before he charges.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No, but the second he takes his eyes off of you, run like you’ve never run before.”

Mario sized up the height of the fence along with the distance to get to safety. He had five steel rungs to jump over and twenty-five feet to run. He’d never witnessed an animal this ferocious in his entire life, not even the mother black bear he’d come across while hiking two years ago. Luckily, she and the cub had been on the opposite side of a rushing river during the snowmelt. Still, Mario had gotten out of the area as fast as he could.

He yelled to the men and women, who were doing their best to confuse Sampson. “All right, do whatever you can to distract him. The second he looks away, I’m running like hell.”

Karen grimaced at Mario’s accidental swearing but knew God and every Amish person on earth would understand.

Dust cover hanging in the air at eye level, kicked up by the bull, might help for a second or two at the most. Sampson eyed Irene and Rose for a split second while they made as much commotion as possible, banging pots against the steel fence rungs. The bull jerked his head back toward Mario, stomped, and pawed the ground one more time as he snorted. He began to wind up, head down and horns forward, ready to go. He gave one quick look toward Elton and the guys throwing fallen apples at him, but it was enough to give Mario the extra second to bolt. He ran for his life with the sound of stomping hooves getting closer. Mario grabbed the top rung of the fence and launched his body over the five-foot-high top rail like an Olympic pole-vaulter. He glanced back. Sampson had stopped just short of crashing into the thick steel rungs of the fence. With the bull distracted and on the opposite side of the corral, David chased the calf into the barn and pulled the double doors closed behind him.

Mario lay in the dirt on the safe side of the corral, the wind knocked out of him from the fall, grasping his right hand. The three running women made it to him in seconds with the men taking up the rear. Karen knelt over Mario, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. Her eyes stung from the dust, and the tears blurred her vision. “Where does it hurt, Mario?” Sobs crept up her throat while she hoped for a favorable response.

A few grunts sounded before he spoke actual words. “Give… me… a second. The wind was knocked…” Mario writhed on the ground while the group stood above him.

“Rose, get him a glass of water,” Irene yelled out.

Mario sat up cautiously, wincing and holding his right side. He reached for the glass Rose handed him but dropped it. “I think my ribs are cracked, and there’s something going on with my wrist.”

“I’ve got to get him to the hospital in Hutch right away,” Karen said. Anguish took over her body as she shook with fear.

“Doc Miller lives on the next dirt road to the west. It’s less than a mile from here. Irene, go get him. He’ll know what to do,” Elton said. “Boys, let’s get him into the house. Careful now.”

Karen stared in disbelief as Irene ran to the tractor and climbed aboard, gunning it down the dirt road, leaving a trail of dust in her wake. The men laid Mario on the brown velour couch while Rose rushed to the kitchen to fill another glass of water. With two pillows propped under his head, Mario was able to take a few sips through a straw. Karen’s hands shook as she held the glass for him.

“It’s never a dull moment around you, is it?” Mario groaned as he tried to joke. Karen ran outside, sobbing. The screen door slammed behind her. “I guess that was the wrong thing to say.”

Standing on the south side of the milk house where nobody could see her, Karen’s body quaked at the thought of what had just happened. She jammed her hands deep into her Levi’s to stop the shaking.
Mario could have been gored to death.
Every time he’s with me, something terrible happens. I’m nothing but bad luck for him.
Karen pulled the cell phone out of her front left pocket and hit the green telephone icon next to Vic’s name.

“What’s up, chicky mama? How’s the road trip going?” Vic asked in her usual upbeat tone. She sat on a vacant swivel chair, glancing out the window now and then. She wasn’t about to miss the excitement, if something exciting actually happened in their small downtown area. The latest edition of
InStyle
magazine had arrived earlier that day, and she was engrossed in the new spring line. Vic dog-eared every page that featured some type of glamorous fashion trend. This season’s “it” color was bubblegum pink, Vic’s favorite. She couldn’t believe her luck.

Karen wailed into the phone, explaining that Mario had almost been gored to death just two seconds ago.

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re freaking me out right now.” Vic jumped off the chair and headed straight to the back room. She opened the mini-fridge and pulled out a single-serve plastic bottle of Merlot. She’d already finished her appointments for the day and was waiting on Tina. A glass of wine at Morey’s had been the plan until Karen called. Vic cracked open the screw top and guzzled from the small bottle. “Okay… are you being a drama queen like Sasha, or are you serious, and how could Mario get friggin’ gored anyway?”

“I’m as serious as a heart attack. Son of a bitch, Vic. Everything I do causes Mario to get hurt. The friggin’ Angus bull, Sampson, almost killed him. He’s hurt, but I don’t know how badly. The doctor is on his way. Damn it—everything goes wrong around me!”

The sound of a twig snapping told Karen somebody was standing behind her. She turned to see Rose staring at her with saucer-sized eyes.

“Mario is asking for you, Karen.”

“Thanks, Rose.” Karen sniffled. “I’ll be right there.” She wiped her eyes as she watched Rose turn back and follow the uneven, cracked sidewalk to the house. “Great. Now my cousin just heard me swear like a friggin’ sailor. Can I screw anything else up today?”

“I hope not, sister. Call me back as soon as the doctor checks out Mario.”

“I will, I promise.”

Doc Miller arrived just ahead of Irene, who was returning on the tractor. The doctor popped his head through the door, calling out to Elton.

“C’mon in, Doc Miller, we’re in the living room,” Elton replied.

Warren Miller, a burly, gray-haired, semiretired general practitioner, took care of most of the Amish families in the area. He understood how dangerous any emergency could be in an Amish household where families sometimes didn’t have a phone and never had a car. He sat on a chair next to the couch and checked Mario over carefully, asking questions as he examined the rattled and dusty young man. Elton sat on the edge of the overstuffed chair, his elbows resting on his nervous, bouncing knees. David and Jacob paced the room. A favorable prognosis let them all breathe a sigh of relief. Considering the alternative, most anything would be good news.

Elton pulled his hat off and wiped his glistening forehead with the back of his hand. “Thank the Lord he’s all right.”