She began to cackle shrilly and it got louder and louder, so loud my eardrums felt like they would burst. I clasped my hands over my ears and shrank into myself. “Stop!” I begged. “Stop!” I yelled again. “Stop!”
“Stop!” I cried out. I shot up and sucked in a frantic breath, in violent need of oxygen.
My alarm pierced throughout the room and my hand trembled as it reached to turn it off. Sweet silence rang through my head once more. My body sagged against the wall adjacent to my bed as I tried to calm myself. I stared down at my hands and marked how badly they shook, stuffing them into my sides. My head lolled against the bottom of the window.
“Are you okay?” a groggy-voiced Bridget asked.
“Huh? Oh, yes, just a,” I swallowed, “a bad dream.”
She looked at me fiercely, a confused expression on her face. “That must have been one horrible dream.”
“It was nothing,” I told her, trying to smile.
I threw my legs over the side of my bed and stood. I needed to get out of that trailer. I needed to get to work. I needed...something.
As I brushed my teeth, I purposely thought of Cricket and her clever smile, trying to distract myself. These dreams were cutting too close. I hated them. I didn’t understand them and I wanted them gone so badly. I spat and rinsed, my hands still trembling, when a knock came to the door. Jonah, I thought, but when I opened it, I was surprised to see Cricket.
“Cricket? Everything okay?” I asked, letting her in.
She stepped inside and immediately I was calmed by her presence.
“Yes, it’s just, we’re seeing too many calves dead in the field.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, tossing on my jacket and hat.
“We’re not sure, but it’s spreading quickly and we’re afraid for the calves yet to be born,” she explained as I followed her out and down the steps.
“How many are dead?” I asked, curious, as we wound our way up the lane.
“Eleven,” she said, her breath billowing out in front of her. She looked nervous, her brows furrowed in concentration. “We’ve tried several different antibiotics so far, but we don’t have the right combination.” She seemed to be talking to herself then. “At first I thought it might be pneumonia and umbilical disease, but the antibiotics used to treat those aren’t affecting them.” She slammed a fist into her hand. “We can’t afford to lose any more.”
“Hey,” I said, touching her shoulder briefly and bringing her back. “We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded. “Ethan,” she began, making my stomach clench, “has been out all night with them with Jonah. He’s resting now. I told him I’d get you to help me.”
I bobbed my head, refusing to speak in fear I’d say something stupid.
“We can’t afford to lose any more,” she said gravely.
“Wait, with Jonah? Maybe I should drive Bridge up to the house.”
She dismissed me. “Oh, no, he’s still getting Bridget this morning.”
My eyes narrowed at her.
“Is he?”
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly, deep in thought.
“Why does he do that for her?” I asked her.
She recognized my meaning and lifted her head cautiously. “Because Jonah is the nicest guy God ever made, Spencer.”
“I don’t disagree, but I believe he’s more motivated than that.”
She looked at the ground and tried to hurry before me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I snatched the back of her coat and brought her back. She looked up at me warily. “Cricket.”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
She sighed. “I don’t know.”
“Bull!”
“I’m serious! He’s a very secretive guy sometimes. He hasn’t said anything to any of us, that I know of, but we can see what you see.”
I tugged off my cap and ran my fingers through my hair. Blond strands fell forward and almost reached the tip of my nose. I slicked it back and drew the cap back on. “Doesn’t he recognize that she’s pregnant?”
“He’s not an idiot,” she laughed. “Wanna know my opinion?”
“What’s that?” I asked, as we reached the carriage house. I didn’t know what we were doing there, but I opened the door for her anyway.
“I think he sees a kindred spirit in her.”
I snorted.
“What? Don’t believe me?”
“No,” I answered simply as we rounded several tractors with massive blades in front.
“Jonah’s a big guy,” she started and I laughed which made her grin. “Okay, a very big guy.
“The guy should be a freaking linebacker.”
“Exactly. He’s always been that large and to girls, that’s intimidating. In high school, he fumbled around like a goof, unable to control his massive frame. He’s always been lean, muscular, but it wasn’t until he hit his sophomore year, right about the time he became really interested in girls, that he became the Mister Universe we’ve all come to love. It didn’t help matters that he was shyer than anyone I’d ever met.”
I whistled low.
“Tell me about it. I would have to drag him around with me, practically speak for him if a girl was present.”
I laughed out loud. The idea of itty-bitty Cricket acting as bodyguard to Montana’s version of Tom Hardy was too hilarious.