Wanted: Wife by Gwen Jones

toward the shelf across. “Julie, get me that bottle of baby oil over there, please?”
    I darted to it, a heel squishing into something I hoped wasn’t what I figured.
    He held out his arm. “If you don’t mind, squirt some on me.” When I did, he slathered it up and down his forearm, flexing his hand as the heifer let go with a moooo, just pitiful enough to make us all shiver.
    “Holy cats . . .” Jinks groaned, “you’re really gonna stick your arm up there?”
    “You have a better idea?” Andy said briskly. He swiveled around and dropped to his knees, his muscled arm slick and gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “Here goes,” he said, and taking a deep breath, he slowly slid his hand into the cow’s vulva. She screamed.
    Both Jinks and I jumped back, the heifer’s head thrashing. Andy lay half on his side, his leg arching up to gain traction as he fell in further, the cow’s belly rippling as he attempted to turn the calf around. The beast moaned and mooed, a sheen of sweat breaking out on Andy’s brow, the moisture from the cow’s broken water bag soaking his trousers. A moment later an undulation tore through her belly and Andy yanked the calf out, its body shimmering with mucus and as slick as a greased piglet.
    “You did it! Look at him!” Jinks yelped, tossing Andy a towel. “He’s a beauty!”
    He tilted his head. “ She is. We have another heifer.” He swiped the mucus from her white muzzle and slid her next to her mother, who immediately began to clean her. “But you’re right,” he said happily, beaming with relief. “She is a little beauty!”
    “Yes she is,” I said, coming around to stroke a delicate ear. “Maybe you’ve a future in midwifery after all.”
    He looked at me, his eyes softening. “Maybe I do.”
    All at once I felt a rush of anxiety, or trepidation, or maybe something I’d yet to discern. Whatever it was hung there between us for a moment, before Andy stood and offered me his unsullied hand. I took it, rising to meet him.
    “Scared yet?” he said.
    If it was a challenge, I was up to it. “Of course not.”
    He smiled. “Jinks, let’s go wash up. Mrs. Devine, I’ll meet you outside in a minute.” He squeezed my fingers. “Don’t go away.”
    What was I feeling just a moment before: anticipation? It had to be. I was a bride about to have a wedding night, albeit with a groom presently up to his elbow with the effluvia of cow-birthing. I glanced over my shoulder; he tossed me a wink from the sink. A wink from the sink . I laughed to myself, feeling woozy
    I opened the barn door, and all at once I was greeted by a flock of scattering, squawking— chickens! “What the hell!” I screeched, momentarily disoriented. I twisted around, only to catch sight of a black and white hellhound tearing toward me, barking to take my head off, his teeth bared. I bolted toward the dock, the chickens hopping and fluttering past me as I leapt onto it. My heel caught between the planks.
    “Andy!” I screamed, and fell promptly into the lake.

 
    Chapter Six
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    How You Gonna Keep Her Down on the Farm?
    D ID I MENTION I was deathly afraid of dogs? I didn’t? I was deathly afraid of dogs! When I surfaced, Andy and the hellhound were looking down on me from the dock.
    “I see you can swim,” he said.
    I kicked away from them. “Get that beast out of here!”
    Andy just ruffled the animal’s fur. The black and white dog hunkered down next to him. “You mean Bucky?”
    “If that’s the hellhound’s name!” I threw out my arms, treading the warm water, my bare feet (who knew where my $400 shoes went) skimming the lake bottom’s muck. “Damn thing’s out to kill me.”
    “He’s not out to kill you. He was herding chickens. Now, come here.” He reached out, guiding me back to the ladder.
    “Herding chickens?” I said, water raining off me as I grabbed a rung. Andy’s hand clenched around mine. “I never heard of such a thing.”
    “That’s what Border