Ashes of the Red Heifer (19 page)

His breath caught in his throat and he lowered his hand and clutched the clothes. He bucked against her. “Annie.”

She arched her back and reached behind her to fondle his delicate, soft warmth. His moans brought her another wave of pleasure. She rode him harder, watching his face glisten with sweat, his mouth open, his hands pulling her to him. “Oh…god… Annie.”

Suddenly he rose, grabbing her shoulders, and in a swift, smooth move, he lay on top of her, hardly breaking their rhythm. He rested a hand on either side of her shoulders and straightened his arms so he could look at her.

Each thrust of his hips brought Annie closer to climax. Her hips rose to meet his as if they acted apart from her brain. She reached around and planted her open palms on him, feeling rough hair, pulling him tight against her. In a final burst, her body strained, every muscle clamped in moment after moment of shuddering pleasure. The spasms crashed on her again and again, until they finally weakened and her fingers relaxed their grip on David’s skin.

She couldn’t move. Her throat was raw. Had she screamed? All Annie could do was catch her breath and open her eyes to look into David’s face, still hovering above her.

She swallowed, her throat dry, and ran her tongue around parched lips. Her mind searched for the words to tell him how she felt. What hope he’d given her with the physical act. This felt like melding their lives and souls. She opened her mouth to say she loved him.

Before she could speak, David pulled her close, holding her head to his chest. He breathed words into her hair. “You are my heart, Annie.”

A lump formed in her throat. For this one moment she could let go of danger, loss and pain. She could forget her father and not worry about The Corporation. For this one breath, Hassan vanished from her mind. She felt loved and valued above all else. This sacred pause would fuel her for all that was to come.

Then David spoke again, setting a tiny burr against her vulnerable underbelly. “You belong to me. We belong together, for all time.”

His words broke the spell. She kissed him and rolled away, searching for her clothes. Making love had been a surrender and she didn’t regret it. Maybe she did love him. But she didn’t belong to him. And loving David or not wouldn’t convince her father to give them cattle, it wouldn’t save Hassan and it wouldn’t miraculously give her a happily ever after.

She stomped her foot into her boot and David buttoned his shirt when she heard movement on the side of the hill.

Moshe suddenly came into view, sweat dripping on his face from the climb. He stopped abruptly, his eyes widened. He recovered and averted his eyes. “We need to get the cows.” He corrected himself but without humor. “Heifers.”

NINETEEN

       Moshe descended to resume his watch at the pickup.

David walked close to her. “We need the cows.”

Annie leaned into him. “I’ll talk to Dad again. If that doesn’t work, we’ll smuggle the heifers out.”

David’s arms slipped around her. His voice took on a husky tone as his breath tickled the base of her neck. “My brave love.”

His tender words embarrassed her. “Daylight’s a’wasting. Let’s hit the trail, cowboy.”

She trotted down the hill, mumbling to herself. “Prepare yourself, Matthew Grant. The devil’s daughter is on her way.”

Annie let her gaze travel over the rolling hills. She drank in the sight of the sun shimmering on knee-high prairie grass as a camel might drink from a well, storing it up for a long, dry spell. Soapweeds—called yucca in most places—spiked above the gently swaying brome and switch grass. Most of the summer green had faded to gold or brown and the red shades were beginning to sharpen with the cool evenings.

The sight of treeless expanse, broken up by occasional wire fences made Annie long for the freedom she’d felt in these hills. Her eyes clouded with tears, but she blinked them away, reluctant to miss anything.

David caught up with her, stumbling in his tennis shoes. “I can’t understand what you love about this place. It’s as empty and appealing as the moon. You always call it beautiful, but I don’t see much to brag about.”

Annie smiled. She couldn’t expect instant appreciation. Like her own charms, those of the Sandhills were hidden underneath a rough exterior. “If you were a cow, this would be paradise. Lots of grass, space, sunshine. And if you love cows, this is the best place on earth.”

David gazed across the meadow. “But it’s dry.”

Annie couldn’t help the passion she felt for the land and it bubbled forth. “Dry? We’re on the world’s largest aquifer. Groundwater is right below the surface anywhere you want to dig. Look at all the lakes and wetlands. That’s where groundwater hits the earth’s surface.”

David held up his hand. “Are you the same woman who can’t understand all the fuss about Jerusalem?”

A thought struck Annie. “You know, Hassan said pretty much the same thing to me. He said land is more real than time.”

Annie pictured Hassan, his warm, gentle eyes, his quirky humor. She missed him. Please be alive, Hassan.

After a few moments, Annie spoke. “My attachment to the ranch has grown from living with it all my life. Most people’s feelings for Jerusalem come from legend and mythology. It’s a manufactured emotion produced by organized religion.”

David lowered his eyebrows. “Don’t rule out the possibility that God is in Jerusalem.”

She let out of puff of air.

David gave her a sideways glance. “Why are you so hard on God?”

Annie stared at the headquarters below her. “After I left here, I took a good look at my dad. He’s so smart and hardworking. I remember when Lizabeth and I were little how much he laughed and played. The more he clung to his religion, the less of
him
there was, until he seemed afraid to be happy. I figured if that’s what God could do for a body, I didn’t need him. So I quit God. Things have been pretty good for me since then.”

David stared ahead. “Until now.”

Annie nodded. “Until now.”

David stopped her and draped his arms around her shoulders. He bent until his forehead rested against hers. His eyes locked with hers. “Feel the pain of losing the ranch? That’s what a Jew feels for Jerusalem. You say you don’t understand why, but understand with your heart. You know why.”

It sounded silly that one ranch could be so much a part of who she was. Given enough time and determination, Annie could buy another ranch somewhere. But she didn’t want another ranch. She wanted this one. So she chose to be a vet and give up the notion of belonging to one place.

David compelled her to look at him. “How would you feel if this Melvin person ran your father and mother off the place and let it go to ruin, then stood at the gate with an Uzi and threatened to shoot anyone in your family if you set foot on the land?”

Annie took control of her emotions. “I suppose you’re going to tell me that’s what the Muslims did to the Temple Mount.”

David looked grim. “Some people see it that way. I’m sure The Corporation does. Today, the Muslims will tell you Jerusalem is important to them, but all the centuries they held it uncontested, they let the city dilapidate into slums. They didn’t care about Jerusalem until the Jews had the means to get it back.”

Annie stared at him. “Do you feel this way?”

He sighed and looked at the waving grass. “I don’t know. I’ve thought a lot about it.”

The story certainly wasn’t one-sided, however David made it sound. “Hassan’s history of Jerusalem reads a little differently than yours. How many thousands of years did the Arabs live in Palestine before the Jews tossed them out?”

David shrugged. “Can we trust what Hassan said?”

Instant anger made her spring to his defense. “Hassan is not a liar.”

She tensed as they made it to the ranch yard. Moshe leaned against the pickup but other than him, the place looked deserted. She wondered where her father would be.

The screen banged closed. Annie’s mother stepped from the back porch. Arlene’s face was pale and drawn tight with worry. Her arms wrapped around several small boxes and pharmaceutical items.

Annie approached her mother. In her memories, her mother was always even-tempered; neither happy nor sad, taking everything as it came to her. But Annie felt a cold wall between herself and this real life mother. “Mom?”

Her mother’s eyes darted to the barn. “Please, go away.”

Annie took hold of her mother’s shoulder, feeling sharp bones through the thin cotton. She spoke as gently as she could. “I don’t live the way you and Dad do. It doesn’t make me wrong, just different.”

Her mother remained dry-eyed. “Why couldn’t you stay away and leave things be?”

Guilt ran like thick tar down her throat for bringing such torment to her mother.

Her mother spoke fast. “You coming here will kill Matthew. We need to keep him calm. You weren’t here; don’t know how hard it is. Two heart attacks and knowing he could go any time.”

Annie tried to build a story behind the garbled words. “Dad had two heart attacks? When? How bad?”

Her mother shook her head and whispered. “Go. Leave here now.”

Where was the rock of acceptance she’d always counted on? Was unconditional love a fairy tale Annie had dreamed up? Annie couldn’t stop to find the answers. Right now, she needed heifers to save Hassan and the people of Israel, and obviously, her mother wasn’t going to help.

It was between her and her father.

Annie looked at what her mother held, identifying the syringe, penicillin, surgical thread and needle. She reached for them, grabbing them despite feeble wrangling from Arlene. “He’s in the barn?”

Her mother’s only answer was to run back to the house. The slam of the screen door might well have broken the false bond that held them all these years.

She took a deep breath and turned her mind to her father. Annie whirled from the house and strode toward the old barn, screwing up her courage for the ordeal ahead.

David joined her as she passed the pickup. His face held deep sadness.

Annie gave him a sardonic smile. “More of God’s handiwork. Maybe Jesus can forgive, but apparently, there’s some things Mom can’t.”

They approached the barn. “Dad will be working on a heifer, probably pulling the calf. I’m going in and talk to him. You wait out here.”

David’s face grew serious. “I don’t think you should go alone.”

She didn’t want to go at all. “It’ll be okay. If he sees you, Jew-boy, we’ll never get anywhere.”

His full mouth drew into a hard line of concern. “I can’t stand here doing nothing while you go in there. He tried to hit you.”

Even if he stopped the physical blows, he couldn’t protect her from the pain. “I’ll stay out of arm’s reach. This is the best way. You’ll only get him riled.”

He looked so worried Annie couldn’t resist giving him a quick kiss. She took hold of the latch, drew herself to her full height, and opened the barn door.

Annie stepped into the barn and smelled hay, manure, leather and life. Light streamed from open windows in each of the eight stalls. All the stall doors hung open, except one at the far end. Fresh, yellow straw spilled from the stalls over the soft dirt of the center aisle.

Overwhelmed with memories, Annie stopped for a moment. How many nights had she been alone here with a heifer in labor, pulling the calf in the frost of winter? Mucking out the stalls had never bothered her and she took pride in keeping the barn cleaner than many apartments she’d lived in since.

Straw rustled in the last stall accompanied by her father’s terse mumbling, but he wasn’t visible over the stall gate.

Steeling herself for his reaction, Annie made her way toward him.

He breathed heavily. “What took you so long? I got the calf out, but it would have been easier with some help.”

Annie opened the gate to see her father kneeling by the newborn calf, rubbing it with an old towel. The new mother snorted and sniffed. Annie set her supplies down on a narrow ledge and took the syringe and penicillin bottle. She held the bottle upside down to light from a window and inserted the needle into the rubber stopper. When she’d measured out a suitable dose for the heifer, she held the syringe in front of her father, who still worked on the calf.

He took it without looking at her and stood to administer it to the heifer. He glanced at her and froze. His mouth opened, then immediately drew tight. He turned away.

Annie sucked in a breath. “Dad, can’t we talk?”

Her father pulled on the hide in front of the heifer’s shoulder and pushed the needle through the skin, careful not to inject muscle so he wouldn’t leave a lesion.

She waited, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Finally, she broke the silence. “I know you think I was wrong to run away. You’ll never know how many times I’ve ached to come home. But I couldn’t marry Melvin. I couldn’t.”

He pulled the needle out of the heifer and rubbed the spot on her shoulder. He didn’t raise his head. Even if he ignored her, she needed to explain. “I learned good lessons from you. I never gave up, even when I had to choose between paying tuition and eating. I’m smart and I got that from you, too. I know I can cure this disease, Dad.”

Her father shuffled over to a post by the stall door. He grabbed an ear tag stapler from where it hung on a nail and pulled a yellow tag from a plastic bag hanging beside it. His hand shaking, he took a black marking pen and wrote the heifer’s number on the tag to identify the newborn. His face held no emotion at all.

“Can’t you be proud of me?”

He knelt down and fit the tag into the tagger, slipped the calf’s ear into it and squeezed, leaving a bright yellow tag attached to the calf. From his shirt pocket, his hands shaking, he pulled out a small spiral notebook. He flipped it open, took a pencil stub from the same pocket and recorded the ear tag number and date.

Look at me, please. There was so much she wanted to tell him: how she’d earned honors and graduated at the top of her class, how she’d had her pick of jobs. She knew the very latest findings in genetics and nutrition.

But all she ached to share with him would have to stay locked inside her. “I need your cows to finish the research.”