Megan kneels on the floor by the calf. It’s still warm and steamy in the room from the shower. She rakes her hand through the fur on the calf’s hip. “What a pretty little girl,” she croons to the calf, and then she takes a stethoscope from under her sweatshirt and listens at the calf’s ribcage, belly, and chest. Lance crouches beside her. In the quiet, Robbie comes and stands over them.

After a minute or so, Megan leans back, sees their worried expressions, and smiles reassuringly. “So far, so good. No irregularities.” She fills a needle and syringe with the contents of a tiny bottle and gives the calf a stick that makes Lance jump, but which the calf doesn’t seem to notice. “Steroid,” Megan explains as she preps a second syringe, this one without a needle. She puts it in the corner of the calf’s mouth and tilts the animal’s head back, emptying the contents more or less straight down her throat. “And a little extra colostrum.”

“Colostrum?” The word is only vaguely familiar to Lance.

“First milk,” Megan explains. “It’s how newborn mammals get some important antibodies. Robbie says he milked the cow, which is good, but the colostrum isn’t always there in the very beginning.” She checks the calf’s joints one at a time, pulls up her eyelids, and then smiles with a nod.

“I think she’s in good shape. They’re vulnerable at this age, and she definitely has had some stress, so we’ll have to watch her closely for signs of virus or infection, but for now, the most important thing is to keep her fed. Isn’t that right, baby?” She digs in her bag and produces a giant bottle, a plastic tube, and a sealed plastic bag of white powder. “If you’ll let me mess up your kitchen, we can probably take care of that, at least. Hopefully, she’s a quick study and will nurse the bottle, but if not, I’ll show you what to do.”

Half an hour later, the calf—who, thankfully, was a quick study, because just the thought of pushing a tube down her throat made Lance queasy—has sucked down the contents of a bottle like a vacuum and then immediately fallen asleep, the dampness of her bottle lingering on her upper lip like a mustache. Lance pats her mouth dry with the end of the towel.

“She should be up and moving around in the next eight hours. If she isn’t, call me. Also, you’re going to need milk replacer. I brought you everything I had, unfortunately.”

“I can run into the farm store and get some,” Robbie says. “I’ve got to get a few things at the grocery store, anyway.” He slants a smile at Lance. “Considering we’re down to one egg.”

Lance hasn’t even thought of food, for various reasons, but the cinnamon toast breakfast was a long time ago. Robbie’s glance and offhand comment make Lance warm on the inside. He smiles back.

Megan looks between them and then quickly away. Lance’s old fears rear up in his head, but then he sees the mystified little smile she can’t quite hide and they vanish again.