She slid the knife in not without compassion. This was tradition. These men, after all, invented the procedure, and they had testicles too. The little bull’s legs were tied and dragged apart by lassos to straight-legged roping horses. How a workhorse hates a cow! Anyone can see it. Disdain. It had to do with pecking order. Horses worked. Cows did not. Aging horses grazed far fields till their knees went. The bullets came quick and unseen.

After the balls were cut and the waddle sliced free, Dan cauterized the horns. Steam rose and the calf moaned, but not moaning so much as when the brand came. The fire was coal and so very hot. The man rocked the brand in the coals then rocked it in the fur with the same motion. The brand was old and hand-forged, original to the Grannie’s line. A squarish V4, same as over the gate coming in.

“Why must it be done?” Ella asked. “Nowadays?”

“Brand’s got to be clear or there’s no reason for the brand.”

Moaning was not the word. Not bellowing either. The calf’s skin smoked. His tongue lolled and jumped a foot from his mouth. His mother stood off and considered charging. Her own brand was three times bigger. Years had stretched it across her hide. The men kept their eyes peeled. She was nine hundred pounds or better. Plenty of weight for insurrection. But she was slow and ineffectual, lots of doubt. She must’ve known too. Seen herself as helpless. How else to explain it. A cow is mighty and can run you right down. But has it happened to you yet?

Why not for love? Why not for her offspring? Why not for any suffering other?

Hard to understand it.

I don’t.

Ginny would never have children, whereas this heifer lived on and on and the brand went on stretching, since she dropped calves reliably each spring, big strong ones that fattened up well.

She trotted back with the bucket of scrotums floating. Ball sacks softer than velvet. The fur on them was a gorgeous marbled masterpiece even from calves that looked plain from afar. Inside out the sack was white-filmy oyster flesh. The testicles sank out of view in the bloody water. She lifted one out, spun it like a lasso. Ella back on the fence screeched at being splattered. It was long, red, and raw, pulled from deep in the body. Even a girl had to squirm. Ginny tossed a pretty scrotum at Dan. He capped his nose with it to show off then jumped down and chased her. She screamed exactly like a girl.

“Okay, so maybe our mothers were twins then!” Dan called.

“No!” Ginny called. “We don’t look a thing alike!”