Starlight and Sawdust

Caleb grunted in response, already turning away. “The guest room’s down the hall. Bathroom’s across the way. I’m not running a hotel, so don’t expect room service.”

“Of course not,” Arlo said, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. “I’m here to work, not to be pampered.”

And work he did. Over the next few days, Caleb watched from a distance as Arlo and his small team—a pair of graduate students who seemed to worship the ground he walked on—set up even more equipment around the property. They were careful to avoid the areas where the cattle grazed, but their presence was still a constant irritant to Caleb, a reminder of the outside world intruding on his carefully ordered life.

Living in close quarters with Arlo was even more trying. The man was up at all hours of the night, hunched over his laptop or tinkering with his equipment, muttering to himself about “atmospheric anomalies” and “spectral analysis.” He ate at odd times, leaving dirty dishes in the sink and crumbs on the counter. He took long showers that steamed up the bathroom and used up all the hot water.

“Can you at least try to be a little considerate?” Caleb snapped one morning, after being forced to take a lukewarm shower. “Some of us have actual work to do, you know.”

Arlo looked up from his laptop, blinking owlishly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuinely contrite. “I didn’t realize. I’ll be more mindful in the future.”

But despite his promise, the tension between them continued to simmer. They moved around each other in the small house like planets in separate orbits, rarely colliding but always aware of the other’s presence. Caleb would come in from a long day of work to find Arlo hunched over his equipment, his brow furrowed in concentration. Arlo would emerge from his room in the morning to find Caleb already gone, the only sign of his presence a cold cup of coffee left on the counter.

One evening, they found themselves alone in the kitchen, both reaching for the last slice of leftover pizza at the same time. Their hands brushed, and Caleb jerked back as if he’d been burned.

“Go ahead,” he muttered, gesturing toward the pizza.

Arlo hesitated, then picked up the slice. “Thanks,” he said, his voice gruff.

They ate in silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant lowing of cattle. Caleb found himself stealing glances at Arlo, at the way his glasses slipped down his nose, at the smudge of dirt on his cheek from a long day in the field. He looked tired, Caleb realized, and maybe a little lonely.

“Long day?” he found himself asking, the words out before he could stop them.

Arlo looked up, surprised. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve been tracking a particularly interesting atmospheric pattern. It’s been…challenging.”

Caleb nodded, not sure what to say to that. “Well,” he said finally, pushing back from the table. “Don’t stay up too late staring at your screens. Even astrophysicists need sleep.”

He could feel Arlo’s eyes on his back as he walked away, a curious mix of surprise and something else, something warmer. It was a small moment, barely a blip in the grand scheme of things. But as Caleb lay in bed that night, listening to the sound of Arlo typing away in the next room, he couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between them, however slightly. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t have to wait long to find out.

The shrill ring of his phone jolted Caleb awake just after midnight. He fumbled for it on the nightstand, his heart pounding. “Cary,” he rasped.

“It’s Hank,” his foreman said, his voice tight with urgency. “We’ve got a problem. One of the heifers is calving out by the south pasture, and she’s in distress.”

Caleb was already out of bed, reaching for his boots. “On my way.”

He threw on his coat and hat and headed out into the frigid night air. The south pasture was a good twenty-minute drive from the house, and every second counted when a cow was having trouble calving. He was almost to his truck when he heard the door to the house open behind him.

“Caleb?” Arlo’s voice was sleepy and confused. “What’s going on?”

Caleb turned, impatient to be on his way. “One of my heifers is having trouble calving. I’ve got to get out there.”

To his surprise, Arlo didn’t hesitate. “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to—” Caleb began, but Arlo was already pulling on his boots.

“I may be an astrophysicist, but I did grow up on a farm,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady. “I’ve helped with my share of difficult births. I might be able to help.”

Caleb didn’t have time to argue. “Fine,” he said, jerking his head toward the truck. “Get in.”

The drive out to the south pasture was tense and silent, the only sound the rumble of the engine and the occasional squawk of the radio. Caleb’s mind was racing, thinking through all the things that could go wrong with a calving. If the calf was breech, or too big, or if the heifer was too exhausted to push, they could lose them both.

When they arrived, Hank was waiting for them, his face grim. “She’s not progressing,” he said, leading them over to the heifer. “I think the calf’s stuck.”

Caleb knelt beside the cow, running his hands over her distended belly. She was straining weakly, her eyes rolling in distress. “Okay, girl,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Let’s see what we can do.”

Arlo knelt beside him, his glasses reflecting the beam of Hank’s flashlight. “What do you need me to do?”

Caleb hesitated, but only for a moment. “Hold her head,” he said. “Keep her as calm as you can.”

Arlo nodded, moving to the heifer’s head and stroking her neck gently. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re doing great.”

Caleb turned his attention to the cow’s rear end, his jaw clenching as he assessed the situation. The calf’s feet were visible, but they were pointing downward, not upward as they should be. “Breech,” he said grimly. “I’m going to have to push it back in and try to turn it.”

He rolled up his sleeves and coated his arms in lubricant, then carefully inserted his hand into the cow’s birth canal. It was tight and hot, the calf’s feet slippery under his fingers. He pushed gently but firmly, easing the calf back into the uterus, then began the delicate process of repositioning it.

It was slow, painstaking work, made harder by the heifer’s occasional spasms of pain. Caleb’s arms were soon coated in blood and fluid, his brow beaded with sweat despite the cold night air. But he didn’t stop, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

Arlo stayed by the heifer’s head, talking to her in a low, soothing voice, telling her what a good job she was doing and how strong she was. Every so often, he’d glance over at Caleb, his eyes wide behind his glasses, but he didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask unnecessary questions.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Caleb felt the calf shift into the correct position. “Okay,” he said, sitting back on his heels. “Let’s see if she can push it out now.”

The heifer strained again, her sides heaving, and slowly, painfully, the calf began to emerge. Caleb guided it out, his hands steady and sure, until the small, wet body lay on the straw beside its mother.

For a long moment, none of them spoke, holding their breath as they waited for the calf to move. Then, with a sudden, shaky inhalation, the calf lifted its head, blinking in the beam of the flashlight.

Caleb let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a tired grin spreading across his face. “There you go,” he murmured, running a hand over the calf’s slippery flank. “Welcome to the world, little one.”

Beside him, Arlo was beaming, his face lit up with a mixture of relief and exhilaration. “That was amazing,” he said, his voice hushed with awe. “Caleb, you were incredible.”

Caleb felt a flush of pleasure at the praise, unexpected and unwanted. “Just doing my job,” he said gruffly, wiping his hands on his already filthy jeans.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Arlo said, his gaze still fixed on the calf. “What you did tonight…it was really something.”

Hank clapped Caleb on the shoulder. “He’s right, boss. I’ve seen a lot of calvings, but that was one of the toughest.”

Caleb grunted, suddenly self-conscious under their combined gaze. “We’re not out of the woods yet,” he said, nodding toward the heifer. “We need to get them both somewhere warm and dry.”