![]() ![]() ![]() “Don’t shout.” His voice was quiet and firm. Suddenly, Gabe was running towards the pasture from the equipment barn, and seconds later, he was stepping in front of me, barricading me from the cows. “No! Stop!” My voice sharpened desperately. “Come here, girls! Come on! That’s a good cow!” ![]() “Get back here!” I whistled, trying to keep my balance on the slippery, mud-riddled ground. I broke into a run, waving my arms at the cows still heading for the gate, hoping I might be able to corral them to keep them from getting out, too. And-oh no!-at least twenty cows had escaped through the gate and into the creamery parking lot! Open! The gate! I’d forgotten to latch it behind me when I’d walked into the pasture. I gulped, my pulse ratcheting into my chest. ![]() I glanced up just in time to see three Holsteins trotting past me, making a beeline for the open pasture gate. I was halfway through signing my name when a chorus of elated “Moos,” much too close for comfort, sounded to my right. Careful not to move the phone from its position lest I lose the reception, I texted Leila. Keeping my eyes trained on the phone, at last, I saw one bar flicker to life on its screen. There were several dozen cows grazing a few hundred feet away, but they didn’t even glance up at me. ![]()
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