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"This is where we keep the livestock." Martha and Jonathan leaned against the wood fencing that went on for what seemed like miles and observed the large, slow-moving herds of bovine chewing lazily on thick blades of grass.

"Aw, look at that one. He's so little." She pointed to a small brown and white calf with an odd-shaped marking over his forehead. He seemed lost and wandering, looking for a safe place to settle and rest.

"Him? He was born two days ago. His mother died. I've been trying to bottle feed him but he doesn't seem to like it very much."

"Oh, how sad. What's his name?"

"Well, sweetheart, beef cattle don't usually have names, as a general rule. It makes it harder to, um...." He made a cutting gesture across his throat with his index finger.

"That's terrible," she gasped. For a second, he might as well have said, "Yes, I shot Bambi's mother, and I liked it, too." An apologetic lift of his eyebrow was all he could offer at first. She must have looked as mortified as she sounded, though, because he glanced back at the little animal and appeared to be studying him closely.

"I'm afraid that's part of what we do, but..." He paused and watched the little one trotting back and forth. "I tell you what, though. If you want, you can have that little fella," he said, nodding toward the small calf.

Of course, now Martha felt beyond silly. Farmers didn't raise cows as pets, for goodness' sake. She knew that, but seeing that little one out there and so helpless, it just seemed so cruel. She peeked up from under half-lowered lids. "You'd really do that?"

Jonathan scraped at the dirt with his foot and gripped the fence, looking down at the ground. "Sure I would."

"Really?" She was grinning now, nearly giddy. "You won't...? You know."

He looked up from the spot he'd been focusing on and shook his head, happy to have pleased her. "You can name him anything you want," he said, squinting against the bright afternoon sun.

Martha pursed her lips and cocked her head to one side as she thought seriously on the matter. "I've--I've never had a cow before. I'm not exactly sure what to--well, it is Christmas time so it should probably be fitting to the occasion," she reasoned and tapped her finger against her lips. All at once it came to her. "Joseph."

"First, I should point out that technically your 'cow' is a bull. You wouldn't want to give him a complex," he kidded. "And second" --now it was Jonathan's turn to sound dubious-- "...Joseph?"

"He was given a great blessing at Christmas, right? And I'd say our little friend's been blessed, wouldn't you?"

"I guess he has at that," he agreed, resting an arm over the fence. "Joseph it is." He put his other arm around her again. "Do you wanna feed him?"

"Could I?" Not that she had ever fed a calf before either, but how hard could it really be? He was such a dear-looking little thing. She just wanted to grab him up and take him home. Her father would have a stroke at the thought, though, and they couldn't exactly keep him in the living room. But what a conversation starter that would be.

"Just give me a minute to get him out for you." Jonathan grabbed up a small rope and halter off a nail by the gate, ducked through a space in the fence, and jogged off toward the calf. A few strides short of the animal, his jog lessened to a walk. Martha watched as the calf sniffed tentatively at the man before him, his ears pinned close to his head, until apparently finally deciding he recalled the scent and had no fear of it. Jonathan ran a reassuring hand along the animal's side, then slipped the halter easily into place.

Joseph tossed his head in objection, stamped his front hoof to drive the point home, and stood firmly in place. A light tap at his hindquarters had no effect except causing his nostrils to flare. Another more firm tap had him reconsidering his choices, and he finally stumbled forward, keeping pace with his keeper.

"He hasn't exactly gotten the concept of cooperation yet," Jonathan explained as he approached the gate and eased it open, his little companion following close behind. "But he's learning. We'll take him back to the barn and feed him. Eventually he'll get the idea that food and people go together."

Martha squatted down to look the young calf in the eye and put out her hand, only to have him throw his head and take a step back. "It's okay," she whispered and tried again. His nostrils quivered but he didn't withdraw.

The skin just above his lip was velvety soft. Hot breath puffed in and out of his little nose. Jonathan continued to stroke him along his oversized ears while she petted the length of his face. Suddenly, he let out a meek but hearty cry. Jonathan smiled. "He says hi."

----

"Calves have to consume a tenth of their bodyweight each day, but they also need to build up their immunity to fight off viruses and infections. They usually get that from their mothers. Our little Joe here doesn't have that advantage, and for some reason none of the other females have taken to him."

Martha sat on the end of a couple of bales of hay inside the barn, holding the rope that dangled just under her young calf's chin, watching him flick his tail back and forth from time to time. She listened carefully as Jonathan explained all the meticulous care involved with the animal and was glad that he didn't make her feel out of place. She wasn't a "clueless city girl" being hand-held through the process, just a girl whose boyfriend happened to know a lot about cows and enjoyed discussing them with her.

"So," he went on, "we have to make sure he gets enough nutrition to keep him healthy." He screwed the cap on the large bottle he had been preparing and gave it a shake then handed it to her. "There you go."

"How do I...?"

"Here." He stepped behind her, sat straddling the bales of hay, and slipped his arms under hers. Holding the bottle near the bottom while she held the middle, he squeezed until a droplet of milk dribbled onto the calf's lower lip. A curious little tongue lapped up the white liquid and eagerly saught more.

"Whoa." Jonathan's left arm slid reflexively around her middle, trying to balance them both, while their little friend shoved and pushed closer to his food source, till finally suckling greedily at the rubber nipple presented to him. "I guess he likes it after all."

"Oh my," she laughed, and Jonathan relaxed his hold but kept his arm where it was.

Little Joseph happily guzzled down his lunch. When he'd finally downed the last drop, he nosed the bottle and adamantly voiced his disappointment.

"Hey now, little guy, you'll just have to get more later," Jonathan told the impatient young beast and placed the bottle on the ground next to him--which the animal proceeded to knock over, still searching for that extra bit of milk. Later evidently didn't suit him.

Later. Late. Oh no. Martha looked down at her watch. "Oh, Jonathan, I didn't realize what time it was. I'm sorry. I have to go."

He held her more snugly and made a dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat, then traced his nose along the soft line of her neck. "Are you sure?" he mumbled. Joseph raised his head and mooed loudly, flipping his ears forward and back. "You see? He wants you to stay."

She grinned and leaned back into his embrace."I'd like to stay, too, but I promised my parents I'd be home for dinner tonight and it's a long drive back."

With a an unhappy sigh, he relented and helped her to her feet. "I really wish you didn't have to drive all that way alone."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. But the small wrinkle in his forehead, the one that only appeared when something worrisome was on his mind, had already begun to show. "I promise. I'll call as soon as I get home. I should go say good-bye to your mom and dad." Jonathan relaxed a little, nodded, and secured Joseph's lead rope to a post.

"He'll be okay here for a little while," he explained. Martha gave the calf one last pat before she and Jonathan started walking back toward the house.

It was funny how life worked out sometimes. Just hours before, she had walked the same path alone and for such different reasons. This time, he was there beside her. There was something inherently right about that. As though reading her thoughts, he took her hand. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too..." A small, knowing smile touched her lips--then spread to a wicked grin. "...Jon-boy."

She took off at a run, giggling madly, with Jonathan in close pursuit. "Hey! ...You come back here! Martha Clark, when I catch you...!" He would catch her when they reached the house, but by then it was exactly what she wanted.

TBC...