Chapter Five

It was a cold, rainy night by the time James finally got back to Skeldale.

The calving had started out straightforward enough, but then the calf turned and James struggled to find the legs again. Unlike the other cow he had worked with that day, this one's uterus was much smaller and tighter. Which meant that he did not have much room to move his hand about so he could attach a rope to one of the limbs.

He was about to give up when his index finger finally brushed across a hoof. Relieved, he fastened a line to the back legs and began pulling.

Fortunately, there were no more complications after that. It only took a few minutes to pull the calf out, and it turned out to be a healthy, good-sized heifer. Unfortunately, the cow's uterus came out with the calf which meant even more time spent straining to put it back in.

Once he had gotten home, all James wanted to do was spend an hour soaking in a bath with water as hot as he could stand before going to bed. That would mean asking either Siegfried or Tristan to take the rest of the night calls. Considering the day he had had and the fact that he taken on most of the day's surgery hours and visits, he felt it was a fair exchange.

James flung his jacket onto a hook and sat his bag next to the surgery door before strolling to the living room. He smiled when he found Helen waiting for him on the couch in front of a crackling fire. She jumped up and kissed him.

"Sorry about dinner," he said, putting an arm around her waist. "Is there any left?"

"Mrs. Hall and I put some aside," Helen answered. "Let me get you a plate."

She gave him another peck before leaving the room. Meanwhile, James sank down onto the couch and leaned back, savoring the warmth of the fire. He could hear the patter of the rain on the roof getting louder, and he hoped that he wouldn't have to go back out into that.

When Helen returned, he got up and sat down at the table with her. The food wasn't quite piping hot, but James still marveled at the skill Mrs. Hall used to make sure it was at least a decent meal to come home to.

"Is Siegfried and Tris back yet?" he asked in between bites.

Helen leaned forward and placed her arms onto the table. "No, and I'm getting worried. A regular horse job wouldn't take this long, would it? Especially with Tris there to help him."

"Well, it depends on the job," James replied. "I've had surgeries that have taken an entire night and even a portion of the next morning. And you know how Siegfried is with horses. He'll want to be as thorough as possible before leaving."

Helen nodded and looked down at the stable. James took another couple of bites before reaching over to pat her arms.

"Still, I suppose it is getting rather late, isn't it?" he said. "Look, how about I finish dinner and then I'll make a call to Gibbs' place to see how things are going?"

"All right," Helen said, smiling. "I know I'm probably being silly about this…."

"No you're not," James assured her. "To be honest, I did expect Siegfried to have at least called by now to let us know what is happening. Hopefully, they won't be out for much longer."

Helen smiled again and nodded. "Would you like some more? We had put some aside for Siegfried and Tris too, but well, I doubt they'll want it by the time they get here."

James was about to say no, but then he glanced down at his plate and discovered that it was half-empty already. He must have been hungrier than he thought.

"Maybe a little bit more," he said as he quickly polished off what was left on his plate.

Helen took off for the kitchen and was just about to leave the room when the phone rang. She glanced back at James with a grim look on her face, but continued silently toward the kitchen.

Meanwhile, James let out a frustrated sigh and went to answer the phone. Elaborate horse job or not, it was more than a little unfair for Siegfried and Tristan to fob off all the practice's work onto him. Thus, he was tempted to let Mrs. Hall answer it and say that he was unavailable.

But when the phone rang again, he took a deep breath and answered it.

"Hello? Darrowby three eight five."

"Hello? Hello? That you Mr. Herriot? This is Mr. Sykes."

"Yes, this is Herriot, Mr. Sykes. Can I help you?"

"Well…I'd rather speak to Mr. Farnon. It involves him and all."

"I'm afraid Mr. Farnon isn't here," James replied. "Either one of them."

"Oh, oh well that's all right then," Sykes said. "Young Farnon told me his brother might be late getting out here when I talked to him yesterday. I had thought Mr. Farnon was still messing with that horse out at Gibbs' place. Old Denham had seen his car out there earlier today and one of the boys out there said that that was what Mr. Farnon was doing. But Denham was just by here again and said he'd seen Mr. Farnon's car leave a while ago. So, I thought maybe he'd forgotten to come out here and had gone home. But if you say he's still out, then he's probably on his way. "

"Yes, he probably is," James agreed. "He should be there any time now."

"I reckon so. Well, I'll not bother you any more. Good night, Mr. Herriot."

"Good night, Mr. Sykes."

James hung up the phone and looked up to see Helen walking out of the kitchen, another plate of food in her hands.

"Do you have to go out again?" she asked.

James grinned at her. "Nope. That was Mr. Sykes wondering where Siegfried was."

"James, do you think we should….?"

"Don't worry, darling, I know where Siegfried and Tris are now," James said. "Old Charlie Denham saw them at Gibbs' place until just a little while ago and by now, Siegfried is heading off to his appointment with Sykes. See, I told you it was just a complicated job that was keeping them out so late. That's probably part of the reason why he took Tristan with him. Tris might not be qualified, but he is a very handy assistant."

"Well, that's good. At least we know what's happened to them then," Helen said. "I was getting worried. But James, they still left you with the night calls."

"I know," James said with a huff of resignation. "Still, it can't be helped. And it's not as if they are taking it easy."

"Oh I know. But I still say they should make it up to you. And soon."

"Don't worry, I plan on collecting on my acts of charity today," James chuckled. "Maybe we can take a day off and head to Brawton later this week. We haven't been there in a while."

"That sounds lovely," Helen said, a smile of her own finally appearing. "For now, let's just hope that you don't get called out again."

"I'll settle for the rest of dinner and time for a hot bath at this point," James said.

Helen handed him the plate and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You finish that up and I'll draw you one."

"Thank you, darling," James said as she walked away. He carried his plate back to the table and dug in right away, eager to finish and have a relaxing soak.

The truth was, he was more than a little put out by Siegfried leaving him to handle everything alone like this. However, he also knew that Siegfried's typical absentmindedness only got worse when he was confronted with a particularly difficult or demanding job. And Tris was not much better about keeping people informed about his movements, especially when he was concerned about Siegfried going on at him for something.

James paused and sat his fork down onto his plate. It occurred to him just then that, if the visit to Gibbs' place had turned into a disaster, it might have repercussions as far as what kind of mood Siegfried would be in by the end of it. Because while a complicated and yet successful job might further improve relations between the Farnons, a catastrophic one could mean a return to the stormy relationship they had had not too long ago.

He shook his head and went back to polishing off what was on his plate. While he dreaded thinking about what could happen, James chose to believe that any outcome, positive or negative, would only be temporary anyway. For all his fiery disposition, Siegfried tended to let go of grievances fairly quickly. Plus, he was very fond of Tristan even if he often didn't show it. And Tris was equally attached to his brother despite the frustration Tristan often displayed in response to his elder brother's cantankerous and capricious nature.

No matter what happened tonight, James was confident now that things would get back to normal eventually. He just hoped it was sooner rather than later.

As soon as he finished his dinner, James yawned, stretching his arms over his head. For now, he was going to focus on how good that bath was going to feel and not let the specter of another night call disturb his contentment.

Back at the wreck of the barn, the weather outside had become much worse.

Lightening flickered outside, creating intense flashes of white within the dark gloom and loud booms of thunder. Thick sheets of rain pelted what was left of the roof. The temperature had dropped quickly to only a few degrees above freezing which contributed to the fierceness of the storm.

Inside the barn, Tristan shivered. He had managed to clean up the area around himself and Siegfried before it had gotten too dark and had found a dirty, cracked lantern in the ruins. He'd only gotten scant amounts of light out of it once he had lit it, but it was enough for his current task: gathering up a pile of straw from wherever he could find clumps of it in the barn.

By now, he was certain that they wouldn't be able to get out of the barn tonight. So Tristan figured that he should do what he could to make the two of them more comfortable. Fortunately, the rain that drizzled into the barn didn't land anywhere near the area he was working in or close to Siegfried's still form. However, it did make the barn much more cold and damp. Thus, he hoped that the old, musty hay he was gathering would provide some protection from the elements.

Tristan lifted another small pile into his arms and walked it over on his knees to where he had already made a substantial mound. Siegfried had only woken up a couple of times over these last three hours. Neither of those times had his brother been coherent or conscious for very long. Still, Tristan had been marginally relieved by those fleeting moments of consciousness. At least Siegfried hadn't been killed by that brutal, amateur surgery. Not that there wasn't still a chance that the shock Siegfried had endured could finish him off anyway.

Tristan roughly shoved the straw he had gathered into a tighter pile. He was still worried about his elder brother, but right now, that was overshadowed by anger. For a long while, he silently raged at that horse for knocking the building down and that gave him something to distract him from his anxiety.

Eventually though, Tristan realized that the true target of his anger was himself. He should have never run into this barn. Siegfried told him not to and he hadn't listened. Even worse, it was Siegfried who had paid the price for his not listening and had ended up injured and forced to endure a makeshift surgery.

Granted, it was Siegfried who had insisted on the surgery, and Tristan had agreed with his reasons. However, knowing that what he did was necessary did not change the memories he had of cleaning and suturing his brother's wounds without an anesthetic. The strangled sounds Siegfried had made were still echoing in the back of his mind.

Tristan slouched down onto his knees, his hands gripped into tight balls on his thighs. A far less rational part of him was convinced that he would have done a better job treating Siegfried if he was a qualified vet. As it was, he was just a student who had failed at his studies numerous times. How could Siegfried trust him with a task like that?

He sagged down even more. The anger had given him the energy he needed to clean up after the surgery and get things ready to spend the night in this barn. However, now that he was just about finished with those tasks, he felt worn down. Every fiber of his muscles cried for rest. His nerves were stretched tight and thin. At that moment, he could almost be grateful that Siegfried was unconscious because he was certain that a single belligerent word from his elder brother would snap the tension building inside him, unleashing emotions he just managed to keep under control.

Tristan raised his head and went back to gathering up the few remaining bits of dry straw. Once he was sure that there was no more to be found, he carefully slipped some of it underneath Siegfried's prone body, cushioning him from the cold, hard dirt floor. Then he checked his brother's vitals again. The pulse was a bit erratic, but still strong. Siegfried's breaths were shallower than normal, but not worryingly so yet.

What did concern Tristan was how cold Siegfried was becoming. His brother had lost a lot of blood and was probably still in shock because of it. Being stuck out in this frigid, dank weather wasn't going to help matters. Nor would the fact that Siegfried's clothes were still damp from falling into that sodden muck earlier.

Tristan sighed. Even in his coat, he was already starting to get chilly and didn't relish the thought making things worse for himself. However, he was also aware that Siegfried needed the extra warmth far more than he did.

He let out a whine as he shrugged out of his jacket and draped it onto Siegfried, making sure to tuck it in around his brother's shoulders. Tristan vigorously rubbed and slapped his upper arms to keep his circulation up, but his jaw was already starting to tremble from the chill. It wasn't long before he gave up, deciding that there would be no way around getting frozen tonight anyway.

Instead, Tristan pushed some of the straw into a circle around Siegfried and then blew out the lantern. He bunched up another pile of hay to burrow into and crawled in. He only stayed there for a few seconds, however, before changing his mind and heaving the straw over closer to Siegfried.

As he laid back down and curled up onto his side, Tristan scooted over as close as he could to Siegfried. Then, he pulled an edge of his jacket over so they could share the warmth. It wasn't all that comfortable, but it was better than huddling alone under that straw.

Suddenly, Siegfried coughed, his eyes flickering open. "Who? Who's there?" His head flopped to the side. "Oh…it's you, Tristan."

Tristan swallowed hard. "Yes Siegfried."

"Tristan why are you…oh, I see," he croaked. "Another nightmare, old chap? It's all right, little brother, I'm here. Go back to sleep."

"Thank you," Tristan mumbled.

Siegfried made a couple more drowsy sounds and then closed his eyes, apparently satisfied with his explanation for what Tristan was doing. He nodded off again immediately afterward.

Meanwhile, Tristan sniffed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. When he was a child, he sometimes suffered from bad dreams and night terrors that were intense enough to jar him awake crying and sometimes even screaming. The anxiety he felt afterwards would keep him awake for hours.

It was an affliction that he had struggled with on and off since he was a toddler and that had gotten worse in the last couple of years before he moved in with Siegfried. When he was living with Mother in the same house as his cousin Nellie and her husband, Jack, Jack had severely berated him for waking him and Nellie up with his nightmares and would often force him to spend the next several nights in the attic so he and his wife would not be disturbed.

Siegfried, however, had responded to these night terrors by inviting Tristan to come sleep in his room whenever he wished. His thought being that these sleep disturbances would eventually fade once Tristan became used to the idea that he would always be secure while slumbering.

Granted, Tristan usually couldn't go right to sleep in his brother's room due to Siegfried's snoring. Still, it never took more than a few minutes to drift into unconsciousness and have a peaceful night, comforted by the knowledge that Siegfried was close by if he needed him. It certainly was far better than huddling under scratchy, threadbare blankets while trying to sleep on an old cot in a drafty attic with Jack's latest harsh words still ringing in his ears.

Tristan opened his eyes back up and watched Siegfried doze. Memories like that, little gestures of fraternal affection Siegfried had shown him over the years, weren't usually at the forefront of his mind when dealing with his elder brother. However, Tristan was certain that those memories were still influencing him. Still gently prodding him to overlook Siegfried's latest fit of ill temper and to exercise some patience when putting up with his brother's eccentricities.

Tristan reached over and put a hand on Siegfried's arm, grasping at his sleeve. As nervous as he was about what might happen while he was asleep, he knew he needed to try to get some rest. If not for himself than for Siegfried so he could be alert enough to take care of his brother and so he'd have the energy to continue to find a way to escape and get help.

"Good night, Siegfried," he whispered.

His eyelids heavy with exhaustion, he finally stopped resisting the urge to close them.