Page 40 of Rachel’s Pudding Pantry

Chapter 17

THE CATTLE ARE LOWING

The next morning, after checking on the hens, Rachel was striding across the yard towards the trill of the house phone. She daren’t run with a basketful of eggs. She heard it stop and then start all over again. She wasn’t sure where Mum was, maybe out hanging the washing in the garden. Rachel placed the eggs down at the front door and ran in, in case it was Maisy’s school or something.

‘Rach-el?’ The voice was male and sounded gruff.

‘Ye-es.’

‘There’s a bull and a dozen or so of your cows and calves trampling all over my barley crop. I suggest you get yourself over here right away.’ She recognised the deep, angry tones of old Mr Macintosh, their neighbouring farmer, whose land was on the opposite side from Tom.

Oh shit.Cows could do some serious damage if left to their own devices. They must have broken through the adjoining hedge somehow. And yes, Mr Mac would be extremely grumpy if his crop was ruined. Shite. Shite.

She was already grabbing the Land Rover keys as she replied, ‘I’m right on my way, Mr Macintosh. Which field are they in?’

‘Ah, you’ll see them soon enough, lassie. They’re in the one right by the road when you come along the lane.’

She suddenly thought better of going on her own. Cattle were often a nightmare to herd, especially if they got themselves into a panic.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ She put the phone down and ran to the garden where, as she’d guessed, her mum was hanging out the clothes to dry.

‘Mum, can you give me a hand? The bloody cows have got out.’

‘Oh blimey, is Macduff leading his ladies astray again?’ Macduff was their Aberdeen Angus bull, a huge and rather handsome, but wayward, black beast. Jill raised her eyebrows exasperatedly as she quickly pegged out the shirt that was in her hands, leaving the rest in the basket. ‘Right then, where are they?’

‘Sounds like they’re trampling all over Farmer Mac’s barley crop. He’s not a happy man.’

‘Damn. No, I don’t suppose he will be. And that’s one neighbour we don’t want to get on the wrong side of.’

Rachel started relaying the phone call as they leapt into the truck.

‘Oh blimey, this is a nightmare.’ Jill went a bit pale.

The two of them knew all too well the havoc that even a few escapee cows could cause. The Land Rover engine rumbled into life and they set off, leaving a trail of dust on the farm track. They stayed quiet, feeling anxious, as they zipped the half mile along the lane.

It was so hard keeping the perimeter fencing in check. Rachel would go out on the quad regularly to take a look, but all it took was one weak link and a tasty-looking crop in the next-door field, and the weight of a bull would bring it down in no time, leaving a nice pathway for the rest of the herd to follow. Oh my, she hoped they hadn’t done too much damage already. Mr Mac had sounded furious.

Soon enough, they had passed Eve’s cottage and were further along the lane, approaching the neighbouring farm gate. The field next to it was sporting a crop of barley shoots. And, yes, there they were, a dozen or so of their errant cattle plus their new calves with a frazzled-looking Mr Macintosh with a large stick in his hand, desperately attempting to herd them to the set-aside verge of the field, trying his best to keep them off his precious crop. But as Rachel got out of the Land Rover, she could see the tell-tale hoof marks and a trail of trampling from the adjoining field. Aargh!

She leapt out of the vehicle. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Macintosh.’

‘Aye, well there’s no time to mess about. Let’s get them rounded up and off my land. I’ll be wanting some kind of compensation for the damage, mind!’

‘Of course, of course,’ Jill reassured him from her stance beside Rachel.

From the magic pot of money they didn’t have, Rachel mused with a heavy heart.

‘Let’s herd them this way to the gate,’ Rachel suggested. ‘And I’ll take them down the road way and home. Okay?’

‘Aye, that’ll stop them crushing my crop further.’

‘Mum, will you go ahead and stop any traffic on the road?’

‘Yes, love.’

‘Come on,’ Rachel started calling as firmly yet calmly as she could, as she raised her arms in a sweeping action. Mr Mac had stirred them up enough already with his hollering; what they needed was calm assertion. ‘Come on Macduff. Come on cows.’

Mr Mac got behind them; they were quite happily chewing his set-aside grass now. They looked up nonchalantly, then started slowly shifting. Once Macduff got himself moving, the others started to follow, thank heavens.

Mr Mac jumped on his quad and that rallied them along further, with Rachel walking with arms spread widely and encouraging shouts, keeping the herd together. With Jill ahead, they went on down the lane, back up their own farm track, and Jill opened the gate on the first grass field they got to. The cattle could go in with the sheep for now, she’d herd them on later, back into their original field, once she’d had a chance to look at that damaged fence line.

‘Sorry again, Mr Mac.’ Rachel was extremely apologetic as she closed the field gate. The frazzled farmer was by her side on his quad with the engine running – the noise seemingly grumbling away at her.

‘What a palaver.’ Mr Mac was shaking his head. ‘Mark my words, I’ll be in touch about the damage, mind.’

Oh yes, she was sure he would. He’d probably be miffed that she’d rejected his measly offer on the land too. She sighed to herself; yet more money to come out of the dwindling pot. Argh, there was always something.

As the old farmer turned his quad to go, she heard him mutter, ‘Tsk, bloody women playing at farming.’

Rachel felt her face flame, and the heat rise up her neck. The damned cheek of it. Things went wrong at times with all farmers, men or women. In fact, she was sure there was a time when she was little when his cows had made their way into Primrose Farm. Her dad had been furious as there’d been some risk of disease. Some people sure did have short memories and quick tongues.