“We’re supposed to fit all this in there?” Laurie clutched her work gloves in one hand. The yellow leather showed between thin, twitching fingers, as if she couldn’t decide whether to turn them in or toss them to the ground. She settled for clutching the buckskin with both hands.
“The herd is just over 1,450, and we’ve got to sort them all for auction, herd, and colony,” Wayne drawled. He handed her a long pole with a flapping piece of plastic dangling from one end. “Don’t worry. You just pay attention to what’s going on and keep the gates open or closed. We’ll get the bison herd where they need to go.”
“So what’s this?” She grasped the pole tentatively with the same hands as the gloves.
“Wave it to keep them moving when they’re angry about being herded into the chute for health checks.” He picked up her cowboy hat and plopped it on her braids. “You’ll know. Don’t worry so much. Let your instincts take over, yeah?”
Laurie watched Wayne walk over to the other hands, slapping them on the shoulder casually. She was the only rookie this year, and the only woman, but this job promised access to the colonies after three seasons. The only way off-planet faster involved things she wasn’t willing to do.
Her eyes fell on the spaceport that towered over the Black Hills. Who’d have thought that bison would not only make a comeback in North America, but start populating space?
“Ayy!” Wayne yelled. “Pay attention!”
Hooves thundered, with the air filling with angry snorts. Shaking, she unbolted the gate and hid behind the metal bars, hoping it was the sufficient protection the head gamekeeper had promised.
***
This week’s prompt was from Leigh Kimmel: We’re supposed to fit *all this* in there?
Mine went to nother Mike: To everyone’s relief, the cow declined the offer of a flight home.
Find more, over at More Odds Than Ends!
