Free Sample
Preview from chapter one
The early morning sun streamed through the gaps in the barn's wooden planks, casting a warm, golden glow across the hay-covered floor. Amber, a 27-year-old farm girl, had rolled out of bed with the same enthusiasm she had every day since she could remember. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun, her oversized flannel shirt hanging loosely over her curves, which her tight jeans accentuated. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and her green eyes sparkled with the promise of the day ahead. As she strode into the barn, her heavy boots echoing against the wooden structure, she felt a familiar sense of belonging that only the farm could give her. She had her morning ritual down to a science, and she cherished every moment of it.
Amber looked over at the calfs, their hungry eyes watching her expectantly. She grabbed a handful of grain from the large bucket and approached the first calf with a gentle smile. "Good morning, little one," she cooed, her voice soft and comforting. As she reached out to feed it, the calf nuzzled against her hand, eager for breakfast. "Alright, let's get you all fed," she said to the group, her voice carrying the same warmth as the sun outside.
The calfs jostled and bellowed around her, their tails swishing in excitement. She chuckled, feeling the energy of the young animals. Amber took a deep breath, filling her nose with the scent of fresh straw and livestock. Despite the early hour, she felt invigorated. Her eyes wandered over the barn's interior, noticing the way the light played with the dust motes in the air. It was a simple life, but it was her life, and she wouldn't trade it for anything.
Amber's gaze shifted from the playful calfs to the more stoic cows, standing patiently in their stalls. She knew each one by name and the peculiarities of their personalities. Approaching Bessie, a stately Holstein with a gentle disposition, she patted the cow's flank before reaching for the milking machine's suction tubes. The cool metal felt good in her hand as she carefully attached the cups to the teats, ensuring a proper seal. The machine whirred to life, and the rhythmic sound of milk filling the collection bucket soon followed. As she worked, Amber's thoughts drifted to the long list of chores ahead. The farm was a never-ending cycle of work, but she found peace in the routine. Each cow had its own way of letting her know when they were ready for the next step, a flick of the tail or a low moo, and she responded instinctively, her hands moving with the precision of a seasoned farmer.