With cold hands, as tense as the cobblestone on the barn floor, I walked behind the bearded goat and sat on a sturdy stool low to the ground.
Pieces of hay wafted around my ears and tickled my lips. The earthy smell of goat's droppings and sour milk made me breathe through my nose. There were no windows for light to come through. Just four bleak gray walls. We worked instead under a single flickering lamp above.
We each stat at a stool between the rows of hay. I sat between Ocean and Nate who were on their forth goat for milking. Mat and Evee had already finished milking their goats and were feeding their instead.
I held the stubborn white goat at its backside and pulled it closer to me. I tried to keep her steady, above the bucket that smelled of tarnished metal and cream. I had still only managed to get a few drops of my milk for all my labor.
I gripped my fingers under the goats round belly and pulled gently down, or so I thought.
"Baaaaaah," went the goat and kicked its legs back.
J swooped between the rows of the barn like a fierce wind with his white t-shirt stained yellow from old milk.
"Sssssh," I spoke into the goat's ear, but it was too late.
"Is there a problem over here?" J said from above, his voice deceptively calm.
"No," I said as a fired sparked in my already heated stomach, "I've just never milked a goat before."
"Clearly," J said, and pushed air out of his mouth.
J's slicing look reminded me of Ms. Clavette. I had spent enough time in Clavette's classroom to know, his silence did not mean stop working.
I extended my hand, under the goat's belly once more, this time shaking so much that I trembled from my fingers up to my teeth. I didn't dare look over my shoulders, but I didn't have to.
It felt as though a thousand eyes were piled on my back, waiting for me to mess -.
"Baaaaaaah," went the goat again and kicked over the bucket with its powerful back legs.
J threw up his hands and grunted loud enough to echo through the barn.
"Well, of course, Minnie's spooked! You'd be too if you had someone pulling at you like - like that!"
The others raised their head over the piles of hay to stare at me. I stayed seated, feeling no taller than the mice that ran through ducts of the barn.
J pointed his finger at me and then the ceiling. I followed his order and stood. J took my place on the stool and rubbed his hand together before placing them under the goat who was now silent in his presence.
"Steady, gentle and always in control," he recited, as the milk poured into the bucket in a steady stream, "She ain't gonna let just anyone do this. You have to let her know you're in control."
J stood and took the bucket of milk in his hand then pointed his finger at my face.
"You're lucky there was hardly a spit of milk in that bucket," he said, "Or you and me would have had a problem."
As J stomped away, I looked at down Minnie. Her white beard brushed against the hay on the barn floor as she gobbled it in large chomps with her buck teeth.
We were one thousand miles from the next home, and we needed to leave. Today, and not a day later.
We did have a problem, J. A nasty problem.