The steers had been corralled at dusk into the pen adjacent the barn by the farmer’s sons—adolescents ordered to aid the vet who shared no grand ambition to take over, talking instead about movies or about traveling to exotic places like California and Florida as they worked. A fierce rain had fallen soon after and had halted the work but now the boys were feeding them one by one into the squeeze chute, pinning them in place while Lucas’s cramped hands plunged the syringe into the beasts’ veined necks.
Thanks to Pithead Chapel for publishing the story—I’m honored to be part of such a great journal.