If you missed the beginning, you can find it here: Writing Bits 4 February 2019
The weight of the sled grinding into her knee made her suddenly come into the present moment. She must have hit her head on the way down, because she knew darn well that Jed was not there. Not only was he not there, but she knew he was hundreds of miles away right now visiting his brother. She’d put the pick-up in first gear letting it run along slowly while she fed to save herself some time. It had only stopped because they’d come to that little incline and with most of the bale still on the sled, the pick-up didn’t have the power to keep moving.
That weight on the sled was the front leg of a bull. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” This was not good. She looked around for the pitch fork she’d dropped when she’d gone down. It was half on and half off the sled. She gritted her teeth and stretched her fingers out, just reaching the metal of one of the tines. In her peripheral vision, she could see the other bulls making their way along the piles she’d already pitched. They were never satisfied until she finished feeding and they could work backwards through the piles back to the beginning.
Plunging the tines into the bull’s chest she yelled, “Get off! Get back!” The surprise of the poke more than her shaky scream moved him off the sled. Relief flooded out of a long breath. Now what?