Maggie's eyes flew open and found themselves staring straight into the face of one of the smaller heifers. The entire left side of her face was covered in…

"Aaaarrrrrgh!!" Maggie screamed.

Uncle Pete came running, grabbed the heifer, chained her to the metal frame, rushed back over to Maggie and made sure she wasn't bleeding or protruding any bones. The situation assessed, he stepped back and looked at her, bunched up into a ball on the hay-ridden floor, her hair matted from the spit and her skin still shiny with saliva. He grinned. Chuckled. Looked around to make sure no one else was in the vicinity. Then full on belly laughed, eventually joining Maggie on the floor of the barn.

"You've really never milked cows, have you?"

"Isn't that what I said?"

"I thought you were just trying to get out of it. Everyone does. They think I'm a grouch ."
Uncle Pete stood up and reached for her hand, pulling her to her feet.
"How ‘bout I show you the right way to milk cows? Then you can teach all your city friends. Hell, you can teach my too-cool, lazy nephews for all I care. All you have to do is keep me company."

"Okay."

"Turkey's ready!" a voice called out from somewhere in the middle of the house.

Uncle Pete turned to walk back into the barn, Maggie tight on his heels, expectantly eyeing the rows of heifers with suspicion.
"Oh, and thanks Maggie," he said, turning back to face her.

"For what?"

“That was the funniest thing I've ever seen."

She followed him back into the barn, kicking up shit in her wake.
The corners of her mouth couldn't help but turn upwards. Slightly.