He booted the new-born calf again, lit himself a cigarette and grinned at Jake. ‘Feeling sorry for it, eh? Come on,’ he wheedled, softly. ‘Have some fun. You can have some bloody great fun with these little sods.’

‘No,’ said Jake. ‘It’s only a little baby.’

‘Useless bastard. Look!’ and he yanked up a leg of his victim. ‘See its nuts? Deserves everything it’s getting.’ Grinning widely, he slowly twisted its leg so that the animal cried again. ‘No use to us. Next to worthless.’

‘Don’t. Please don’t hurt him,’ said Jake. ‘It’s not his fault and he’s only a little baby.’

Darcy mimed a throat slitting. ‘Yeah,’ he jeered. ‘And that’s what’s going to happen to this little baby. Come on. You have a go. Boot the bugger.’

‘I will not,’ said Jake.

‘Aw, go on,’ grinned Darcy.

‘Let me take it down to the gate,’ said Jake. ‘I’ll put it in the pen down at the gate.’

‘Gee, kid, can’t have that. You’ve done enough for the day. You can leave it to me. I’m going to play footie with it all the way down the drive. Wait till you meet my mate, Gary, he’s from town. He’s even better than me with ‘em. Gary sure knows how to have a bit of fun with a bloody bobby-calf,’ Darcy laughed. ‘By the time good old Gary’s worked ‘em over, the buggers don’t know their arse from their elbow.’

Jake gulped. ‘I don’t mind taking it to the gate and putting it in the pen.’

Darcy lit himself another cigarette and grinned a smile of fake sincerity at Jake. ‘No, I feel like giving it a bit of help all on my own. Come on, useless. Get a move on.’ He used his boot on the calf again. ‘Move it!’

Most of the time Jake knew he couldn’t concern himself about the treatment of new-born calves and their mothers at the hands of the Pearsons. He knew he must keep his mind on the simple act of surviving in this harsh place where, he figured, he counted for little more than a bobby calf and, quite likely, a whole lot less than a bobby calf’s mother.