Kicked or Trampled by Livestock

The team spooked, you went down, and the herd went over you, hooves like falling anvils, one after another, until somebody dragged you out by the collar. The pelvis is broken, ribs are stove in, and the doctor's hands come away from your belly with a look he cannot hide. What is crushed inside will declare itself over the next days, and 1899 has no surgery that goes in after it.

• Bedridden on a board, pelvis bound, you do not stand this week; carried or nothing for 4 days minimum
• Ribs strapped; every breath is measured out like coin
• Dark bruising across the belly the doctor checks by the hour
• /me lies flat on the board, gripping the edges when the wagon jolts

Recovery Weeks flat and bound under a doctor if the inside held; if it did not, the fever and the sinking come inside three days, and no one can stop them.·Doctor, urgently

The kick caught you square in the jaw and the world went white. You came to in the straw spitting teeth, three of them, with the jawbone broken and grinding when you try to speak. The doctor wires and binds it shut, and everything you say and eat for a good while will come through clenched teeth.

• Jaw bound and wired, speak only through clenched teeth, barely above a mumble, for 5 days
• Broth, mash, and whatever fits through a gap; no solid food for 5 days
• Three teeth gone, a whistle in your speech and a gap in your grin
• /me talks through a bound jaw, half the words surrendering on the way out

Recovery A week wired and sipping supper; untreated the bone knits crooked and chewing is never the same bargain again.·Doctor, urgently

Both barrels, the mule fired with everything and took you full in the chest. The sternum is cracked, and one breath in three catches on something sharp inside. The doctor listens long with his ear to your ribs, hunting for the sound of a nicked lung, and straps you so tight you creak.

• Chest strapped, no lifting, hauling, riding hard, or raising your voice for 5 days
• A cough or sneeze folds you in half; folk learn not to make you laugh
• A hoof-shaped bruise dead center on your chest, print-perfect

Recovery 6 days strapped under a doctor's watch; if the lung is nicked, working through it can drown you slow.·Doctor, urgently

The bull shouldered you flat and walked its front half across you on the way past. Ribs cracked under one hoof and your thigh took another, a deep muscle crush that swells like dough and stiffens to timber by morning. Ugly, deep, and slow, but the doctor finds nothing broken inside, and says so twice before you believe him.

• Cracked ribs strapped, shallow breathing and no lifting for 5 days
• A crushed thigh that barely bends, walk with a cane for 4 days
• Hoofprint bruises you will be showing at the bathhouse for two weeks
• /me lowers into a chair by inches, ribs and thigh negotiating each one

Recovery 6 days with strapping and rest, 10 without while the thigh knots and pulls.·Doctor required

You threw your arm up as the hoof came and the hoof won, a clean crack through one forearm bone, the arm bending slightly where arms do not bend. The doctor sets it with a wooden splint and plaster and hangs it in a sling, and you are a one-handed citizen for a stretch.

• Forearm splinted and slung, no use of that arm for 5 days
• Buttons, boots, and saddle cinches all become favors you owe people
• /me signs their name slow and crooked with the wrong hand

Recovery Splinted 5 days before light use, weeks to full strength; unset, it knits crooked and aches every winter after.·Doctor required

You turned your back on the ram, which is the one thing everyone tells you not to do. It hit you like a rolling barrel and sent you into the rock pile, cracking two ribs against the granite. The ram grazes on, satisfied. The rocks bear no grudge. Your ribs bear two.

• Cracked ribs wrapped, no lifting or brawling for 4 days
• Rock scrapes down one forearm, cleaned and scabbing
• You keep the ram in view at all times now, and folk notice

Recovery 5 days wrapped, 8 if you keep working the pens like nothing happened.·Doctor required

The cow kicked sideways as you passed and took your leg clean out from under you, a hoof to the outer thigh that dead-legged you into the muck. The muscle is crushed, not torn, and it seizes to stone overnight. Walking looks like an impression of a wooden soldier for days.

• Dead-legged thigh, stiff wooden gait, walk never sprint, for 3 days
• Cannot kneel or squat without a rail to haul yourself back up, for 3 days
• /me walks stiff-legged past the cow pen, giving it the full width of the yard

Recovery 4 days of hobble and liniment, 6 if you refuse to sit still.·Doctor required

The ox shifted its weight while your hand was flat on the ground, and a quarter ton settled on your fingers with the patience of the innocent. Nothing shattered, the doctor judges, but the hand swells into a mitt, two nails go black, and your grip is a rumor for days.

• Swollen, hoof-pressed hand, no gun hand, no rope work for 3 days
• Two black fingernails that will be conversation pieces until they fall
• /me lifts a coffee cup two-handed like it is a christening

Recovery 4 days for the swelling, longer for the nails, which are on their own schedule.·Doctor required

The hoof grazed your hip instead of landing square, enough to spin you into the fence and paint a deep bruise from belt to mid-thigh. You walked it off in front of the hands because pride demanded it, and paid the balance in private all evening.

• A deep hip bruise, noticeable hitch in your stride for 3 days
• Sleeping on one side only until further notice
• /me leans on the fence rail, easing weight off the hip like it is casual

Recovery 3 days for the hitch, a week for the bruise to finish its sunset.·Doctor advised

The kick clipped the side of your head, a graze, or you would not be reading this, and rang your bell into next week. A gash above the ear, a lump like half an egg, and a day where sunlight is too loud and everyone asks you the year at intervals.

• A stitched gash above the ear under a lump of note
• Headache and dizzy spells, no riding and no ladders for 2 days
• Bright light and loud rooms are your enemies for 2 days

Recovery 3 days of quiet; if the sick and the dizziness worsen instead of fade, get to the doctor at a run.·Doctor advised

The heifer kicked low and caught your shin dead on the bone, a split in the skin, a lump on the bone, and the special ringing pain that only a shin delivers. Nothing broken. Everything offended. You hear the crack replayed in your mind at odd hours.

• A split, lumped shin, limping openly for 3 days
• Boot shaft pressure is misery; you ride with one boot loose for 2 days
• /me pulls up a trouser leg to display the lump to a wincing audience

Recovery 3 days of limping, a bump on the bone for a month as a keepsake.·Doctor advised

The ox leaned, the stall wall held, and you were the argument between them. A slow crush, ribs creaking, breath squeezed to a whisper, until it shifted its feet and let you slide free. Bruised ribs and a healthy new policy about where you stand.

• Bruised ribs, careful breaths and no heavy lifting for 3 days
• A flat, board-shaped bruise across your back where the stall held
• /me squeezes past the stock with exaggerated clearance, back to the wall

Recovery 3 days of tender ribs, 5 to forgive the ox.·Doctor advised

The kick was half-hearted, a warning shot from a cow with a full schedule, but it still caught your forearm hard enough to leave a hoof-edge welt from wrist to elbow. The arm works. It just complains about it, loudly and often.

• A welted forearm, sore to the grip for 2 days
• Lifting the coffee pot with that arm is a two-stage decision for 2 days
• /me rolls up a sleeve to compare the welt to a hoof, and it matches

Recovery 2 days of soreness, gone by the third.·Doctor advised

The cow stamped square on your toes, and the stout boot leather took the day. The toes come out bruised but whole, and the boot wears a hoof crease across the cap that no polish will ever raise. Cheap tuition, all considered.

• Bruised toes, a slight favoring of one foot for 2 days
• A hoof-creased boot cap, permanent, like a signature

Recovery A day or two; the boot took the real sentence.·No doctor needed

The ram's headbutt caught you behind the knees and sat you down in the mud with your arms full of feed bucket, which emptied itself over you as a finishing touch. Bruised pride, a bruised tailbone, and a ram standing over you chewing, unrepentant.

• A bruised tailbone, sitting is a considered act for 2 days
• Feed in your hair and collar for the rest of the day, findable for longer
• /me lowers onto the bench sideways, one careful haunch at a time

Recovery 2 days; the mud washes out faster than the memory.·No doctor needed

You saw the leg cock and jerked back, and the hoof snapped past close enough to fan your shirt, but its edge nicked your hip on the way, a scrape and a shallow bruise instead of a caved pelvis. The difference was three inches and one good instinct.

• A scraped, bruised hip, tender under the belt for 2 days
• You now announce yourself to every animal like a nervous butler

Recovery A day or two; carry the lesson longer.·No doctor needed

The spooked steer shouldered you off your feet and you flew a short, undignified arc into the haystack, which received you like an old friend. You climb out sneezing, wearing half the stack, with one elbow scraped raw where it clipped the rake handle on the way in.

• A scraped elbow, cleaned and wrapped for 1 day
• /me sneezes and pulls another straw from inside their shirt, hours later

Recovery A day; the hay did the doctoring.·No doctor needed

The kick came true and hard, dead into the milking pail you happened to be holding at exactly the right height. The pail crossed the barn like a comet, milk trailing, and clattered off the far wall bent into a new shape entirely. Your hands sting from the handle. That is the whole of it.

• Stinging palms for an hour or two, nothing more
• One pail, folded like a hat, kept on a shelf as a warning to the others

Recovery Nothing to heal; mourn the milk.·No doctor needed

The team bolted and you went down between them, and every hoof of the spooked pair missed you. Eight chances, no takers. The wagon passed over you with room to spare while you lay flat counting the axle bolts, and you rolled out the back untouched into the shouting.

• Not a mark beyond dusty clothes and a pounding heart
• /me lies still a moment longer than needed, then rises like a resurrection

Recovery Nothing to heal; buy yourself the good whiskey tonight.·No doctor needed

The mule fired both hooves at your chest, into the oak yoke you were carrying on your shoulder. The yoke exploded to kindling, the mule ran, and you were spun in a full circle like a weathervane and set down on your feet, still holding a splintered stub in each hand. The teamsters take their hats off. One of them keeps a splinter.

• Untouched, the yoke died so you did not
• Bragging rights: you took a mule kick and stayed standing
• /me holds up the splintered stub of yoke, which requires no caption

Recovery Nothing to heal; the yoke is past saving and the story is immortal.·No doctor needed