Moo Read online

  a tangled, matted knot of hair

  and pulled hard and

  that big head swung toward me

  and knocked against my arm

  scolding me

  as a wide swath of mucus

  dripped out of her nose

  and down my sleeve.

  Her wet slobbery tongue

  slapped against my wrist.

  She lifted her tail

  unleashing a wide, steamy stream

  of

  urine

  sp

  lash

  ing

  my pants and boots.

  Oh, that’s good! Luke called from the fence.

  I’m gonna draw that!

  About that time, along came Paulie the pig. He dashed toward and beneath Zora, who kicked at him, and, missing him, Zora got me instead.

  That pig! What good is that pig? I yelled.

  Mrs. Falala poked her head out of the barn door and said, Paulie eez part of family. What if someone ask your mama what good are you?

  LONELY

  On my bike

  riding to Mrs. Falala’s

  Luke ahead of me

  bobbing his head

  and singing a song

  he made up as he pedaled:

  Gonna ride, ride,

  gonna fly, fly,

  gonna zip, zip . . .

  And I felt lucky

  that Luke was with me

  that I wasn’t wandering

  this new town

  alone.

  We pulled into Mrs. Falala’s drive

  stashed our bikes

  put on our work clothes

  and found Zora

  still in her stall

  standing against the rail

  her head hanging low

  and

  something popped in my chest

  sending bubbles floating up to my brain.

  Luke, I said, Zora is lonely.

  Aw, Luke said.

  Aw, poor Zora.

  I entered the stall

  and approached Zora slowly.

  Gently I stroked her neck.

  You’re lonely, aren’t you, girl?

  Zora moved her head

  toward me.

  She rested her head against

  my arm.

  That day I told Mrs. Falala

  that Zora was lonely

  that Zora needed company

  that she must be very sad

  to be all alone.

  Mrs. Falala mashed her lips

  together and said,

  Zora eez not alone.

  I am here.

  Paulie the pig eez here.

  So eez Cat, so eez Parrot,

  so eez Edna Snake.

  I said,

  But there are no other cows.

  No one for her to lean against.

  No one for her to talk to.

  Mrs. Falala said nothing.

  She turned around and

  walked back to the house

  that long white braid

  swinging slowly

  left to right

  right to left.

  FOG

  Down to the harbor

  early one Saturday morning

  Mom and Dad and me and Luke

  before

  the tourists swarmed

  before

  the stores opened.

  Soft, gray

  fffffffog

  hovered

  over the water

  masking the moored boats.

  We climbed down to the small

  stretch of beach

  seaweed and mussel shells

  splayed across the rocks.

  Fish smell and salt air

  mast creaks and rope jangles.

  And as we stood there

  the fog rose

  slowly, surely,

  revealing first the hulls

  and then the masts

  of wooden vessels

  their sails

  rolled

  into

  cocoons

  and lobster boats wave-rolling

  and red-blue-yellow buoys bobbing.

  My mother said,

  Oh!

  Did you ever see anything

  like that

  ever

  in your life?

  And I was thinking that

  I never saw anything like

  everything I was seeing

  never saw anything like

  those everythings

  ever

  in

  my

  life.

  Sometimes I had to

  close my eyes

  to rest them from

  all the new everythings

  pouring in.

  DREAMS

  At night I dreamed of Zora

  of her wide furry body

  and her giant head

  and her huge black eyes

  and in the dreams

  I combed her

  and talked with her

  and she was warm

  and comforting

  and I smelled the sawdust

  in her stall

  and felt the softness of her fur

  and in the dream

  she talked to me.

  She said

  Yes, I am lonely.

  Yes, I am.

  So I stroked her

  and combed her

  and told her

  that I would find

  some company

  for her.

  PLANS

  I was nervous, nervous, but I geared up my courage and talked first to Beat and Zep and then to the owners of Birchmere Farm. I was afraid they would laugh at me, but they didn’t.

  Of course, they said. She needs to be around other cows. Of course.

  They said that I could bring Zora to their farm where there was plenty of room and plenty of other cows, as long as I took care of her.

  Zora comes from a long line of Grand Champions, Mr. Birch said. Did you know that?

  No, I did not.

  And she should show well as long as you can keep that temper of hers under control.

  Beat and Zep would help me train Zora and they would train me, too, so that I would know how to show Zora at the fair.

  A long line of Grand Champions!

  That sounded impressive, didn’t it? It sounded like a perfect plan, right?

  A LONG LINE

  Mrs. Falala was not so excited about the plan.

  Move Zora? Take my Zora? That eez not happening.

  But she would have company, I said. Lots and lots of company.

  Mrs. Falala waved my words away with one hand.

  I am the company of Zora, Mrs. Falala said. Me and Edna and Paulie and China and Crockett. We are plenty company.

  Mrs. Falala sat on the hay bale that had become her regular seat for drawing with Luke. Patting the bale next to her, she opened her notebook and looked up at Luke expectantly.

  But, I persisted, look how sad Zora seems. Look how she hangs her head. Listen to those sad moos.

  That eez not sad hanging head! Mrs. Falala snapped. Those are not sad moos. Those are normal cow moos and normal cow heads.

  I said, I hear Zora comes from a long line of Grand Champions.

  Mrs. Falala clicked her tongue and tapped her pencil on her notebook. You want to see Grand Champions? she said. Go look in barn, past the halters, go on, you go look,

  Luke and I have drawing to do.

  Along a wooden rail

  at one end of the barn

  near the halters and ropes

  and rakes and shovels

  and buckets and barrels

  hung a row of photos

  the images clouded over

  with dust and cobwebs.

  With a rag, I cleared away the glass.

  In each was a Beltie

  and a young woman

  holding a medallion and blue ribbon:

  Grand Champion.

&
nbsp; I looked closely at the women and wondered if maybe they were all the same person, growing older.

  I returned to Mrs. Falala and Luke, their heads bent over their notebooks.

  That’s you, isn’t it? I said. In those photographs with the Grand Champions—that’s you.

  Mrs. Falala said, I lie down now. Abruptly, she stood and returned to the house, calling behind her, Don’t take my Zora.

  A FRIEND

  When Beat and Zep heard about Mrs. Falala’s refusal to move Zora to Birchmere Farm, Zep offered to bring one of his own heifers to Mrs. Falala’s.

  To keep Zora company, Zep said, to be an example for Zora.

  Beat chimed in, Oh, yes! You should send Yolanda, definitely Yolanda.

  Yolanda was smaller than Zora, quiet and sweet. She didn’t bump us or slobber on us or whack her tail at us.

  We were excited to tell Mrs. Falala about this offer, so excited that we didn’t wait until the next morning. We found Mrs. Falala walking up her drive, trailed by China, the golden fat cat. We told her the news—that Zep had offered to bring Yolanda over to keep Zora company.

  Luke was clapping his hands to try to contain his excitement.

  But Mrs. Falala was not excited. She carried on walking. I am telling you that Zora already has company and besides who would take care of that extra animal? You think I want that extra work? And who would pay for the grain?

  Luke and I stopped. We turned our bikes around.

  And then we heard a loud

  Mooooo

  and then more

  Mooooo, mooooo, mooooooooo.

  Luke said, Zora is calling us, Reena. We can’t just leave without saying hello.

  We left our bikes and walked up to the barn where we found Zora nudging her huge nose against a rail.

  Mooooo. Mooooo.

  It was a friendly sound that day, and when we reached her, she leaned her head against my arm.

  Luke patted her side. There, there, he whispered. Don’t be lonely, Zora. We are here.

  Mrs. Falala came up behind us. Okay, okay, okay, she said. The friend cow can come but only for a visit, only a week or two, and you have to take care of it. Are you hearing me?

  Yes, yes! We are hearing you!

  We stayed longer and cleaned out the bay

  and refilled the grain bin

  and led Zora around the pasture

  and hosed her off

  and combed her hair

  and told her about

  the new cow friend

  Yolanda

  who would come the next day.

  As we were leaving, Mrs. Falala

  clicked her tongue and said,

  Paulie will be jealous.

  The pig? Luke said.

  Why would Paulie be jealous?

  Because he’ll want a friend, too,

  Mrs. Falala said.

  She turned her back on us

  and swung that long braid

  left and right

  and disappeared into her house.

  YOLANDA ARRIVES

  Zep and Beat and Mr. Birch from the farm brought Yolanda in the truck to Mrs. Falala’s. Yolanda was all cleaned up for the occasion: her fur shiny and smooth, her hooves clean, and her head and neck boasting a new green bridle.

  Zep led her to the outdoor pen where Zora was standing, munching on a bit of hay. Both Zora and Yolanda lifted their heads but did not make a sound.

  Zora flicked her tail.

  Yolanda flicked her tail.

  We stood by the fence watching, me and Luke and Zep and Beat. I looked back toward the house and saw Mrs. Falala at the kitchen window, but she quickly ducked out of the way.

  Zora seemed confused. Her head moved slowly, taking in

  Yolanda

  and all of us at the fence. She backed up.

  I was so nervous. I feared Zora would kick Yolanda or bellow at her or butt her with her big head.

  The two of them

  stood there

  and

  stood there

  and

  stood there

  and

  stood there.

  Urggggg!

  It was so frustrating

  so nerve-wracking

  the watching

  and waiting.

  A mud ball emerged

  from around the back of the barn:

  Paulie the pig

  snorting and snuffling

  covered with mud.

  He squeezed under

  the bottom rail of the fence

  and into the pen

  and straight over to Yolanda

  snorting and snuffling

  and sniffing

  while

  Yolanda stood perfectly still

  and then China the cat

  her back arched

  her fur on end

  zoomed into view

  and under the rail

  circling Yolanda

  while

  Yolanda stood perfectly still

  and then

  Crockett the parrot

  flapped and squawked

  up and over the fence

  and onto Yolanda’s back

  while

  Yolanda stood perfectly still.

  And at last Zora moved.

  She approached Yolanda.

  She nudged Paulie and China away

  and she batted her head at Crockett

  sending the parrot flying off.

  Zora sidled up to Yolanda

  and the two stood there

  side by side

  making no sound.

  They just

  stood there

  and

  stood there

  and

  stood there.

  TRAINING

  For an hour each day, Zep joined us at Mrs. Falala’s to work with Yolanda and to show me how to train Zora for two events at the upcoming fair. One event would judge the cows and one would judge the people showing the cows. I asked Zep if the judging was done in front of an audience.

  Zep leaned his forehead close to mine. He said, Well, you’re not going to show Zora in a closet. You afraid of an audience?

  No, I am not. I just have no idea what to expect.

  You don’t think you can handle it?

  I can handle it, Zep. And even if I couldn’t, I wasn’t going to admit it to him.

  You’ll have to work really hard to get Zora ready and to learn what to do—

  —I can work hard—

  —and I’ll help you.

  My mouth flopped open like a thirsty dog.

  Zep smiled his slow, full smile and turned his head to one side.

  I was embarrassed down to the tips of my boots. I wanted to be able to train Zora right and show her well, and I needed his help.

  We practiced out in the pasture, the heifers tethered to us by their halters.

  Heads up, Zep said, you and Zora. Back straight. Follow me. Watch.

  Zora was not cooperative. I tugged. I pulled. Three steps forward. Stop. Tug. Pull. Five steps. She was being stubborn and ornery. Meanwhile, Zep and Yolanda moved on smoothly, walking a wide circle with no stopping and no tugging.

  Luke and Mrs. Falala were sitting on the hay bales drawing. From time to time they glanced up at us and then back to their paper.

  Zora moved forward and, mid-stride, dropped a plop of manure.

  What if she does that in the show?

  They all do it, Zep said. It’s natural.

  But everybody’s walking round and round and stepping in it?

  Nah, there’ll be pickers there. They scoop it up.

  Well, then: manure plops and pickers and scooping. It was natural, right?

  The training was harder than I expected. Most days it was hot and dusty, and after coaxing Zora to let me halter her and lead her around, my arms and legs were weak with fatigue. Then I still had to tend to her food and water and clean out her pen. But the surprising thing to me was that I liked doing it. I liked
the hard work. I liked seeing Zora respond a little more each day, and I liked feeling stronger.

  Luke helped me with cleaning out the pen and brushing Zora, and I could tell that he liked it, too. He wanted to be in charge of cleaning out the buckets and hanging up the brushes and halters. He talked to Zora and Yolanda all the time, letting them know that they were good cows. Not lumpy at all, he told them.

  Luke was less afraid of Mrs. Falala now, too. He wasn’t flinching when she sat beside him on the hay bales, and she wasn’t barking so many orders at us. Often, I saw her and Luke talking while they drew, side by side.

  Little changes, day by day.

  RAIN DAY

  One day as Luke and I were halfway to Mrs. Falala’s

  the rain began

  p

  d

  o

  o

  u

  w

  r

  n

  i

  n

  g

  in straight torrents from the skies

  drenching us

  our shirts plastered to our skin

  our hair flattened on our heads.

  We raced to the barn

  just as lightning

  cracked

  and

  F L A S H E D

  and thunder

  booooooooomed

  and

  rumbled

  overhead.

  We cowered in the stall beside Zora and Yolanda

  who were lying side by side in the sawdust.

  It smelled of cows and rain and piney chips

  and their fur was warm and soft

  as we leaned against them.

  And I thought I could stay all day

  right there

  cradled

  by

  cows.

  SAD ZEP

  Zep arrived one morning looking limp—

  as if someone had let the air out of his body

  no trace of a smile

  sad, sad, droopy mouth

  eyes swollen and red.

  He went quickly to Yolanda and Zora

  and rubbed his hand across their heads

  and sides

  and looked into their eyes

  and touched their wet noses

  and turned to us and said

  that one of the cows at Birchmere

  had died

  in the night.

  He found her lying on her side

  in her stall

  her head against the wall

  her legs tucked daintily beneath her.

  Died? Luke said.

  Died? How could a cow die?

  Zep blinked

  oncetwicethreetimes.