A Star Discovered (8 page)

12

News Travels Fast

CONTRARY TO MARY’S prediction, both she and Jody fell asleep from exhaustion the moment their heads hit the pillows at Jody’s
house. When they awoke the next morning, they decided to clear their heads by taking a ride around the farm on Lady and Gypsy.
They had been so busy in the previous months getting Star ready for the show that they had almost neglected their two ponies.

The ride to Lucky Foot Stable on their bikes was a silent one, each lost in her own thoughts and unwilling to share them.
Jody was almost afraid to see Star with the possibility in the back of her mind that she might soon be parted from him. And
Mary’s brain was working overtime trying to come up with a plan to prevent just such a thing from happening.

As they pedaled up the gravel driveway of the farm, Star’s cheerful whinny of greeting from the paddock gate made Jody burst
into tears again.

“Oh, Mary, what are we going to do?” she whimpered as the girls parked their bikes just outside Lucky Foot.

“Now, first you’ve got to stop crying,” Mary said cheerfully, trying to keep from crying herself. “We can’t be morose. I looked
that up, and it means, ‘having a gloomy disposition.’ Now, we’re going to get Lady and Gypsy out of the pasture and get them
ready to ride. We haven’t even told them what’s happening! Maybe if we talk about it some more, we’ll get some ideas.”

The last thing Jody wanted to do was talk about it, but she knew Mary was right.

So the girls made sure that Star had plenty of hay and water in his paddock, grabbed two lead ropes and a carrot, and ran
out to the big pasture. There they found Lady and Gypsy, who were taking a long refreshing drink from the creek.

“Lady! Gypsy! We’re here!” Mary called. “We know you’ve missed us!”

Lady and Gypsy responded by turning their heads in unison with water still dripping from their lips, and their ears pricked
up at the sight of the girls galloping toward them. Mary and Jody slowed to a walk when they drew near the ponies and Mary
broke the carrot into two equal pieces, handing one to Jody. At the sight of the carrots, the ponies nick-ered softly and
trotted over to receive their treats.

“Just like old times,” Mary murmured. Jody felt tears welling up once more in her eyes as Lady munched happily on the carrot.
She shook her head and wiped them away, determined not to be
morose
.

As they led Lady and Gypsy to Lucky Foot, the girls shared the whole story of the dilemma with them, and although the ponies
could offer no solutions, of course, it did help a little to talk about it. Once inside the stable, the girls gave them a
quick grooming job—a lick and a promise, as Mary put it. Then they bridled them up and were off on their tour of the farm.

“Let’s ride up to the house and see if Mrs. McMurray is around,” Mary suggested. “She’s always in a cheery mood.”

As the girls rode up the gravel lane, they saw up ahead a little towheaded boy playing in the sandbox in the tiny front yard
of the house trailer where Annie lived with her family.

“Look, Mare, isn’t that Heath out there all by himself?” Jody asked.

Just as the words escaped Jody’s lips, Annie appeared in the doorway of the trailer with a bottle of juice in her hand.

“Mare, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t really feel like talking to Annie right now,” Jody whispered from the corner of
her mouth. “Let’s just trot on by and wave.”

“I know, she might ask how Star’s doing or something, and I don’t really want to tell her about it just yet,” Mary agreed.

So the girls clucked to the ponies and picked up a trot just as Annie came out into the yard to give Heath his juice.

“Hey, Annie, how’re ya doin’?” Mary called out as they trotted past, waving merrily as if it was just another ordinary day.

“Hey,” Annie replied and waved back. Then, as the girls continued trotting up the gravel drive, Annie yelled, “Sorry to hear
about Star!”

Mary and Jody slowed to a walk and looked at each other in surprise. “Well, I guess she already knows,” Mary said dryly. “I
guess Willie must’ve told Annie’s dad, and he must’ve told her. But now I
really
don’t feel like talking about it.”

“Hey, there’s Mrs. McMurray!” Jody exclaimed, eager to get off the subject of Star.

Mrs. McMurray was busy hanging Mr. McMurray’s overalls on the clothesline in the side yard of the big stone farmhouse, but
she stopped and waved as Mary and Jody trotted up.

“Good morning, girls!” she called out in her lilting brogue. “Why, I haven’t seen you riding for ages! And aren’t the ponies
looking fine!”

“Thanks, Mrs. McMurray. Willie says it’s all the good grass they’re getting in the pasture. We really appreciate Mr. McMurray
letting them go out with the cows,” Jody replied, hoping Mrs. McMurray would say it was OK for Star to go out there too. But
Jody knew that decision was really Mr. McMurray’s.

“Well, it’s true. Grass is the best thing for horses or cows, either one,” she nodded. “Now what’s this I hear about the baby,
then?” Mrs. McMurray put her hands on her hips and waited for a reply. Mary looked at Jody and could see her lips beginning
to quiver, so she answered the question for her.

Mrs. McMurray was busy hanging overalls on
the clothesline in the side yard.

“Oh, it’s awful, Mrs. McMurray. The man that owns Star’s father wants to take Star away from us and we don’t know what to
do. But we’re going to figure it out somehow,” she added quickly.

“I know. Willie told Mr. McMurray all about it, and he told me. Now I wish there was something I could do to help, but you
know Mr. McMurray hasn’t been in the best of health . . .”

“Oh, we know, ma’am. Don’t worry, we’ll come up with something. We have a whole month, minus one day,” Mary said, trying to
sound confident for Jody’s sake.

Mrs. McMurray turned to her basket of clothes, so the girls couldn’t see that her lips were quivering as well. Then she straightened
her back and turned to face them.

“Girls, don’t forget that when God closes a door, he opens a window,” she said. “We must always remember that.”

Mary and Jody nodded in unison. As they turned to ride on, Mrs. McMurray suddenly snapped her fingers.

“Now wait, I have an idea. Why don’t you finish your ride and then come up to the house. I have a little job you can help
with, and I can give you a little money for it too until you’re better paid. It might start you on your way.”

“OK! Thanks a lot, Mrs. McMurray. We’ll be up in an hour or so,” Mary assured her.

The kindly woman put her hands on her hips and watched as the girls rode down the driveway and onto the dirt path that led
to the field of pines. She knew the scant amount of money she could pay them would do little to help with their dilemma, but
she thought her little job would get their minds off their worries, and she thought it would be good for them to be near her
if they wanted to talk. She stooped to get the last pair of Mr. McMurray’s overalls from the wicker basket, hung them on the
line, and headed into the house to prepare the midday meal.

13

The Picking House

IT WAS JUST past noon when Mrs. McMurray answered the knock on the double doors of the big stone farmhouse and ushered Mary
and Jody into the bright blue and yellow kitchen.

“I’ll just be a minute finishing up these dishes,” she said, rinsing off the last plate and putting it in the drying rack
on the drainboard. “How was your ride then?”

“Oh, it was so nice,” Jody sighed. “We saw a fox in the pine field, and he just sat and looked at us. He didn’t even run away!”

“And then we practiced cantering in and out in a serpentine around the littlest trees at the far end. Lady and Gypsy are so
good at that! Our legs never even got scratched by the pine needles!” Mary added proudly.

“Well, I’m glad you had a good time. Are you ready for a little work?” Mrs. McMurray asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Sure we are!” Mary announced. “What are we going to do?”

“Well, we’re going out to the picking house to dress some chickens for market. Mr. McMurray got a big order this week, so
we need a few extra hands. Roy and Jimmy are already out there. Now, if you’ll wait just a minute, I’ll get my singeing pan.”

Mary and Jody looked at each other wide-eyed, completely lost by what Mrs. McMurray had just said.

“Why do we have to dress up the chickens?” Jody wondered out loud. “Are they going to sell them with clothes on?”

“Maybe Mr. McMurray sells chickens to the carnival. Have you ever seen those chickens that dance and play tic-tac-toe and
stuff? Maybe he’s dressing them up for that,” Mary guessed.

“But what’s a singeing pan?” Jody asked.

“And I don’t even know where the picking house is,” Mary added, baffled by all the new terms and wondering why, in all their
years at the farm, they had never heard them before.

“Well, come on then, girls. Follow me,” Mrs. McMurray instructed, striding out the door with a metal pan that looked like
it was previously used for canned ham. Mary and Jody followed obediently through the door and around the back of the house
where a small cinder block building sat at the corner of the chicken yard. Outside the building was a huge black pot with
a fire going under it and steam wafting from the top. When Mary and Jody passed by the pot, they saw that the water was close
to boiling inside. Near the pot was a long metal pole hanging lengthwise between the lower branches of two mimosa trees. From
the pole there hung five or six lengths of baler twine with a loop at each end. Mary and Jody, still dutifully following Mrs.
McMurray, almost tripped over each other as they stared at all the strange apparatus. Then they entered the picking house.

There in the little building were Mr. McMurray, Annie’s father Roy, and her brother Jimmy. They all sat silently hunched over
the task at hand, which was definitely not putting clothes on chickens. In fact, the newly deceased chickens were in various
stages of nakedness, in the process of having their feathers plucked out. These were white-feathered birds, unlike the Rhode
Island Red hens in the egg-laying house. Mary and Jody gasped in unison at the sight before them. Now they understood why
the little building was called the picking house.

“But, but, but . . . Mrs. McMurray, I thought you said we were going to dress up the chickens,” Mary sputtered.

“Dress up . . .?” Mrs. McMurray began, and then she stifled a grin. “Oh no, Mary—I said we were going to
dress
the chickens; that means get them ready for market, for people to eat. Now, you like chicken, don’t you?”

“I used to,” Mary said, putting her hand over her mouth. Jody simply stared speechlessly at the plucking process.

“Um, Mrs. McMurray, is there another job you might like us to do?” Mary asked sweetly. “We could go gather the eggs for you
. . .” she suggested, turning in unison with Jody to flee the premises as quickly and quietly as possible.

“
Girls
.”

The word was practically spat from Jimmy’s mouth. “Shoulda known better than to ask
girls
to do a job like this. They’re just chickens themselves,” he continued, shaking his head but never looking up from the bird
he was plucking.

Mary and Jody stopped in their tracks and looked at each other in shock. They had seen Jimmy around the farm, getting the
cows in for milking or helping his father repair farm equipment. They had commented on how he looked so different from Annie
with his dark hair and broad shoulders. But they had never actually heard him speak. And they definitely didn’t take kindly
to the first words they had heard him say.

“Jimmy, hush,” Roy admonished his son. Jimmy just shook his head and continued plucking. But the challenge was too much for
Mary.

“Mrs. McMurray, I think we can help you with this after all,” she offered bravely. “Now, what do we do first?”

“But, Mare . . .” Jody squeaked, pinching the sleeve of Mary’s shirt.

“Jody, Jody, it’s fine. The chickens are . . . are . . . no longer with us, so they don’t feel a thing. And besides, the feathers
have to be taken out, or there’s no way you could eat the chicken. Right, Mrs. McMurray?”

There in the little building sat Mr. McMurray,
Annie’s father, and her brother.

“Yes, that’s right, Mary,” Mrs. McMurray agreed solemnly. “And after the feathers are picked out, the innards have to be taken
out as well. Now we don’t need help so much with that part as Jimmy and Roy are both here, but we could use a couple of extra
hands picking.”

Jody’s mouth flew open at the thought of “taking out the innards,” but Mary was not to be outdone by Jimmy. “Well, now, Mrs.
McMurray, if you do need help with those innards, we’ll be here,” Mary said confidently.

“What do you mean, we?” Jody whispered in Mary’s ear. “I’m not doing that!”

Mrs. McMurray turned away so the girls couldn’t see her stifling a grin. “Now just wait here by the table, girls. It looks
like Mr. McMurray is getting a chicken ready for you,” she said, bustling out the door toward the steaming black kettle. Jody
grimaced when, through the open door she saw Mr. McMurray holding a chicken by the feet and dipping it several times into
the pot.

“Oh, Mary, do they drown the poor chickens?” Jody sputtered. “Is that how they do it?”

Jimmy glared at Jody in disbelief. “Don’t you know anything?” he growled. “The chickens are already dead when he dips them.
The hot water loosens up the feathers, so you can pull them out easier.”

“Girls, the chickens are put to sleep very fast so they don’t feel anything,” Jimmy’s father began kindly. “Now, what Mr.
McMurray does is . . .”

“Ohhh, that’s OK, Mr. Mooney. You don’t have to explain it or anything,” Jody interrupted while Jimmy rolled his eyes.

Mary and Jody were ready at the long oilcloth-covered table when Mrs. McMurray returned with the steaming chicken. When she
plopped it down in front of the girls, Jody stepped back in dismay while Mary leaned forward curiously to get a closer look.
Mrs. McMurray put both hands on the sodden breast feathers and began vigorously pulling them backward until they came out
in handfuls.

“Now, you see, the feathers come out easily when they are dipped in the hot water first,” she explained. “After we get the
main feathers out of the breast and wings, then you can sit down and pluck the smaller ones. And then we put a little fire
in the singeing pan to singe off the tiny hair-like ones,” she instructed briskly. “Now, who’s ready to give it a try?”

“I am!” Mary raised her hand courageously.

Jody glanced sideways at the lifeless bird and took another step back. “I’ll watch you first,” she said.

Secretly hoping Jimmy was watching, Mary put her hands on the breast of the chicken just as Mrs. McMurray had and swept the
rest of the small breast feathers from the yellow breast. Then she took the longer wing feathers in hand and pulled them out
one by one.

“See, Jode, nothin’ to it,” she crowed.

“What have we got here then?” Mr. McMurray boomed, coming through the door with another chicken ready to be plucked. “Brand
new chicken pickers?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. McMurray. It’s not so bad when you get used to it,” Mary said, turning the chicken over so she could get to
the feathers on the back.

“Hmmph,” Jimmy snorted from his seat. He handed the chicken he had been plucking to Mrs. McMurray for singeing and stood to
work on the one Mr. McMurray had just set on the table.

“Hey, it’s Jody’s turn with that one!” Mary admonished, looking up at Jimmy, who was really quite a bit taller up close than
she had expected.

“She’s not gonna do it,” he smirked.

“Oh yes, I am,” Jody declared, pushing her way between Jimmy and Mary and taking command of the breast feathers. “I can do
it just as well as you can.”

Mr. and Mrs. McMurray exchanged amused glances with Mr. Mooney, and then it was all silence in the picking house, as they
each attended to the task at hand. Jimmy stood by and watched Jody with grudging respect as she enthusiastically took to the
job of plucking the breast feathers, even offering his assistance when it came time to pull out the larger wing feathers.

“Move your hand down closer to the chicken’s body and pull them out from the base instead of grabbing them by the end,” he
suggested. “They come out easier that way, and you don’t break them off.”

“OK, thanks,” Jody murmured, forgetting her resentment and concentrating on doing the job just so. Mary was already seated
with a burlap feed bag on her lap, working on the smaller feathers of her chicken, and Mrs. McMurray was carefully passing
a plucked bird over the small flame in the singeing pan, burning off the last of the tiny hairlike feathers.

It was almost time for milking when the picking crew finished the last of the poultry that had been ordered for market. Jimmy
and Roy left to help Willie get the cows into the barnyard, and Mary and Jody stayed behind to assist Mrs. McMurray with the
sweeping of all the wayward feathers from the picking house floor.

“Now, we’ll finish up after milking, but as I said, you girls don’t have to help with that part,” Mrs. McMurray said generously,
not mentioning again exactly what that part would be. Then another thought occurred to her.

“You know, we do have a few extra chickens that haven’t been ordered for market,” she said. “Should I call your parents and
tell them? Wouldn’t you like some fresh chicken for dinner tonight?”

“No!” Mary and Jody shouted in unison.

“I mean, thanks, Mrs. McMurray, but I don’t think I could eat chicken right now,” Mary said sheepishly.

“Me either,” Jodi agreed. “It’s different when it comes from the grocery store and you don’t know it personally.”

This time Mrs. McMurray didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “OK, girls, I understand,” she laughed. “Now come on up to
the house and I’ll pay you for your labor. I know it won’t help your predicament much, but it’s a little something, anyway.”

The girls sighed as they followed Mrs. McMurray to the big stone house. They had been so involved in learning the new skill
of chicken plucking that they had almost forgotten about the crisis with Star. And that was just what Mrs. McMurray had intended.