Moo (10 page)

Zora had yanked the halter from my

carelessly loose grip

and took off

kicking and bucking

            
Moooooo

            
Moooooo

I chased her as she ran past the stalls

knocking over buckets

and brooms and rakes

            
Moooooo

            
Moooooo

People dodged out of her way

calling

            
Cow on the loose!

            
Cow on the loose!

Beat and Zep and Mr. Birch

joined in the chase

            
Cow on the loose!

            
Cow on the loose!

            
Moooooo

            
Moooooo

Who knew a cow could run so fast?

I turned back once to look at the ring:

the novices and the judge

and my parents and Luke

all stood there

staring

at

the

            
cow on the loose

and the chaos erupting

around and behind

that

wild-eyed

heifer:

Zora.

Zora raced down the chicken aisle

and careened past the rabbit cages,

nearly landing amid a pen of squealing piglets.

People leaped out of the way.

Zep and I finally caught her

and led her back to the stalls

where she snatched a clomp of hay

and chewed defiantly

and slurped water from the hose

as if nothing whatever was wrong.

The novice showmanship competition

was

over.

We had missed it.

Next up was the breed round.

What do you think?
Zep asked me.

Willing to try Zora again for the breed event?

My parents and Luke joined us.

Luke moved up close to Zora

and placed his small hand on her wide neck.

Zora, you be good. You know how.

Mom and Dad looked surprised.

We had no idea you could do all this, Reena.

I had a quick glimpse of me in my room

in our old apartment back in the city

an inside girl

and now here I was

an outside girl

a

cow

girl.

When the Belted Galloway breed was called

I led Zora back to the ring

and we entered

like civilized partners

and circled the ring

without too much contrariness

and she let me calm her with the show stick

and she did not drop any plops of anything

and she did not kick anyone or anything.

As the judge moved along the row asking
questions

I kept stroking Zora with the show stick

praying that she would stay calm

praying that she would not bolt.

When the judge reached us, he said,

You're new at this?

Yes.

Are you nervous?

Yes.

Well, you don't show it. That's good.

And you did a fine job regaining control

of your animal earlier. I saw that.

What's her name?

Zora.

And when was she born?

Fall of last year.

And how much does she weigh?

Eight hundred pounds.

And who were her parents?

Her . . . parents?

Yes, what's her lineage?

Her . . . lineage? I'm sorry, sir,

but I do not know.

Well, you surprise me.

This looks like a fine young heifer

and I would think you'd want to know

what her lineage is.

My guess is that there's a champion

in there somewhere.

Oh! Yes, wait. I think that's right.

I think she comes from

a long line of champions.

You
think
?

I'm new at this. I'm sorry.

Don't worry, next time you'll know,

won't you?

Yes, sir.

Zora placed fourth out of nine

and received praise from the judge

for her fine proportions

and good lines.

And you
, he said to me,

have good posture and a nice smile

and a good relationship with Zora.

But—she bolted earlier—

The judge patted Zora's back.

Oh, just a little stubbornness.

The important thing is

you didn't lose your cool

and you tried again.

As we left the ring, I stroked Zora's head

and whispered to her

Do you hear that?

We have a good relationship.

I was eager to see Zep and my family,

and as I searched the crowd for them,

I spotted a woman with a long, white braid

but

it was not

Mrs. Falala.

I felt sorry that she wasn't there

but then I told myself

maybe she would have been

disappointed.

In Zora.

In me.

But there were others who were

not disappointed.

My parents' smiles were so wide

and my mom kept saying

How do you do that?

How did you learn all that?

Luke ran up to me and hugged my waist

and would not let go.

It was so good, Reena. Wasn't it good?

Was it fun? Did you like it?

Zep followed me

as I returned to the stall with Zora.

He leaned in close to her

and stroked her head

and looked her in the eyes

and said

You were riot good, Zora.

Riot good.

He turned to me and leaned in close

and said

You, too, Reena.

You were riot good.

After all the Beltie events, Zora was loaded in the van with Yolanda and with the other animals from Birchmere Farm. Zep promised to resettle Zora and Yolanda back at Mrs. Falala's, so Mom, Dad, Luke, and I stayed on at the fair.

Luke wanted me to go on all the rides with him, and even though I felt too old for that, I went because Luke begged and because I secretly wanted to go on them anyway.

Roller coaster! Tilt-A-Whirl! Even my parents joined us on the Ferris wheel. We were all laughing and loving the fair and it felt only right to also eat cotton candy and hot dogs. That's what you do at the fair, right?

It was nearly seven o'clock when we left.

On the ride home, I thought about Zora and how well she'd done—once she got over her first bolting escapade—and I wanted to tell Mrs. Falala that. I asked my parents if we could stop there on the way, but just before we pulled in her drive, I changed my mind.

What if she ruins it?
I said.

Mom turned to look at me.
What do you mean,
Reena?

Well, it's been such a good day. What if Mrs. Falala
isn't happy about something?

Like what?

I don't know—like maybe that Zora bolted the
first time and then only came in fourth in the breed
event.

Luke had been quiet on the ride home, drawing in his notebook, but now he said,
It was the best
day ever, and you and Zora did the best job ever,
and I will tell Mrs. Falala that if she says anything
mean.

I love that Lukey boy.

Dad said,
Well, let's take a vote. How many think
we should go knock on her door and maybe wake
her up and get her mad?

Silence.

Okay, then, how many think we should go on home
and wait to see Mrs. Falala tomorrow?

The vote was unanimous. We went on home.

Early the next morning, my parents received a phone call from someone named Mr. Colley. He asked if they could meet him at Mrs. Falala's house.

My dad was hardly awake when he answered the phone, so he agreed without even asking why.

Luke said,
Uh-oh, you're in trouble now, Reena.

Me, why me, Luke? Maybe you're the one in trouble?

I don't think so. You're the one who took her cow
to the fair.

Dad wanted to know if we'd been disrespectful again. Mom asked if we knew who Mr. Colley was.

And oh
, Dad said,
Mr. Colley said that you and
Luke should stay home. ‘It would be best,' Mr.
Colley said.

While Mom and Dad were gone, Luke and I tried to imagine all the possible reasons that they had been summoned to Mrs. Falala's and who Mr. Colley was.

He could be anybody!

A policeman, a fireman, a plumber

a doctor, repairman, or vet

a lawyer, a salesman,

a relative, a friend.

Maybe Mrs. Falala's house burned down.

Maybe something happened to Zora.

No, no, no, don't say that.

Don't even think those bad things.

When will Mom and Dad be home?

What's taking them so long?

What if we're in trouble?

Did we disrespect?

Is Mrs. Falala mad at us?

Does she want us never to come back?

Maybe she had a heart attack.

Maybe she fell down and broke her bones.

Maybe she has pneumonia.

Maybe she's in the hospital.

No, no, no, don't say those bad things.

Don't think them.

When will Mom and Dad be home?

What is taking

so

so

longggggggggggggggg?

Time time time

someTIMES

an hour is a blink

a
flash

a wink, a flicker

a dashing gallop

 

and sometimes

an hour
s t r e t c h e s

thuddingly

            
second

                    
by

                            
second

                                  
by

                                      
slow

                                              
second

an endlessssssssssssss

eternity

of

            
d

            
r

            
i

            
p

            
s . . .

As we waited for Mom and Dad

to return from Mrs. Falala's

time was not galloping.

It was d

            
r

            
i

            
p

            
p

            
i

            
n

            
g

so painfully

slowly.

We sat on the porch steps.

We climbed the maple tree.

We tried to fix the broken gate.

            
Hammer hammer

            
oops

            
never mind . . .

We made our beds and cleaned our rooms.

Dripppppppping time . . .

Want to see something?
Luke asked.

From his yellow notebook

he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper.

Know what this is?

It was a pencil drawing.

Some sort of animal?

It's supposed to be a cow
, he said.

But you draw better than that, Luke.

I don't get it.

I didn't draw it.

Mrs. Falala did.

Oh.

It was one of her first tries.

She crumpled it up

but I found it later and kept it.

Luke flipped to the back of his notebook

where there was a pocket flap.

He pulled out another drawing.

Whoa! That's really good, Luke.

I'm so glad you're drawing animals now

instead of zombies and dragons and—

I didn't draw this
, he said.

Mrs. Falala did.

Last week.

Whoa!

It was an elegant drawing

of a Belted Galloway

and not just any Beltie.

It was Zora:

with those inkwell eyes

and that fur-white belt

and that stubborn-sass look

and that flippant tail.

What else does she draw, Luke?

Oh, lots of things now.

She draws Paulie the crazy hog-pig

and China the cat

and Crockett the parrot

and Edna the snake

and you know those seagulls

that are always lining up on the roof?

She draws those, too.

And she draws the barn a lot—

she really likes to draw that barn

and she draws the fenced pasture

and the house

and you know that window way at the top—

like maybe the attic?

She draws that sometimes.

Just the window?

Well, yeah, with different things

coming out of it.

Things coming out of the window?

Like what?

All kinds of things:

flowers and ribbons

and stars and leaves

and musical notes—

—Musical notes?

Yeah, like this:

 

Luke, have you ever heard flute music

coming out of that window?

Sure. Mrs. Falala plays the flute.

What? How do you know
that
?

She told me.

When was that?

One day when we were drawing.

I asked her about those notes

coming out of the window.

She said that sometimes she plays

the flute and when the room fills

up with the music and has

nowhere else to go it floats

                            
out

                                  
the

                                              
window.

 

What about the stars and flowers

and leaves and ribbons?
I asked Luke.

Did she say why she draws those

coming out of the window?

She said that room up there is a

            
remembering room

and when she is up there

            
remembering

all those things fill up the room

and when the room is too full

they fly out the window.

Just like the music?
I asked.

Yes, I guess, just like the music.

So is it always good things

coming out of the window?

Luke put his hands to his cheeks.

One time she drew lightning bolts

and spiders and bats coming out

of the window. Very creepy.

She was in kind of a bad mood that day.

Mrs. Falala. So much

we did not know

about her.