Till the Cows Come Home (15 page)

“Wow. Sounds bad,” Missy said when I’d finished.

I turned to her, but Nick put a hand on my arm before I could reply.

“About time to get going?” he asked.

I looked down at my ice cream, now a melted mess, and fished out the cherry. I decided against eating it and pushed myself off the ground.

“Sure. Let’s go.”

“Stella…” Abe said.

I turned to him and for a moment the rest of the crowd—Nick and Missy included—disappeared. Until Missy opened her damned mouth again.

“If there’s anything we can do,” she said, “please let us know.”

I closed my eyes, gave a quiet laugh, and walked away. Nick followed silently to the truck. I slammed my door behind me and gripped the steering wheel, resting my head on my hands.

“Stella…” Nick said.

I turned my face toward him. “When we get home, Nick, okay? Let’s just get home.”

We were about a quarter mile from the farm when I slammed on the brakes. The tires squealed and the truck fishtailed, skidding toward the drop-off at the side of the road. Nick grabbed the dashboard and planted his feet. I held onto the steering wheel with a death-grip, muttered some kind of prayer, and tried to keep from sliding into the ditch. The truck shuddered and screeched until coming to a complete stop about six inches from one of my cows, who stood calmly in the middle of the road, chewing her cud and looking at the grill of the truck like it was a fly about to sit on her back.

Chapter Eighteen

I jumped out of the truck and stood face to face with the cow. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She regarded me with her gentle brown eyes as if I’d just told her she was my blue ribbon winner.

For a moment I allowed myself to wonder how she got onto the road, but the possibilities were many, and in every scenario the quicker we got her home, the better. I looked back and forth from the cow to my truck, knowing I was going to have to entrust Nick with one of them. I figured it wouldn’t be fair to saddle him with the cow, so I told him to take the truck the rest of the way home.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I
have
driven a truck before.”

He slid into the driver’s seat and backed up the truck, keeping the lights on me and the cow. He flipped on the hazards and stayed there to warn any other traffic, showing more sense than I had at the moment. I waved him my thanks and began to try to get the piece of meat in front of me to move toward the farm.

After about five minutes of pulling the cow’s chain, smacking her hind legs, and pleading uselessly, the cow decided on her own it was time to move. We paraded home slowly, me at the front, the cow taking up second, and Nick with my truck, backing us up.

We got into the farmyard to find barn lights blazing and Howie’s truck parked in front of the paddock gate. I kept a firm hold on the cow and gestured to Nick to get out of the truck. He jumped out and trotted toward me.

“Find Howie, will ya?” I said. “See what’s going on.”

He was gone about five minutes before he came back. “Howie’s in the feed barn. It’s a mess in there—sacks everywhere, stuff all over the ground. He’s got a cow cornered and is trying to pull her away from a pile of grain she’s inhaling.”

“Oh, that’s just grand. What about his truck?”

“He said to move it to get this cow in, then put it back. Somehow the hook got broken off and the door swung open and he hasn’t had a chance to fix it yet.”

Somehow.

Furious, trying to keep a rein on my growing fear, I held onto the stupid cow while Nick moved Howie’s truck out of the way. I somehow persuaded her she wanted to be back in the barnyard, and she slowly and deliberately walked in. I went back out into the driveway and Nick replaced the truck.

I jogged toward the feed barn and could hear Nick following me. I guessed that was good. He could help with the stubborn cow Howie was wrestling.

“Nice night, eh, Howie?” I said, trying to make light. “Glad you stayed home from the dinner?”

Howie gave the cow a good smack on the back, at which she merely tossed her head toward her shoulder.

“I’ve been working on her for a good fifteen minutes,” Howie said. He looked at me tiredly. “Sure could use Queenie.”

I took a deep breath and marched up to the cow. “Look, you. If you don’t move your ass, you’re going to the dog food factory in the morning.”

She didn’t seem to believe me, and stared at something over my left shoulder.

“I could get my twenty-two and scare her into moving,” I said.

Howie grunted and went to the back of the cow, where he twisted her tail. That got her attention. I grabbed her chain while Howie twisted and pushed, and Nick ran out to move Howie’s truck again. When we finally got her in, Nick backed the truck up, and Howie excused himself to start cleaning up the destroyed grain.

I stood fuming, hands on my hips, and Nick came and stood in front of me.

“I guess this means our date is over?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess it does. Thanks for going along. And for helping with the cows.” I started back toward the feed barn.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Something in Nick’s voice made me turn around and walk back to him. “I’m sorry. I really do appreciate your going with me tonight. I wish it hadn’t turned out this way.”

He shrugged, seeming embarrassed. “Hey, it’s okay. I…You think we can talk tomorrow?” His face was tight, and he jammed his hands into his pockets.

“Sure,” I said. “We can talk tomorrow.”

He walked to his truck, looked at me one more time, and drove off. For once I was too preoccupied to enjoy watching his every move. I’d take time later to regret the way the evening ended.

I found Howie cleaning up what to me looked like cash thrown on the ground. In reality, it was several bags of feed—the kind I had to actually buy and not get from Jude—ripped open, tromped on, pooped on, peed on, and eaten.

I sank onto a couple of bags that had somehow survived the onslaught. “Can these jerks make anything else go wrong? Cows dying, shit everywhere, animals escaping…Good Lord.”

Howie stopped what he was doing and came over to sit by me. He put his hands on his knees and sighed. His face looked tired and very old.

“You okay?” I asked. “You look terrible.”

I thought of Pam’s dad and wondered if he looked just as aged.

Howie slumped wearily. “It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it? Even without criminals messing with us.”

“Someone broke the lock on the gate,” I said. “I checked it just the other day and it was fine.”

Howie shook his head. “I just can’t imagine
why
.”

I wondered where Howie had been that he hadn’t seen whoever busted the lock, but didn’t want to make him feel guiltier than he already did. We sat in silence for a few minutes, surveying the mess and grieving the money we’d just lost.

“I guess I’ll call Detective Willard in the morning,” I said. “I’m sure he’s not in anymore tonight, and it’s not like the guy’s hanging around to get caught.”

Howie nodded.

“All the cows in?” I asked. “I pulled one off the road where by some miracle she hadn’t gotten hit.”

“That should be the last one. Only six actually got out, if you can believe that, and I was just missing the one. Couldn’t find her anywhere. She mustn’t’ve been on the road very long.”

“Loomed right up in our headlights, that’s for sure. Scared the shit outta me.”

Howie pushed himself up to do some more cleaning, but I couldn’t make myself move.

“What are we doing, Howie? It seems every day something happens to set us back even more. If the market doesn’t kill us, it’s going to be all the little crap—or these stupid pranks—that does. Is it worth working twelve, fifteen hours a day to worry we can’t pay the bills next month? Or the next? And maybe without Queenie?”

Howie leaned on his broom. “Bad news at the dinner again?”

“The Bergeys and two others, Howie.” I looked around at the hay and the grain and the old wooden walls. “How long can we keep it going? How long till I have to have snot-nosed real estate guys come onto my property because I asked them here?”

“It may not come to that, Princess.”

“You’re right. It may not. But it sure as hell is looking more likely every day.”

“We just have to keep going. We work hard, say our prayers, keep our fingers crossed. Nail these guys that are screwing with us. And don’t you worry, Princess. I’ll stay and fight with you till the cows come home.”

I watched with affection as the old man went back to sweeping.

“Hey, Stella.” Pam stood silhouetted in the doorway. “Saw your lights as I was driving past. Anything I can help with?”

I waved her in. “Howie, remember Pam? She went to school with me back in the day. Her dad’s a crop farmer over on Harleysville Pike.”

Howie put out his hand. “Sure. Chuckie Moyer’s little gal, right?”

She grinned wearily and returned the handshake. “That’s me.”

“Park it on a bale,” I said. “You look beat.”

She plopped beside me. “Cows get in here or something?”

“Something.” I stood and went to find another broom. “You stay sitting. With three of us we’d just get in each other’s way.”

She pulled her feet up onto the bale and clasped her hands around her knees. “Could you believe that news tonight? I knew about the Bergeys, of course, but two others?”

I tipped my head toward Howie. “I was just telling him. Damn developers.”

She sighed and blew her hair off her forehead. “The problem is it’s not all their fault.”

I grunted. “You’re right. But they’re hovering like vultures. What we need is for one farmer to win the SuperBall when it’s at two hundred mil and we’d all be saved.”

Pam stared at me.

I shrugged. “I know it’s a long shot.”

“But worth hoping for.” She closed her eyes and rested her head against the barn wall. “Do you remember as a kid watching your mom try to save money? God. My parents scrimped like crazy, only to end up further behind than they were to begin with. Every once in a while we’d have a bumper crop and I’d get an extra school outfit or two, but soon we’d be back to penny pinching.”

She twirled a strand of hair in her fingers. “When I was a freshman in high school the first developer came. Norm Freeman down the road had just sold his farm for one point two million dollars. He’d never have to worry about anything again. Anything financial, anyway. My dad says Norm sort of lost his reason for living when they built the houses up around him.

“My folks swore it would never happen to us, and although Daddy was real polite to the developers, he made it clear they didn’t need to bother coming back. But the next fall, after a drought summer, there they were. My dad’s answer was still the same. He was keeping the farm for his little girl, and no one was going to take it away from him.”

She choked up a bit, and Howie and I pretended not to notice. She eventually got herself under control.

“Each year Daddy said no, and each year Mom leaned a little more toward saying yes. When I finally got my scholarship to Penn, it was a relief to get away from the tension. I didn’t know if I even
wanted
to take over the farm, and that was my dad’s main plan.”

I propped my broom in the corner and sat down next to Pam. “So what do you think now? You going to take it over?”

She shook her head thoughtfully. “I still haven’t decided. I got my Ph.D. in Biology so I could help out farmers. I couldn’t really do that if I was plowing and harvesting twenty-four/seven.” A tear rolled down her cheek. “But then I get home and I see how the farm is a huge chunk of my dad’s heart. He’s this close to chapter eleven, but the only way he’ll let go is if he’s dead. I’ve got to at least keep him hoping while he’s alive.

“Every day I look at him, and I just don’t know how to tell him I’m not sure it’s what I want for
me
. I only know I’ve got to help him keep the farm for
him
.”

I patted her shoulder and stood up. I’d been saying basically the same things to Howie minutes before, and his words of wisdom came back out of my mouth. “That’s the only thing we can do, Pam. We go day to day, hoping like hell each day isn’t the last. We do whatever we can to survive.”

Chapter Nineteen

Howie and I were watching Pam’s car head down the road when Carla’s truck pulled into the driveway.

Howie grunted. “Good thing we didn’t go to bed at our usual time, the visitors we’re getting. At this rate, we won’t even have to take shifts guarding the farm.”

Carla was smiling when she parked and jumped down from the cab of the F250. “I can’t believe you’re still up. But I’m glad.”

“What’s going on?” I said.

She smiled even broader. “Got something I think you’ll want to see.”

She opened the door on her extended cab and gestured inside. I stepped around her to peer in. Queenie was lying on the seat.

My breath caught in my throat, and my eyes stung. “Oh,
Howie
.”

He came up beside me and put a hand to his heart, then to the bridge of his nose. His eyes squeezed shut, and I clasped his arm, not quite believing what we were seeing.

Queenie was home.

I sank my hands into the fur around her neck and dropped my forehead against hers, inhaling her scent and feeling the oil of her hair. She panted lightly and licked my chin.

“You know she’s glad to see you,” Carla said. “She’s just too tired to jump up and tell you.”

I turned my face toward Carla, leaving my cheek against Queenie’s head. “How did you find her?”

She grinned. “Didn’t. Another one of my clients did, and called this evening, wondering what he should do. Seems Queenie wandered a little far off—Sellersville, actually, up towards the Ridge—and got a little too interested in a gopher hole. If I’m right, she’s had her head stuck in the ground for a couple days. We’re lucky she’s a farm dog and the hole was in the shade, or she probably wouldn’t have made it.”

I studied my collie, looking for signs of injury. She looked okay except for being a little skinnier than when I’d last seen her. And there wasn’t a speck of dirt on her.

“She’s clean because I wanted to check her out before bringing her home,” Carla said, reading my mind. “Figured I’d give her a bath in the bargain. She looks fine. A mite dehydrated, and a few pounds lighter, but hopefully wiser.” She scratched Queenie’s head. “You were a big dummy, weren’t you, girl?”

Queenie thumped her tail on the seat.

“Thank you,” I said.

Howie shook Carla’s hand mutely.

She waved her arms and laughed. “Aw, shucks. Just doing my job. And I love this part of it.”

I gently grabbed Queenie’s ears and looked her in the eye. “We owe Doctor Beaumont big for this one, babe.”

She panted, and I’d swear she smiled, her tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

“So I can pick her up?” I asked.

Carla shrugged. “Like I said, she’s fine. She can go back to her normal routine once she’s rested up and hydrated.”

I bent over Queenie and hefted her out of the truck. I looked at Howie. “She’ll be sleeping with me tonight.”

He nodded. “I’d hope so.”

Carla looked back and forth at us. “What? Has something else happened?”

I told her about our most recent vandalism, and she bristled. “What is
wrong
with these people? Have they no brains at all? They could’ve killed somebody! Or lost you some good milkers!”

“Preaching to the off-key choir, Carla. I’ll call the detective in the morning.”

“
Idiots
,” she muttered.

Howie patted her shoulder. “At least it turned out for the best.”

“This time.” She slammed the back door on her truck. “You’ll let me know if I can do anything?”

I lowered my head toward Queenie. “You’ve done the best thing right here. Couldn’t ask for more than this.”

A smile twitched on her lips, and she reached out for a final pat. Queenie rubbed her nose against Carla’s hand. “Like I said. Best part of my job.” She stepped up into the truck and spoke to us through her window. “Now I know I’m an animal doctor, but people are animals, too, and all I’m going to say is this. You’se go to bed right now. All three of you look like you need to sleep for an entire week.”