by CeeCee James
“Hi, sweetie!” Mom answered, making me smile.
“Hi, Mom! How is it going? Did I wake you?”
“No. We are—” The phone line crackled, and I cringed. We had a bad connection again. “Making good progress,” she finished.
“I’m so proud of you! Guess what! I just got the job!”
“Oh, congratulations! I knew you would. And where is it again?”
I filled her in with all the details about In For A Penny thrift store. She did the appropriate amount of oohing and ahhing, making me smile.
“So.” Her voice got business-like, indicating she was about to change the subject. “While I have you, what are we doing for Thanksgiving? I’ll be home then. Are you driving back?”
I hadn’t thought of that far ahead, to be honest. “Of course. Or you could come out here. What do you think about that?”
“That could work. You think Tilly would mind?”
I pulled a face as I realized I hadn’t exactly cleared it with Tilly. Ah well. If it wasn’t, then Mom and I would find a restaurant or something. Besides, I was fairly certain Tilly wouldn’t care. “Of course not! And you could finally meet Emma.”
Mom laughed. “The little six-year-old firecracker. Probably just like her mom used to be.”
“That’s right! And she lives up to her name, let me tell you.”
She said she’d give it some thought as I pulled into the driveway. From where I sat, I could see Rosy out in the field. The cow saw me too and raised her head to moo in acknowledgment.
“Well, I’m home now and have to get ready for that firecracker,” I said, reluctantly.
“Okay, sweetie. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I got out and waved at the cow. “Hi, Rosy! Are you going to come into the barn tonight like a good girl?”
Just then, a fierce squawking rocketed from the front of the house. I spun around, my blue hands held out in defense. Flying at me like a torpedo was a white-feathered mass of anger.
It took me a second to realize it was either a goose or a swan. And to say it did not look very happy was the understatement of the year.
The screeching bird raced toward me faster than I could think. What do I do? Where do I go? I darted to the other side of the car. The bird would not let up on the noise. I tried to keep the car between me and the bird. Finally, I had a chance to run to the porch. I scrambled for my keys while the bird dashed up the stairs after me.
“Go away!” I squeaked, snatching a cushion off the rocker to hold out like a shield.
The bird seemed satisfied that it had chased me up the stairs. With another harsh screech, it toddled off, head held high.
Dumbfounded. I watched it go in the direction of the field. I’d never seen it before. It wasn’t Tilly’s. Where the heck had that thing even come from?
Hands shaking, I managed to unlock the door. I’d hardly passed over the threshold when Jasper leaped out of nowhere, driving his paws straight into my mid-section. All the air knocked out of me, and I slithered to the floor, gasping, while the dog licked my face, my ear, and my hair.
Slowly, breath refilled my lungs. Jasper was extremely concerned and pawed me, maybe to get me to roll over or something. I’m not sure but his nails were sharp. I reached out, and he snuffled my hand. Still gasping, I stroked his ears. How could I be mad? He was giving me a whole Miller family welcome home.
Sore and feeling beat to a pulp, I struggled to sit up. I wasn’t quite ready to stand yet, so I scooted over to the wall and leaned against it. Jasper barked and pranced before me, clearly entranced with the new game we were playing.
“Good boy. Go get your bone,” I whispered. He wasn’t distracted.
But I was. Something silver was under the foyer buffet. I reached for it, straining. My fingertips grazed it then pushed it in deeper. Finally, I was able to snag it out.
I sat up and held the item in my hand. It was the hook thing Emma had found. Maybe Jasper had knocked into it in his rush to get to me.
I dragged my purse closer. After scrambling for a moment, I retrieved my phone and texted Tilly. —Hey, everything is okay here. Have time to talk?
She typed back —In just a minute
I slowly rose to my feet and walked into the kitchen. There, the mess from the morning greeted me, crumbs and all. Exhaustion lay across my shoulders, and I heaved a big breath. Then, I got to work, first sweeping off the counter, putting the toaster away, throwing the blue-dyed towels into the washing machine and then locating the laundry soap. I was filling the dispenser when the phone rang.
“Chelz, is everything okay?” Tilly blurted out.
Text reassurance was nothing for a mom, I found. I wasn’t eager to tell her what her daughter’s hair looked like.
“Everything is going great. Emma is at school. Animals are all doing well. And Jasper really is a loving dog.”
Her soft laughter carried through the speaker. “He sure is. I’m so glad it all went well. I didn’t realize how sad I would be to not be there for Emma’s first day of school.”
I winced, as I was reminded how hard this must be for Tilly to be so far away. “She was excited.” I glanced at the hook thing on the table. “She found something interesting yesterday.”
“Oh, dear. That doesn’t sound good. What is it?”
“I’m not sure. Can I send you a picture?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
I lined up in the phone’s frame, snapped, and then hit send.
Her response was immediate. “I’m not sure. It could be the handle to the latch at the back gate. Sometimes they come that way when they drop off the hay.
Well, that’s weird. That meant that it was possible that Sam, the Farm and Feed guy, might have shown up after all. Did he see all the crazy stuff and just take off? But why wouldn’t he have left the hay?
Another thought hit me, this one more sinister. Did the murderer kidnap Sam?
“Shoot, I have to go. Anything more about Clint McDaniel?” I could hear voices in the background calling to Tilly.
“The police are doing drive-bys but they think it was specific to Clint. Otherwise, I haven’t heard anything new.”
“Okay. Make sure you lock up at night. Jasper will let you know if anyone comes to the door. Give Emma a kiss for me. I’ll call her later.”
“I’ll let her know. And don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
“I know you do. Seriously, things are going so well here. I could never have done it without you. Honestly, I can never repay you.”
“Repay me by getting nice and rich and famous.”
She laughed, and we hung up. I turned to stare at the dog. “Now what?”
He tipped his head, ear perked.
“I guess you need to go outside and go potty—hmm?”
That must have been a yes, because, toe nails scrabbling, he skidded toward the front door. I ran for his leash so I could attach him to the outside lead.
It was then I spotted his food bowl which startled me because it was empty. Was that normal? Tilly had said he was to get just two scoops, but I didn’t think that was enough. That must have been why the poor thing was so excited to see me. He was hungry. Maybe another half a scoop wouldn’t hurt.
Jasper ran back in when he heard the kibble hit his bowl. I was horrified by the way he wolfed it up, like his mouth had turned into a vacuum cleaner. That couldn’t be good for him.
“You need to chew that stuff or you’re going to end up with a belly ache,” I said as I snapped the leash into place.
He belched a big doggy burp into my face.
“Pee-ew!” I announced, and he did his best grin with his eyes squished and tongue lolling out. “Come on. Let’s go.”
I led him outside to the lead when he lunged forward barking. He nearly tore the leash out of my hands.
“What is it, buddy?” I asked, looking in the direction of his frantic barking.
It was then that I saw Rosy happily trotting down the driveway, leaving little clo
ts of dust in the air.
My mouth dropped open. As if all the Nos in the world wrestled out of me, I punched out, “No! Rosy! Come back!”
Jasper took that as permission to lunge even harder, this time dragging me. I furiously looked for the lead’s latch and managed to attach it, and then ran desperately after the cow.
Chapter 11
Panic made my feet move faster than they ever had before. How was I going to get that cow? The very cow that never listened to me to begin with?
“Rosy! Come here, girl!” I screeched and galloped after her.
I swear that tricky Holstein sped up. Her hooves clacked against the hard dirt road and her tail twitched.
“Rosy!” I yelled. Pain bloomed in my side. I clutched my stomach as I was forced to walk. I tried to keep my eye on her. Luckily, the road was as straight as a pin.
A horrible vision filled my head of her heading determinedly all the way down the road which emptied straight into main street. I could just picture cars veering and smashing into one another, and I nearly fainted with the instant panic. I started to jog again. I like cows. I like cows. I like cows.
“Rosy, come here, sweet girl!” I screamed again. My inner voice helpfully reminded me that this was not a dog I was chasing here.
Maybe she likes being called sweet girl, I argued back. Exhaustion can do that to a person. Make them argue with themselves.
The cow slowed for a moment, and one ear twitched back in my direction. Hope exploded in my chest. I put extra fire into my steps, my feet eating up the distance between us.
Unfortunately, I was still about thirty feet away when she started trotting again.
Hope drained out of me. I stopped and watched her go, leaning my hands on my knees and gasping for air. My lungs were on fire. Tears burned my eyes.
You can’t give up. Stick with her. You’ll figure it out as you go.
I straightened my back as my muscles blazed with protestation. Rosy was under my watch. I wasn’t going to let her go. Slowly, I began walking again.
My mouth was as dry as carpet from all my panting, and sweat ran down my back. My hair felt like a dusty mop. I glanced at my watch, mentally kicking myself for forgetting my phone. Emma would be home in two hours.
I looked back at the road, and a gasp ripped out of me.
The cow had vanished.
As in gone, gone. No puff of dust from clattering hooves, no black-and-white Oreo body joggling ahead. Stiffly, I trotted down the road to where I last saw her.
There was a driveway that had been hidden by the tall wild grass. I glanced down it to see Rosy already at the other end and about to disappear around the side of a house.
“Rosy!” I yelled. I needed to go after her but I was a little worried. Out here, people had dogs to protect their property. And guns. But Tilly had mentioned the neighbors were nice. I only hoped that was true.
No time to worry about it now. I had to get that cow. I walked down the driveway. By the time I reached the house—a lovely two-story white building with blue shutters just the shade of my fingers— the cow was out of sight again.
I slowed down and tried to decide if I should first knock on the door, or just run around the house and nab that cow—although with my luck risking running into a nudist autumn sunbather—when I heard singing, loud and warbling, coming from the left of the building. I walked over there and came upon an old greenhouse.
I tried to catch my breath and probably sounded like my lungs were bellows in an ancient iron factory. “H-hello!” I infused the best friendly tone as I could as I tried not to pass out.
“Hey, there,” called a woman from inside. When she didn’t come out, I stuck my head through the doorway. The woman was crouched over a planter with her hands deep in black dirt. Tiny plants in little egg cartons sat at her feet. There were bigger plants on the side wall, with the biggest ones in the very back.
“I’m not interested in any magazine subscriptions,” she said, still not standing.
“What?”
“And I already support the schools.”
“No, I—”
This time she did look up. Her cheeks were ruddy, and her gray frowsy hair was pulled back in a patterned yellow scarf. “I’m trying to tell you that I don’t buy from solicitors. Sorry.”
With her eyebrows lowered into a decidedly unfriendly expression, I wasn’t sure how to tell her my cow was possibly knee-deep in her tulips, happily munching every flower head off.
I tried again. “Sorry to barge in like this. I’m the neighbor. Actually, I’m more house sitting. And the cow just escaped and has disappeared behind your house, and—”
“Oh, my stars, my prized Dwarf Crested Iris!” She sprung up with more energy than I thought one could at her age. I stepped back to avoid her dirty gloved hands as she flew past me. “Well, come on. We can’t let her get them! She’ll mow through them like she’s a John Deere tractor.”
She skirted through the yard and around the corner of the house. I jogged after her. What was with all this speed everyone had? By the time I reached her, she had the cow by the ear and was steering the animal back toward me.
The woman shook her head as I watched in astonishment. “Young lady, you need to shut that pie hole right quick. We have hornets around here. They’re liable to make a nest. My goodness, you are new around here, aren’t you? No, I’m not hurting her. I’m letting her know who’s boss. By the way, my name’s Sharon. Sharon Rabb.” Her green rubber boots stepped firmly through the lawn.
The cow seemed to know who was boss, that’s for sure. She followed obediently alongside the lady with nary a wayward hoof in sight.
When Sharon reached me, she motioned as if offering me the ear. I gingerly grabbed it between two fingers, wanting to whisper an apology to Rosy.
Her frown immediately came back. “No. Not so prissy-like. Oh, here, give it to me. I suppose I should see you home.”
We walked down the driveway, with me following like a little duckling. At the road I hurried to catch up to walk by her side.
“So what happened at your place yesterday morning, anyway?” Sharon asked.
I swallowed, not at all sure of how many details the police had released. Finally, I decided to spill my guts. After all, she was the neighbor.
“We found a man in the barn yesterday morning. Unfortunately, he was dead.” I glanced anxiously at her. I didn’t want to be the one to give her the bad news.
“Oh, sure. Clint McDaniel. He died of an overdose, right?”
I narrowed my eyes. So she did know what had happened. She was just fishing for any details I might have to give. Well, maybe she had some information herself. I liked to fish as well. “Apparently, the toxic load was so much the medical examiner has ruled it a murder.”
“My goodness, a murder in these parts.” She let out a low whistle. “Clint McDaniel. I always knew he’d be up to no good. I tell you what. I’m not surprised at all.”
We’d finally reached the driveway to Tilly’s farm. It was about two seconds later when I started to scream.
Chapter 12
At least, I tried to scream. Instead, what came out was an unintelligible croak that probably had the nearby frogs feeling kinship.
“What the tarnation is wrong with you?” Sharon said with mild disapproval.
The words still wouldn’t come, lodged behind a muzzle of horror. I pointed to my car.
On the hood, like the world’s sprightliest mountain climber, was the billy goat. He bleated as though to celebrate his success and then leaned down to take a bite from my windshield wiper.
“Your goat’s escaped as well?” All given in a monotone, I had no idea what Sharon was thinking.
I nodded mutely, about one second away from throwing in the towel.
“Well, don’t you worry none. We’ll fix their curve and get that fence secure in no time flat. Let’s just get this runner here to her stable.”
She walked to the barn while I tried to shoo the goat
off the hood. After a few lazy blinks, he clattered down, his hooves leaving neat little dents on the hood.
In the meantime, Sharon reappeared, shaking a can of feed. The goat scampered in her direction at the sound of the rattle. We found the other goat and penned her as well.
Then Sharon and I walked over to the fence.
“Wow, that’s a doozy. That cow must have been in a hurry to get out.”
“I don’t think Rosy has ever done something like this before.”
“Cows, you never do know with them.”
It was then I saw tire tracks. Odd ones, closer together than the width of a car tire, but meatier. The dirt was churned up where they had dug in.
“What’s that do you think?” I pointed.
Sharon crouched down. “Looks to me to be a four-wheeler.”
We both turned to stare in the direction the tracks came from. Now that I was standing in the line of sight, I could see a slight trail in the grass.
“Came from across your pasture,” Sharon continued.
“I don’t see how?”
“My guess is that your fence is down someplace else.”
“Tilly told me we have a gate back there that leads to the barn.”
“Well then it’s open. Have you had a walk around the fence?”
I shook my head. No, despite how ordinary and boring the day had been so far, it hadn’t crossed my mind to walk the many acres of the field. Sarcastic, even to myself. I took a deep breath, realizing that’s just what I was about to do.
I glanced at my watch. “Emma’s going to be home in forty-five minutes.”
“That’s enough time. Just put a little pepper in your step, and we’ve got this.” She stalked off in her rubber boots at a furious speed. I shook my head. Country living got you in shape, I had to give it that.
Determined not to once again look like a duckling chasing after the momma duck, I hurried to match her pace.
