by Linda Byler
Lizzie, Emma, Marvin, and Elsie slid down a long, wooden bench. Their plates were a bit smaller than the grownups’, and their glasses were not pretty, but plain, plastic, everyday tumblers. Lizzie wished she was old enough to eat from the big plates, with fancy glasses to hold her drink.
They all bowed their heads for a silent grace, or “patties down.” Lizzie wondered if Grandpa Glick fell asleep, because she couldn’t hold her head up for a very long time, and her nose was terribly itchy. At home, when her nose was itchy, she always lowered her head as far as she could. That made it easier to lift one finger and scratch her nose, so that it was barely noticeable. But here in the presence of company she couldn’t do that, so she just had an itchy nose, and that was that.
As soon as Grandpa Glick raised his head, the chattering started. It seemed to Lizzie everyone was talking and nobody was listening. The food was being passed at an alarming rate, and Lizzie could barely keep up. She was really hungry, so she piled lots of mashed potatoes on her plate.
Mam came and stood behind Emma and Lizzie to help them with the big platter of chicken and stuffing. She helped Lizzie with the rich, salty gravy and spread butter and raspberry jelly on a slice of homemade bread.
Lizzie ate until she was almost full, but not quite. Some of the aunts teased Emma and Lizzie for heaping their plates so full.
Aunt Sarah tugged on Lizzie’s apron, tickling her waist. “No wonder you’re getting chubby, Lizzie, the way your plates were piled!”
Lizzie didn’t answer, because she was a bit embarassed. She didn’t mind being chubby. Besides, Aunt Sarah wasn’t skinny, either. So when the chocolate cake and pumpkin pie were passed, Lizzie helped herself to a huge piece of each. That made her feel better, because it tasted so good and comforted her.
As soon as everyone was finished eating, Mam and the aunts passed cups of steaming hot coffee. Marvin looked at Lizzie and sighed. That meant they had to sit there until everyone was finished with their coffee.
Lizzie swung her legs. Emma took a drink from her plastic cup. Elsie scraped her plate with her spoon to clean it well.
Marvin said, low and under his breath, “C’mon. Hurry up and drink your coffee.”
“Shhhh!” Elsie warned him.
Lizzie swung her legs some more. Emma asked, “Who is going to be the cow?”
Marvin assured her, “You’re all cows. I’m the man.”
Elsie glared at him. “You’re always the man, Marvin.”
“Well, I am a boy!”
“Shh! Patties down,” Emma whispered, and everyone lowered their head. Lizzie didn’t say thank you for her food again. She was too excited, thinking of playing cow in a real cow stable.
As soon as Grandpa Glick raised his head, they swung their legs across the wooden bench, and threaded their way through the kitchen full of aunts and babies. They found their sweaters among a heaping pile of shawls and bonnets, and Lizzie was in such a hurry she put her sweater on backward. Elsie really thought that was funny.
They raced out the walk and across the gravel drive, pushing open the big wooden door that led to the cow stable.
Inside, there was a long concrete aisle in the middle covered with white lime. On each side of this wide aisle was a ditch that Marvin called “the drop.” On each side of the drop were stalls made of steel pipes, that separated one cow from the other. And each cow had a little bowl that you could press down on a little paddle on the bottom, and water gushed out. Lizzie often wished she’d be allowed to drink out of those little bowls, like a real cow, but Emma said it was too dirty.
Along each side of the cow stable, where the cows’ heads were, was another corridor where the feed cart was kept. There were bits of hay scattered around, but never any cow feed or silage, because the cows always licked up every bit of that while they were being milked. But there were no cows in this big, clean barn today, because they were all out in the pasture. They were allowed to play and didn’t need to worry about the cows coming in to chase them out.
The most exciting part was the bull’s pen in the farthest corner. The bull stayed in there a lot; Lizzie guessed because he was so angry. He stood and watched the children with his head lowered, chewing his cud. He could never break out of those iron bars, so Lizzie was not really afraid, as long as Marvin didn’t tease him too much.
They found the express wagon, and Marvin told all the girls to sit in it, because they were cows now, and he was bringing them home from the auction. Elsie bristled at that, because she didn’t think they should sit; cows don’t sit down! So they all tried to get on their hands and knees on the wagon at one time, but the wagon was too little.
Marvin took off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, Elsie, you stay here, and I’ll take just Emma and Lizzie.”
“That’s dumb, Marvin. Every time we play something, you act like you’re the boss. I’m not going to stay here,” she pouted.
“Now behave yourself, Elsie. You know you don’t all fit in this wagon!” Marvin was quite exasperated.
“I’m not going to,” Elsie said, quite firmly.
“Oh, you act just like a cow!” Marvin yelled at Elsie. Lizzie thought that was hilarious. So did Emma. They laughed until they almost fell off the wagon.
“It’s not funny,” shouted Elsie.
Emma and Lizzie quickly stopped laughing. Elsie looked as if she could burst into tears, and Lizzie pitied her. Marvin was bossy.
Emma said, “Why do we have to be at an auction? Why can’t we just walk into a cow pen and then start to play cow?”
“That wouldn’t be near as real,” Marvin argued. Lizzie was getting tired of this. She didn’t know why Marvin thought he had to bring them home from an auction.
“Marvin, just put us in a stall, and let’s play once,” she said.
Marvin glared at her and threw down the wagon handle. “I’m not going to play cow, then!”
“Well, good!” Elsie chirped, and picked up the wagon handle. “Then I’m the man.”
Marvin pushed Elsie away. “No! I’m the man.”
“Okay then, if you’re the man, we’re going to our stalls.” And Elsie marched into the stalls, followed by Lizzie and Emma. They dropped down into the clean straw on their hands and knees.
Marvin put his hat squarely on his head and followed them. He took the chain that hung at each stall and fastened it to the neck of their aprons. Lizzie felt like a real cow, and Emma mooed loudly. They collapsed in a fit of giggles, and Elsie gasped, “Emma, cows don’t moo that loud!”
Emma only mooed louder, and Marvin told her to stop that; cows do not make near that much noise!
They played all afternoon. When Marvin got too bossy, they unhooked their own snap and went running down the cow stable aisle until he caught them and made them go back. It was wonderful fun. They pressed down all the paddles on the water bowls until they were filled to the brim with cold water.
They even tried to taste the cows feed, because Lizzie said it smelled good. Marvin told her it was because there was molasses in the feed.
“How do you know?” Elsie asked him, picking a piece of straw out of her hair. “You don’t know if they put molasses in there or not. I guarantee they don’t.”
“Oh, yes—they do so! I asked Dat.”
“You think you know everything all the time,” Elsie retorted.
Lizzie brushed the lime off her black apron. She smiled at Emma. Emma smiled back at Lizzie, and they both knew why they had to smile. They loved Marvin and Elsie, and they loved to hear them argue, because Marvin was so fussy. And Elsie was always sure that Marvin didn’t know anything. Of all the people they knew and loved, Marvin and Elsie were the best.
Their smile faded as they heard a low, rumbling sound. They all turned and watched, their hearts thudding in their chests, as the low sound echoed again, only louder.
Marvin grabbed Lizzie’s arm. “It’s the bull.”
Emma’s face turned pale. Lizzie chewed her lower lip. Elsie’s eyes
were big and round.
Whack! The sound of a dull thud against iron caused them all to jump in terror.
“Wow!” Marvin breathed.
“He’s mad, Marvin!” Lizzie was terrified.
“He can’t get out,” Marvin announced loudly, but when Lizzie glanced at him, she saw him swallow. He was afraid, too.
“Let’s go in.” Elsie sounded as if she was going to cry.
“Let’s do,” Emma and Lizzie agreed.
But Marvin was fascinated as the angry bull bellowed again. He slammed his forehead into the iron bars and snorted loudly.
A shiver of fear ran up Lizzie’s back. Marvin watched the angry creature a while, then said, “Watch!” And he charged toward the bull, yelling at the top of his lungs.
The bull cast a bewildered expression at Marvin, and hopped to the other side of his pen with a stiff-legged gait. He watched warily as Marvin let loose a volley of horrible shouts.
“See?” Marvin laughed. “He’s scared.”
The girls could see the bull standing away from the bars, and he certainly did not look very angry anymore.
Elsie, Emma, and Lizzie all agreed that Marvin was really a big, brave boy, and he sure knew how to handle a mad bull. They figured he was probably right about cow feed having molasses in it, too.
chapter 12
Emma Is Sick
Emma! Emma!” Mam’s voice brought Lizzie from a deep sleep. It was a cold autumn morning, and the soft, warm flannel sheets were so cozy. Lizzie opened one eye and peeped at Emma. She was still sound asleep and did not answer Mam.
“Emma!”
Mam’s voice was a bit louder and more insistent. “Mm-m,” Lizzie answered because Emma would still not wake up. She just lay there and went right on sleeping.
“Come, girls,” Mam went on. “It’s time to get up and get dressed for school.”
Lizzie threw back the covers and reached over to shake Emma a bit. She drew back in alarm when she touched Emma’s arm. She felt like a heater—her arm was so warm. Lizzie bent over and felt her cheek. It was flushed bright red, and her forehead felt almost hot.
Lizzie shook Emma, saying, “Emma, wake up. Mam called us and it’s time to get up.”
Emma opened her eyes, blinked, and looked at Lizzie. Her hand flew to her throat. She gasped, coughed, and started crying. She choked, coughed some more, and gave Lizzie a bewildered look.
Lizzie hopped onto her knees and bent over Emma. “Are you alright?”
“N-n-no,” Emma cried.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. My throat hurts, but I actually hurt all over.”
“Do you want me to go tell Mam?” Lizzie was really worried because Emma was not often as sick as this.
“Y-yes.” Emma was crying softly.
So Lizzie jumped off the bed and stuck her feet into her soft blue slippers, because the wooden floor was so cold. She slipped through the door and called, “Mam, come here! Emma doesn’t feel well!”
Mam was stirring something on the stove, but she turned and asked, “What’s wrong with her, Lizzie?”
Lizzie walked over to Mam and peeped into the pan to see what she was stirring. Mam put her arm around Lizzie’s soft flannel-clad shoulder and squeezed. “How is my little Lizzie this cold morning?”
Lizzie saw what Mam was stirring. It was hot cocoa, which Lizzie just loved—especially when Mam made fresh shoofly pie. Mam would put a piece of it in a cereal dish and Lizzie poured her mug of hot cocoa over it.
Mam turned off the burner and took Lizzie’s hand, “Come, Lizzie, we’ll go see what’s wrong with Emma.”
As they entered the girls’ room, Mam became very concerned when she heard Emma’s soft crying. She dropped on her knees beside the bed and felt Emma’s warm forehead.
“Emma, honey, my goodness—you’re warm! Did you feel sick last night when you went to bed?”
“No, not really.” Emma sighed. “I just hurt all over and I couldn’t sleep for a long time because my legs hurt so much.”
“Well, there’s no school for you today, that’s for sure. You just stay under the warm covers and I’ll fix you a nest on the couch,” Mam said.
“Can I help you?” Lizzie asked.
Fixing a nest was always something Mam did if they were sick. First she would spread a soft, clean sheet on the living room sofa. Then she put a pretty flowered cover on their pillow, plumped it up comfortably, and let them lie down on the sweet coolness. She allowed them to use soft baby blankets to cover themselves.
And then, best of all, there was a tray. Mam would put orange juice in a small glass, usually a fancy one, and add some buttered toast or milk. Whoever was sick was allowed to have their tray on the sofa, and did not have to eat at the table with the rest of the family. They always felt extra important, having a tray.
While Mam and Lizzie were spreading the sheet, they heard a loud thump from the bedroom. Lizzie ran to see what had happened. Emma lay on a heap beside the dresser, her face completely white. Lizzie screamed and screamed. She was certain Emma had died.
Mam moved swiftly past Lizzie, and with a soft cry of alarm, scooped Emma up in her arms. Quickly, she carried her through the kitchen, bending a bit as she opened the door with one hand. Dat appeared in the kitchen, having heard Lizzie scream.
“What is going on?” He dashed across the kitchen, out to the screened-in porch where Mam was trying to revive Emma with the cold winter air.
“Emma!” she kept repeating over and over, while Dat looked on quite helplessly.
“Let me take her,” Dat said.
Mam handed her to Dat, while tears formed in her eyes. Dat talked softly to Emma, asking her to wake up.
Suddenly her body shuddered and her eyes flew open. She started crying as the cold air hit her fever-wracked body.
“Emma, honey, don’t cry.” Mam reached over and kissed her pale cheek.
“You’ll be alright,” Dat crooned as he carried her into the warm kitchen. He laid her tenderly on the sofa, while Emma cried softly.
Mam brought her a cold drink of water, but Emma wasn’t thirsty and just turned her face away.
“She’s really a sick little girl,” Dat said.
“Yes, she certainly is. We may as well make an appointment with Dr. Parker as soon as they’ll take her.” Mam looked worriedly at Emma, then at the clock.
“Lizzie, it’s high time for you to get ready for school. My goodness, you’ll be late if we don’t hurry. Go get your dress on, and I’ll comb your hair.”
So Lizzie hurried back to the cold bedroom and shivered into her dress. She sat on her unmade bed and pulled on her black stockings. Mam combed her hair, pulling horribly on the snarls, but Lizzie clenched her teeth and didn’t say anything.
“There,” Mam said, patting her shoulder. “You’re all set for school. Lavina will soon be here, so get your coat and bonnet. Lizzie, do you know where your mittens are? You got them wet last night, you know.”
“I don’t need any,” Lizzie said. “It’s not really cold this morning.” She scooped up her lunchbox, and ran over to the sofa. Bending over Emma, she said softly, “Bye, Emma. I have to go to school now. You have to go to the doctor today. I hope you don’t have to get a shot. Bye.”
“Bye, Lizzie.” Dat was sitting with Emma, waiting for breakfast, and watching her still form. He looked worried.
“Bye, Dat. Bye, Mam,” said Lizzie quietly and let herself out the door and down the stairs.
She waited and waited by the porch post. She watched down the street, hoping to catch sight of Lavina. But there was no Lavina this morning. Instead, a horse and buggy came dashing up the street. Lizzie backed hard against the porch post, because it looked like a really fast horse. The harness had lots of pretty white rings and shiny silver buttons all over it. The buggy did not have a roof on it like Dat’s carriage did. It just had a seat out in the open. The young people that weren’t married used them. When it rained they had to use a big blac
k umbrella tilted the right way so the rain would stay off them.
Lizzie always thought it would be so much fun to have a ride in an open buggy. But nobody ever asked her to ride in one, and she would never ask anyone, because it would be much too bold.
So she felt her heart pound when the buggy came to a halt, the horse’s hooves spraying gravel as the driver called, “Whoa! Whoa there!”
“Are you Lizzie?” The young man tilted back his straw hat and smiled at her. “I’m supposed to take someone to school this morning, because Lavina Lapp is sick. Do you want to go along with me?”
Lizzie took a small step forward, adjusted her bonnet with one hand, clutching her lunchbox more tightly. She looked up at the young man and was overcome with terrible shyness. His hair was long and black, straight as the horse’s tail. His eyes were very dark brown and crinkled at the corners when he smiled at her. Lizzie thought he looked like an Indian she saw in the encyclopedia at school.
She had to clear her throat before she finally managed to say, “Ye-es, I’m Lizzie. My sister Emma is sick, too.”
“C’mon, Lizzie. Give me your hand and I’ll help you up. Here, give me your lunch first. Whoa. Whoa.” He pulled back as the horse lunged forward a bit. “Careful. Now jump.”
A strong hand pulled her small hand up, and—as if by magic—Lizzie was sitting beside him on the seat. It was so high! It seemed as if she sat up way too far, and the horse was too far away from the buggy. It was so deliciously scary!
“C’mon. Gidd-up!” The young man pulled back on the reins and let loose quickly. Lizzie’s head flew back against the seat as the horse was off to a fast start. The wind grabbed at her bonnet strings and flapped her skirt. She reached to tuck it under her legs.
Lizzie looked over at the young man. She couldn’t help but giggle. Her little laugh made him smile, and he looked down at her.
“Is this your first ride in a buggy?” he asked.
He smiled again when Lizzie’s giggles became infectious.
