“Stop!” cries Thomas.
The prod has a hook at one end, and the man walks up to Brown Cow.
“You’ll hurt her,” says Thomas loudly. One of his brothers begins to cry.
“Wait,” says Thomas’s father softly.
Everyone stops and looks at him. Gran gets out of the car and stands next to Liam.
“I don’t think I like you,” Thomas’s father says to the man.
“A deal is a deal!” the man shouts.
“Well, hello there, Jake,” says Gran. She speaks as softly as Thomas’s father.
“You!” says the man harshly “You again.”
“Yes,” says Gran. “Me.”
“This woman,” he sputters, “she bought a white cow out from under me a long time ago!”
“And I paid much too much money,” says Gran.
I look at Gran.
“My secret until now,” she says.
“A true gift,” Thomas’s father says. “Its own reward. I’m sure that cow never thanked you.”
Thomas’s father holds out the check. “You take this and leave,” he says to the man. “Now, please.”
The man stares at him, then at Gran. He grabs the check, muttering, and gets in his truck. He starts his truck and drives off fast.
It is quiet.
Thomas puts his arm around Brown Cow.
Liam holds out the money. “This is for you,” he says.
Thomas’s father takes it. He doesn’t count it. “Thank you,” he says. “That was a good thing you did. I don’t remember Thomas ever loving a calf this much.”
He looks at Thomas with his arm around Brown Cow.
“Thomas can visit this little animal whenever he wants?”
Gran smiles. “Anytime. Every day if he wants,” she says.
“Thank you,” he says to Gran.
Gran shakes her head. “It was them,” she says, meaning Liam and me.
“Mostly Liam,” I say. “He sold his books.”
Thomas’s father swallows as if he might cry. He holds out his hand and shakes Liam’s hand. “Merry Christmas,” he says.
Liam and Thomas and I walk Brown Cow up the road. It is late afternoon and the light slants across the fields.
“Brown Cow is happy,” says Thomas.
Liam smiles.
“White Cow will be happy soon,” he says.
Cars pass us on their way home or to market. The girl on horseback comes down the road.
“Hello, cow,” she says as she goes by.
“Hello, girl on horse,” says Liam, making us all laugh.
We pass the field with bright red barberry bushes. We pass a house or two, lights turned on inside. No one has curtains at their windows here, because it is the country. There is no one to look in, only deer and coyotes and once in a while a confused bear that comes out of winter hibernation.
We pass the little brook that flows under the road.
And then we can see the barn at Gran and Grandpa’s house.
Grandpa and Gran stand on the porch. They have been waiting for us.
We turn up the long driveway and walk along the fence. Before we reach the gate, White Cow comes out of the barn. She sees us. She moos loudly, and Brown Cow moos back. White Cow runs down to the gate. I’ve never seen White Cow run before. She moos again and again, and Brown Cow answers her.
Thomas takes the rope from around Brown Cow’s neck, and we open the gate.
Brown Cow rushes in, and White Cow begins to lick her all over. She licks Brown Cow for a long time.
And then White Cow lays her head on Brown Cow’s head.
“A true gift, like Thomas’s father said,” says Liam in the softest voice I’ve ever heard.
Christmas Eve
We have hung decorations on the tree, including two small cows that Grandpa brings; one white, one brown.
Mama and Papa will come tomorrow morning.
White Cow and Brown Cow are close together in the old barn, and Liam and I go to bed; Liam with Emmet, me with Charlie, watching the stars and a huge full moon appearing over the meadow.
“Lily. Lily!”
It’s very late when Liam shakes me awake.
“Lily. Something’s happening.”
“What?” I sit up, frightened. “What’s wrong?”
There is the sound of dogs barking somewhere.
There are lights outside and muffled noises, the sound of a truck on the road.
I hear Gran and Grandpa talking downstairs.
“Come,” says Liam, pulling me out of bed.
We run downstairs.
The porch light is on.
Grandpa is putting on his coat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Don’t know,” he says. “I am going out to check. You should stay here.”
“I will not,” says Gran, putting on her coat and hat.
“I’m coming too,” says Liam.
I grab my coat and boots and follow them out the door.
The moon is so bright that the meadow looks white. We walk down the sidewalk and across the driveway to the meadow fence. Our feet crunch in the snow.
“Look!” says Grandpa.
There in the meadow is a small decorated Christmas tree; silver balls and chains gleam in the moonlight.
“Wherever did that come from?” says Gran.
And there is more.
White Cow and Brown Cow turn their heads to look at us. But with them are more cows.
“There,” says Grandpa. “And there!”
“And more cows over there!” Liam says.
I can’t count all the cows. When they look at us, we can see the moon in their big eyes.
We walk closer.
So many cows. It feels like a dream.
We can’t speak.
“What happened?” I ask Grandpa, leaning against him.
Gran picks up a stack of papers. They are Liam’s notices.
“The people in town read about White Cow,” she says.
“There’s a note,” says Grandpa.
Merry Christmas,
White Cow. You shouldn’t be
alone for Christmas.
“Will all these cows stay here forever?” asks Liam.
“No,” says Gran, laughing. “I think this is a Christmas visit.”
“A Christmas visitation of cows,” says Grandpa with a smile.
“She will always have Brown Cow,” says Gran.
We are quiet again, looking at the cows in the snow-covered meadow. All those big faces.
“That is quite a sight,” says Grandpa.
“It is,” says Gran. She looks at her watch. “It’s Christmas,” she says.
“I’ll say it is,” says Grandpa.
“Merry Christmas, White Cow,” I call to her.
“Merry Christmas, Brown Cow,” calls Liam.
“Merry Christmas, all cows!” says Gran.
And when we walk back to the house and turn to look at the meadow, an ocean of eyes looks back at us in the moonlight.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Patricia MacLachlan is the bestselling author of beloved books for young readers, including Arthur, For the Very First Time, winner of the Golden Kite Award for fiction; Baby; Journey; Sarah, Plain and Tall, winner of the Newbery Medal; and her most recent book, Edward’s Eyes. She is also the recipient of the National Humanities Medal, and is a board member of the National Children’s Book and Literacy Alliance. Patricia lives with her husband in Williamsburg, Massachusetts.
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