Little Joe

by Sandra Neil Wallace

  “How else am I gonna lead you around?” Eli asked. “Get you into the show ring?”

  Little Joe squinted and tugged harder on the rope.

  Eli closed his eyes and tugged even harder than Little Joe. Then he felt a release. He wasn’t tugging anymore. Little Joe was beside him, then bolting ahead of him at full gallop.

  Don’t let go was all Eli could think. His feet swept under him and he heard himself shout into his collar.

  Eli could catch bits of the smoke-colored sky as Little Joe dragged him down the pasture hill. He felt a stab of pain whenever his chore coat rode up and the curly dock and chokeberry bushes beneath the snow jabbed at his skin.

  Little Joe kept bawling and balking, pulling, then stopping, pulling, then stopping against the rope….

  “Help!” Eli yelled. He caught a burst of Hannah’s pink coat and her cowboy boots running. He could hear Tater barking before something sharp tore through his sleeve, smothering the shouting. Mud coated Eli’s eyes when Little Joe finally stopped. Eli blinked and forced one eye open.

  They were at the bottom of the field, halfway through the fence, in front of the apple orchard. Little Joe was breathing hard. Eli could feel his arm moving up and down with the breath. He strained to lift his head and saw the bull calf’s nostrils flaring. There were streaks of blood running down Eli’s palm onto the rope, and his butt hurt. But he hadn’t let go.

  Tater caught up and came over, panting. He licked Eli’s nose.

  “Pa, come quick!” Hannah hollered. “Eli and Little Joe are covered in muck.”

  Chapter Five

  Mending Fences

  Eli fought to keep still. Between Ma’s scissors sending prickly bits of hair down his back and the stitches he got in his hand the night before, Eli was one big itch. The Easter lily sitting at the center of the kitchen table wasn’t helping. The scent from its curled-out petals kept prickling Eli’s nose.

  “Ma, can you move that flower?” Eli wished he could get to his nose, but he was pinned underneath the haircutting cape.

  “What for?” Ma asked. She stopped clipping for a second.

  “’Cause it stinks.” Eli caught another whiff. He thought about the forgotten cantaloupes going rotten in Grandpa’s garden last summer.

  “It’s part of Easter, Eli,” Ma said. She stuck a finger in the planter, making the purple tinfoil crinkle.

  “Just like Easter bunnies.” Hannah grinned. She combed the white fur rounding Sleepy’s back while the bunny nibbled on a carrot top.

  “Hold still,” Ma told Eli. Her eyes darted from Eli’s bangs to the scissors.

  “Colored eggs are part of Easter, too,” Hannah said. “Ma, you promised we’d color eggs tonight and now you’re cutting Eli’s hair.”

  “Well, I didn’t know about the honor roll pictures until tonight. There’ll be plenty of time to color eggs tomorrow. Eli has to get a haircut.”

  “No, I don’t.” Eli squeezed his eyes shut as Ma squirted water on his bangs.

  “Yes, you do.” Ma gripped Eli’s shoulders. “I can’t have you looking shaggy in the picture. The whole town knows I cut hair.”

  “Not the shoulders, Ma!” Eli flinched. “They’re sore, too.”

  “You don’t get it halter-broke the first time.” Pa’s voice came out of nowhere.

  Eli bolted upright, nearly catching Ma’s scissors and another cut. He’d barely noticed Pa reading Lancaster Farming by the pellet stove.

  “The animal’s just not that smart,” Pa added.

  “Little Joe’s plenty smart,” Hannah shouted. “How would you like a rope around your head?”

  “Hush, Hannah,” Ma whispered. “Don’t be smarting off to your pa.”

  “Well, it’s true.” Hannah kissed Sleepy’s ears.

  For once Eli agreed with Hannah. He wouldn’t want that rope halter around his face. He knew how it felt just holding it with his hand—tore off a chunk of skin nearly an inch deep.

  “We ain’t cows.” Pa stretched the words out slowly. “Born better than that.”

  Pa spit out the last part strong as a fist.

  “Little Joe was just actin’ out,” Eli said softly. “It wasn’t his fault.”

  “Treat them all neighborly and you’re asking for trouble.” Pa clenched his paper and exhaled. “Next thing you know, we’ll be having a picnic in the pastures with them cows. And living off potato salad instead of beef.”

  “I could live off potato salad,” Hannah said.

  “Put the beef industry out of business,” Pa complained.

  “Chet, did you notice the price of eggs in the supermarket lately?” Ma asked. “The fancy ones?” Ma was good at turning the subject over.

  Pa grumbled, refusing to look up from the paper. All Eli caught was Pa’s hand reaching for his cup of coffee.

  “They call them free-range,” Ma said, tilting Eli’s head with a finger. “Which just means their chickens wander the fields like ours do.”

  Pa turned the page and buried his face deeper into Lancaster Farming.

  “They get nearly two dollars more a dozen. It’s something to think about, Chet. We used to have a sign out on the lawn saying BROWN EGGS FOR—”

  “We. Don’t. Sell. Eggs.” Pa made a rustling noise with the newspaper before he let go. He went over to the coffeemaker and poured himself another cup of black coffee.

  “Tess is coming over,” Hannah announced.

  Eli’s chest froze.

  “To teach me how to mane-braid like they do at the horse shows.”

  “Did you hear that, Chet?” Ma took the neck brush to Eli’s ears, tickling the stray hairs away. “I bet Tess’ll bring you some real milk.”

  Tess’ll be getting her honor roll picture taken, too, Eli thought. In the fifth-grade class.

  Sometimes Eli got off the school bus with Tess, saying he’d rather walk the rest of the mile home. Then he’d lie on his back in the meadow nearby, knee-deep in clover. Eli waited for the thundering of hooves and Tess nickering to get her Appaloosa to jump. He’d only look up when he heard a pause in the ring below—right when they’d both caught the wind—and horse and rider leapt into the air, clearing the rails.

  “Ma, can you hurry up?” Eli said, fidgeting. There was no way he was going to be caught getting his hair cut in front of Tess.

  “Just a few more wisps in the back, Eli,” Ma promised. “I’ll be careful going around the scratches.” The cold sides of the scissors skimmed his neck.

  “Maybe Tess’ll buy one of my Easter bunnies. I’ve only got two dwarfs left.” Hannah put Sleepy in the rabbit crate. “And Snow White’s gonna kindle again in a month, so I’ll have eight more.”

  “She’s got enough animals of her own to take care of,” Eli said. He tried to sound funny, like he didn’t care if Tess came over or not, but it came out kind of mean.

  “They’ve only got one house pet—Blue.” Hannah sounded hurt. “And he’s getting really old.”

  Pa lifted the top of the coffeemaker and poured his cup back into the filter. He never got used to store-bought milk. Said it tasted all runny and that the color wasn’t natural. Like they bleached it white or something. Eli could barely remember what real milk tasted like, but he knew they could drink as much as they wanted. That it was more cream and had a grassy smell to it—like clover and alfalfa chopped up. Pa drank it warm without shaking. He didn’t care about mixing the top part and the bottom part together.

  “There.” Ma gave Eli a smile. “All finished.”

  Eli tugged at the shiny cape with all the daisies on it. He hoped to wrench it free but banged his sore hand instead. “Ouch!” Eli shook his stitched-up palm and tried not to show how much it stung.

  “I’ll get the ointment,” Ma said.

  “Does it hurt a lot, Eli?” Hannah asked. “Here. Take Happy.” She scooped up another bunny between her arms and placed the white clump on Eli’s lap. “Give his fur a few strokes and you’ll feel better.” She smiled. “Mini-lops are the mos
t lovable buns in the world.”

  Eli felt Happy’s whiskers moving while the bunny sniffed. He clung to Eli’s thighs with his nails and blinked his ruby-colored eyes. Eli touched the droopy ears to get the bunny to stop shaking and could see the pink skin right through the fur.

  “Should I take the bandage off?” Ma asked. “And rub some more cream in?”

  Eli shook his head.

  Hannah put a bandage on the ruddy patch of moleskin covering Eli’s stitches. “This is from my Princess collection,” she said. “It’s my last Snow White.”

  It had black-haired princesses all over it. “Ah, why’d you go and do that, Hannah?” Eli moaned.

  The doorbell rang and there was Eli, in a haircutting cape covered with daisies, petting a bunny on his lap with a Snow White bandage on his bandage. He tore them all off and got Happy to hop onto the kitchen floor.

  “Hey.” Tess walked into the kitchen with a jug of fresh milk and a whole bunch of yarn.

  “Hey.” Eli fingered the tablecloth and saw that his stitches were oozing blood.

  “Nice to see you, Tess.” Ma took Tess’s coat and put it on a kitchen chair. “Oh, how thoughtful. Did you see, Chet? Tess brought us some milk.”

  Ma took the jug and put it in the fridge. “How ’bout I bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies to go with that milk?”

  “Yum!” Hannah squealed. She nudged Happy into the rabbit crate with Sleepy. “Can you make ’em extra gooey? And have Eli promise he won’t eat more than his share?”

  Eli blushed. He was glad Tess could barely see him, with the Easter lily and all. He didn’t know what to do with his hands anymore, so he leaned over, stuck a finger in the planter like Ma did and got a chin full of dusty bits from the creamy petals.

  “Hear you got stitches.” Tess rested against the kitchen table and looked down at Eli’s hand.

  “It’s nothin’.”

  “His bull calf did it,” Hannah blurted.

  “Little Joe?” Tess asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Hannah smiled and put her unicorn-mane-braiding kit on the kitchen table. “He’s the reason Eli got torn up. He dragged Eli all the way down the hill to the apple orchard and Eli never let go.”

  Tess put the balls of pink yarn on the kitchen counter. “I got my foot caught in a stirrup once. Yanked it pretty bad at my biggest show. I didn’t do well, but I’m glad me and Chili Pepper ended up okay.”

  That’s how Eli felt. Eli was glad Little Joe turned out to be okay. He didn’t care about the stitches.

  “Good thing you brought real milk,” Hannah said, brushing her unicorn’s mane. “Pa spits out store-bought milk every time. It makes Ma so mad. First, he makes a funny face right before he does it, then he marches over to the sink and just spits it out.”

  “We can hear you, Hannah,” Ma reminded her, scooping out flour from the pantry. “Tess, has your mother’s perm relaxed by now?” Ma asked.

  “It’s perfect, Mrs. Stegner.” Tess smiled. “More like the ripples from a French braid than a poodle’s fur.”

  Hannah looked up at Tess. “Can you show me how to mane-braid?” she asked. “I already know how to braid regular. Ma taught me.”

  Tess leaned over, took Hannah’s fingers and reached for the unicorn’s purple mane. “Let’s do rosebud braids,” she said. “First you divide a handful of hair into three strands, like this.”

  Eli pretended not to listen. He pulled up a chair next to Pa, taking a section of Lancaster Farming.

  “After you’re finished braiding, you take the yarn—” Tess glanced over at the kitchen counter, where she’d left the bright pink balls of yarn.

  Eli had them in his hands before Tess could move.

  “Thanks.” Tess smiled. “You take a piece of yarn and thread it into the needle. That’s good, Hannah. And sew it through the braid, up to the crest. Who did the stitches?”

  Was Tess talking to him?

  “The Krakowski girl,” Ma said, mixing the dough. “She’s working in the emergency room now.”

  “I thought so. Hannah, look at this technique.” Tess pointed to Eli’s hand. “It’s hunter style. She shows jumpers. She did a really nice job of it.”

  “If Little Joe goes lame, you could win a blue ribbon with your stitches, Eli.” Hannah tilted her chair back and laughed.

  “He ain’t lame.” Eli put his sore hand in his pocket. “He’ll take the blue ribbon.”

  Pa sat up straighter, folded his section of the newspaper and half smiled at Eli. “Let’s go outside and finish mending that fence your bull calf tore through,” he said.

  “Chet, shouldn’t he wait until the stitches heal?”

  “I’m fine, Ma.”

  Ma came over and spread a bandage across Eli’s palm, careful not to make it too tight.

  “Come on, Tater,” Eli called. He was out the door before he remembered he didn’t say goodbye to Tess.

  “Cookies will be ready in half an hour!” Ma hollered from the porch. “Make sure you put on gloves, Eli. It’s still winter. Even if it is the tail end of March.” Ma threw on the porch lights and lingered at the door. “Careful not to brush against my lilac shoots.”

  But Eli could tell that the deer had already nibbled the first buds clean off the branches.

  It had been dark for a while and cloudy. Tater jumped through the murky air into the truck bed and waited for Eli to catch up. Eli slid against the back of the cab and tapped at the window to let Pa know they were ready. He hung on to Tater as the Silverado zigzagged down the pasture and watched Ma’s silhouette in the doorway’s amber glow get smaller.

  Eli and Pa worked together in silence, fixing the fence he’d rammed into with Little Joe. Burrowing his boots into the muddy trail the pickup’s tires had made, Eli uncoiled the spool of barbed wire. Pa wrapped it around the fence post, drawing it snug before cutting it with pliers.

  The only noise Eli could hear was the motor of the Silverado running. And sometimes Tater. He barked whenever a white-tailed deer darted across the pasture.

  The last of the barbed wire found a weak spot in Eli’s glove. He flinched as it bit into his sore hand. Eli stopped feeding the wire to Pa and pulled off his glove.

  “Still bleedin’?” Pa asked.

  Eli nodded and stroked the bandage to keep it from curling up. He shivered inside his jacket and put the glove back on. Digging his boots into the wheel marks once more, Eli tried to find traction, but the ridges of mud had frozen up.

  “It’ll callus up soon,” Pa said. “Rope burns always do. First they crack open, then they heal and harden up for good.”

  Eli followed the yellow high beams lighting up the fence posts. He tried to catch sight of Pa’s eyes, but they were blocked by the brim of Pa’s Chevy cap.

  Had Pa hardened up for good?

  Eli reached for the spool, not quite knowing what to say. “Little Joe came out of it okay,” he mumbled.

  Pa tugged at the top wire to see if it felt secure. “First thing in the morning, Eli, you get back in the barn and show that calf who’s boss.”

  Eli focused on the frosty billows of Pa’s breath as Pa picked up a rotted oak branch and threw it for Tater to fetch.

  “Have Ma wrap some gauze over your hand and you won’t feel a thing.”

  Eli watched the glints of silver wire coiling out from between his gloves, wondering why Pa hated cows so much. He’d been around them all his life, same as Eli, only they didn’t seem to make Pa happy. Eli always felt better knowing there were cattle around. He’d look out the window and there the cows were, chomping or sniffing. Coming off the school bus, he’d catch a glimpse of them huddled up beside the pines and out of the wind, blinking at him. Or he’d spot the tops of their backs, knowing that when he got closer, their chunky necks would be outstretched, skimming the grasses for food.

  Eli looked up and saw Ma in the stream of the pickup’s high beams, clutching her coat to her ribs. “Ned Kinderhoff called,” she said.

  Pa’s jaw tightened, b
ut he kept twisting the wire around the post.

  “He wants you at the sawmill by six in the morning.”

  Pa jabbed the rim of his cap with his thumb. “He knows I won’t say no,” Pa mumbled.

  Ma came over and stood by Pa. “We need the money, Chet.” Ma lowered her voice, but Eli still heard. He knew all about Ned Kinderhoff. He grew pumpkins bigger than Pa’s and beat him out at the fair. Whenever they sat down to dinner without Pa, it was because of Ned Kinderhoff.

  “We’re all done here, Eli,” Pa said.

  Tater barked at Hannah running down the pasture, her mittens hanging from her neck. “Can I ride in the back of the truck with Tater and Eli, too, Pa?” Hannah asked.

  Pa nodded.

  “Come on, Tater.” Eli knew they were both in for a ride full of talking.

  “Can I mane-braid Little Joe’s tail, Eli? Now that I know how?”

  “No.”

  “How come? He’s your show animal.”

  “’Cause it’s not right. He’s a boy.”

  “Then I’ll mane-braid Fancy’s tail.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “’Cause she needs it to take care of Little Joe and swish flies away. Go find yourself a unicorn.”

  Hannah went silent for a moment and looked up at the night sky. Tater crouched down low and dug his head under Hannah’s mitten, looking for a belly rub or even just a scratch.

  “You have to believe in unicorns before they’ll show.” Hannah turned to face Eli. “And the whole family’s got to believe.”

  Eli wasn’t sure what he believed. He looked down at his glove and wondered if his sore hand would be ready by tomorrow. And if he really wanted it to be. He’d promised that nothing would happen to Little Joe. Now he’d gone and made the bull calf afraid and sent him fleeing clear across the pasture.

  “Unicorns can’t be tamed, either.” Hannah scratched the knuckle on Tater’s head. “Not like Tater. Or Little Joe.”

  Eli wasn’t really sure if Little Joe could be tamed.

  “Unless—” Hannah stuck the word right out in the air.