Till the Cows Come Home (2 page)

“And your degree is in what, exactly?”

“You sure you want to know?

I shrugged.

“I have a Ph.D. in Genomics and Computational Biology. It basically means messing with DNA and computers.

I raised an eyebrow. “So do I have to call you
Doctor
Moyer?”

“Only if you want to send me into a fit of giggles.”

“Don’t knock it,” Hubert said. “You’re our town’s only Ivy Leaguer.”

She wrinkled her nose. “In a sense. I was just a scholarship kid.”

“Doesn’t matter how you paid for it,” Hubert said. “You’re still one of them.”

Irritation flashed across her face, to be quickly replaced by a tight smile. “Well, Hubert, I’m sure Stella has better things to do than stand around yakking with us all day.” She turned to me. “I guess officially I’m the one you call now if you have any concerns or questions about farm stuff.”

“You know me,” I said. “As long as I’m left alone to run my place and take care of my herd, I’m happy as a pig in shit.”

Pam chuckled and they turned to go. I touched her elbow. “How’s your dad doing?”

Her face dropped, and her eyes swiveled toward Hubert.

“Give us
ladies
a few minutes, Hu,” I said.

He put out his hand. “No problem, no problem. I’ll see you soon, Stella. I wait with anticipation for the day you call me.”

“Then you live for disappointment. Get lost.”

He dropped his hand and stalked to his car.

“So what’s up?” I asked Pam. “Your dad’s still farming, isn’t he?”

“Turning the ground over every year. I swear one day he’ll die sitting on top of that damned combine. If the vultures don’t run him out first.”

I grunted. “Developers?”

“If that’s what you want to call them. Hardly a week goes by he doesn’t get some kind of offer. Wouldn’t you know I have to put up with the worst of them driving me around today.”

We glanced over at Hubert’s Lincoln Town Car, where he was feigning disinterest.

“Your dad holding up okay?”

“He’ll keep the farm if it kills him. Every day I see him grow older and more determined. Breaks my heart. If Mom were still around he’d be living off Social Security by now.”

We watched a cow meander up to the paddock gate and sniff at the lock, turning her lip up at the smell.

“You?” Pam said.

“Same old, same old. I drive Hubert away every chance I can. I won’t sell, either, but I can’t say my checkbook’s happy about it.”

She shook her head. “Dad goes into debt deeper every year. Has a bad crop, has to borrow to make up for what he didn’t make. Then the next year the bank won’t lend him as much because his profit was so low. In fact, we have an application in at the bank as we speak. Should be hearing any day. Not that I expect anything.”

I sighed. “I’m right there with him.”

We stared at the cows some more until Pam shook herself. “Guess I’d better crawl back over to the Devil’s car. Can’t believe I have to spend the day with him.”

“You’re a strong woman. You can handle it.”

She smiled. “I learned it all from you.”

I laughed and jutted my chin toward the car. “Just don’t sign any papers he gives you.”

“Don’t worry. He gives me papers my dad’ll run him over with a tractor.”

Now that was a pleasant vision.

Pam smiled again and trotted over to Hubert’s car.

I crossed my arms over my chest, then regretted it when I felt more slime from my coveralls transfer to my skin. I stayed that way, however, and watched while Hubert and Pam drove off in the Town Car, kicking up a cloud of dust. The CHP design on the door looked incongruous with the expensive vehicle. CHP, meaning Communities of Hubert Purcell. I thought of it as CHeaP.

Queenie came running, barking at the departing car, and I went back into the barn, musing over Pam Moyer and hoping she wasn’t being played for a fool by Hubert Purcell.

By this time, Carla had packed up her tools and was squatting on the floor, checking out the calf and talking to Zach. Howie was gone, off to do some other chores. Wendy stood lazily munching some hay Howie had put out. I glared at her, then grabbed a pitchfork and started cleaning up the mess around her feet.

Carla pushed herself up and gathered her bags. “Isn’t it about time you got ready for lunch?”

I poked the fork into a cake of sticky straw. “I want to get this cleaned up first. Why? What time is it?”

“It’s already noon. Weren’t you supposed to be there by now?”

“Be where?”

She looked at me with exasperation. “Your birthday dinner, you dope. Ma Granger said we’d eat as close to noon as possible.”

I smacked my forehead with my hand, which was a mistake, given the spray it produced. I had forgotten all about the dinner. I had forgotten all about my
birthday
.

“Well, I’ve gotta get this taken care of—”

“Stella!” Zach yelled. “Watch out!”

Before I had a chance to react, Wendy lifted her tail and sent a stream of urine gushing out, splattering off of the floor and onto my legs and arms. I jumped out of the way and slipped on a pile of manure, Wendy’s other most recent gift, and fell right into the pouring stream.

Zach and Carla stood open-mouthed and silent as Wendy’s tail lowered and the river stopped flowing. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose. If either one of them showed a hint of laughter, I was going to have to deck them. Luckily for them, their eyes showed not a flicker.

We all looked at each other without moving.

“Well,” Carla finally said. “I guess we’ll tell Ma you’re going to be a little late for dinner.”

Chapter Two

Carla was gone, headed over to Ma Granger’s with Zach in the passenger seat, itching to tell his family all about his new calf. Howie was in his apartment, located above my garage, and I stood in the lane, watching Wayne and the tanker truck disappear.

Only when I realized I was standing in the full sun and the filth on my body was starting to dry did I make a move toward the house. Ma would understand my lateness and would go ahead and get the Granger clan fed while I took a much-needed shower. I really wasn’t looking forward to a birthday party, anyway. The only reason I had agreed to any kind of celebration was that Ma was throwing it, and that meant a family get-together. There would be a few people there who weren’t actually family, including Howie and Carla, and even me, but as far as Ma was concerned, we were all family.

The Grangers and Howie are all the family I know. When my father died in a farming accident when I was three, my mother was bound and determined to keep the farm and make it work. Howie Archer was our farmhand at the time, and my mother made it clear he was welcome to stay. He had stayed, and had been living in an apartment above the garage for almost thirty years. There were times I was sure he would have liked to exchange his bachelor’s quarters for the farmhouse and my mother’s bed, but he never brought it up, and by the time I was sixteen my mother was dead from breast cancer and Howie was still alone, living above the garage.

I wasn’t a typical sixteen-year-old, having lost both parents and being a farmer to boot, and Howie made sure nobody, including Hubert Purcell, got anywhere close to taking anything from me. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Howie, who knows where I’d be by now. I glanced up at the garage and hoped Howie hadn’t been too hurt when I’d snapped at him that morning.

I took off my boots outside the back door and shook out my hair the best I could. Stopping in the mudroom, I stripped down to the skin, loading the clothes into the washer and starting it right away. The smell was already invading the house, and it would have been too much for even me.

Upstairs, I went into the bathroom and started the shower, stepping in only when I was sure the water was cool enough I wouldn’t suffocate on this hot July day. I washed my hair twice and scrubbed as hard as I could with the Lever 2000 bar, and the water running down the drain eventually cleared.

I was pulling on my underwear when I snagged a callous on my finger. I looked at my hands, chapped and dry, and thought if anything showed my twenty-nine years, it was them. The rest of me was holding up pretty well.

I never was one to win beauty contests. Not that I tried. But my body is hard and angular where other women are soft and round. I may not fill up a swimsuit the way other women do, but I can throw bales of hay five feet up into the hayloft and wrestle a cow to the ground, if I have to. The sun’s done its best to age my skin, but fortunately I have my mother’s olive tones, and I can’t burn if I try.

“You about ready, Princess?”

I looked out my open window, hiding behind the curtain, and Howie peered up from the yard.

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

I threw on some jean shorts, a black T-shirt, and some tennies I dug out from the back of my closet, and ran a brush through my short dark hair. I keep my hair short partly for the fact it’s wash-and-go and partly to show off the cow skull tattooed at the base of my neck. The horns reach around to the front so you can just see the tips of them when you’re looking at me head-on. Howie about
had
a cow when I came back with it, but he’s learned to ignore it. He wasn’t so appalled when I came home with “To thine own self be true” scripted around my left biceps, but he didn’t acknowledge it, either. Zach is constantly after me to get “Got milk?” engraved on me somewhere, but so far I’ve managed to put him off.

I glanced in the mirror, decided I looked presentable, and ran down the stairs to meet Howie.

“You want to drive?” he asked.

“How soon do you need to get back?”

“The milking parlor’s ready for tonight, and I got the feed set to give out. I can stay away a few hours.”

“All right, we can go together then. It’s too hot to take the Harley, anyway. C’mon, Queenie.”

The three of us hopped in my truck, an older version of Carla’s, and headed to the Grangers’.

Howie give a big sigh and settled back into his seat. Queenie stood behind us and stuck her head out the back sliding window. Her tongue flapped in the wind and made splatter marks on the window panels, but I didn’t care. I’d gotten her when she was two months old, and that little ball of brown and white fluff had turned into one of my closest friends. Man’s best friend? Make that “Woman’s,” and we’ve got an agreement.

I took my companions’ cue and relaxed, too, trying to fend off the feelings of hopelessness that had been brought about by Pam’s visit. The ride to Ma’s would take ten or fifteen minutes, and it was mostly a pretty one. We had to pass several packed developments that had popped up, but eventually we came to more open countryside. I had to wonder how soon that would be gone, too.

A few miles from home, Howie turned to me. “Time to place your bets.”

I grinned. “How ’bout one of those new Hummers?”

“Oh, good one.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m feeling sophisticated today. I say a Cadillac Sedan DeVille. Black.”

We approached the bed-and-breakfast, and I slowed. Das Homestead, a family home dating back to the 1700s that housed General Washington during war years, pandered to the elite, and it was a game for Howie and me to guess what vehicles would be gracing the parking lot on any given day. The more expensive we guessed, the better chance we had.

I smacked the steering wheel when the parking lot came into view. “Damn, I’m good. Look at that thing.” The Hummer sat in its spot like a huge toad. An armored one.

Howie grunted. “Birthday luck. What do you want to bet my Caddy’s there on the way home?”

“Sore loser.”

About half a mile from Ma’s I had to slow down to negotiate some curves that took us almost perpendicular to the road we’d been traveling, and then back again—a regular S curve. I had to shift down to get the truck around them, and I wished I was on my bike. Those curves were fun on the hog—maybe because they were a little scary. The right angles and the menacing gravel along the sides of the road, not to mention the steep ditch leading down to a creek, made for exciting riding.

Once we were out of the curves, we could see Ma’s house in the distance.

The party was in full swing when we got there, with numerous Grangers seated under trees and at picnic tables, and kids running around with water pistols. The crowd seemed smaller than usual, though, and I wondered about it.

I parked along the lane amidst the other trucks and cars, and hopped out. Queenie jumped out behind me, wagging her tail furiously.

“Whose little toy is that?” Howie asked, pointing to a shiny red Volkswagen Beetle.

I stared at it. “I have no idea. None of the Grangers would be caught dead in it.”

Howie chuckled at the thought.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the birthday girl finally making an appearance.” Jethro Granger, father of Zach and oldest of the Granger eight, enveloped me in a bear hug.

“I was busy giving your son a new pet,” I said, extricating myself from his huge arms.

“Don’t worry, we’ve been hearing all about little Gus. Now come on and get some barbecue before Ma throws a fit.”

Queenie stood looking at me with expectation, her eyes bright.

“Go ahead, girl,” I said. She gave a little yelp of excitement and ran ahead of me.

I waded through children and adults, shaking hands and getting lots of hugs, until I finally reached the kitchen, where Ma stood over the sink.

“Aren’t you going to sit down and take a break even when the guest of honor’s here?” I asked.

“Oh! Here you are at last. Let me fill you up a plate of meat, then you can get the rest out on the picnic table. I’ve been keeping this warm in here for you.”

“Thanks, Ma. You spoil me.”

“Nonsense. Your mother would have done the same, so I figure she’s watching from heaven to make sure I’m taking care of you.”

She handed me a plate with a slab of beef, and I gave her shoulders a squeeze with my free arm. “Whatever. I sure appreciate it.”

“Now get on out there and eat up. You need your energy.”

“Yes, Ma.”

The picnic table was full of all the usual goodies: cole slaw, baked beans, deviled eggs, and potato chips. All very healthy, I’m sure. I put a forkful of Ma’s homemade potato salad into my mouth and closed my eyes, savoring the flavor.

“Hey, birthday girl.”

I opened my eyes and looked into a pair of beautiful hazel ones. I forced myself to swallow through my suddenly tight throat. “Abe. What are you doing here?”

“What kind of a welcome is that? I was due for a long weekend, so I came home. Wouldn’t have missed your party.”

I grinned. Abe was the youngest of the Granger clan, about six months younger than me. He was also the only son whose name was something other than a Biblical “J” name. Ma somehow knew from the point of conception that Abe was going to be different from the rest of the gang, and had named him accordingly. How right she’d been.

I had been instituted as the “adopted” Granger daughter when I saved Abe from drowning at the age of ten. My mother and I were picnicking at Lake Nockamixon when this dumb kid had fallen out of a boat minus a lifejacket. Without thinking I had dived into the water and dragged him out, kicking and screaming. How humiliating to be saved by a girl. He eventually got over the embarrassment and we’d been the best of friends ever since. We may have been more, but we were both too stubborn to admit it.

But just then, on my twenty-ninth birthday, my insides began tapping out a little line dance they hadn’t done before. Abe was looking awfully good.

“Well,” I said. “I’m glad something can bring the black sheep home again.”

“Hey, just because my collar’s a different color doesn’t mean I’m not my mother’s son.”

“Tell it to the judge.”

A hand snaked around his elbow. “Abie? Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

My line dance froze. “
Abie?”

Abe smiled uncomfortably. “Missy, this is Stella. Stella, Missy.”

“How do you do?” the little brunette said, sticking out her hand.

I looked at it a moment before taking it.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she said. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”

“Bug,” I said.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You own the VW Bug.”

She smiled. “That’s right. How did you know?”

I looked at Abe, but he avoided my eyes.

“Lucky guess,” I said. “I’m going to go eat now. Nice to meet you.”

I found Howie sitting at a table with Jethro and his wife, Belle. She looked a little pale, but I didn’t think it would be polite to comment on it.

“Who’s the co-ed?” I asked.

Jethro laughed. “I thought you’d be surprised. Ain’t she something?”

“How come nobody told me about her?”

“Aw, they just started goin’ out. Anyway, we figured you’d meet her whenever she showed up. Why does it matter?”

I shrugged and kept my eyes averted. “It doesn’t.”

“Great barbecue,” Howie said. “As usual.”

“Don’t worry,” Belle said. “It probably won’t last.”

“The barbecue?” Howie said, concerned. “Is it almost all?”

Jethro laughed again. “Abe’s new girlfriend, she means. But I don’t know. He’s pretty sweet on her. And she’s smart. Works in his accounting firm and all.”

Belle looked at me and I shrugged again. “It’s his life. How’s she getting along with Ma?”

Belle grinned. “Okay, except for when she tried to put her luggage in the same room as Abe’s. Ma made it very clear there was to be no fornicating under her roof.”

This pleased me an uncomfortable amount.

“Hey, Stella!” Zach came running up. “Grandma wants to know if you’re about ready to open presents.”

“
Presents
?”

“Of course presents,” Belle said. “We can’t have a birthday party without presents.”

“Oh, all right. Remind her I just got my food. Let me at least finish my lunch.”

Zach ran off, and Jethro slapped Howie on the shoulder. “Told you she’d hate presents.”

“Where’s Mallory?” I asked, to take the attention off myself.

Mallory is Zach’s older sister, baby-sitter extraordinaire. Usually at these occasions she would be herding the smaller tikes, but I didn’t see or hear her today.

“Oh, she’s got that flu,” Belle said. “Just came down with it last night and feels something awful. I wanted to stay home with her, but she insisted I come. Said the baby-sitter didn’t need a baby-sitter.”

I laughed. “Sounds like her.” I pushed my plate away and leaned my elbows on the table. “What is this flu? Aren’t lots of kids getting it?”

Jethro nodded. “Just the last couple weeks. Must be some new strain. Haven’t found a medicine to beat it yet, so it must be viral.”

“And it’s just kids?”

Jethro shrugged. “Pretty much. Not many adults have gotten it, except ones who’re already sick with something, or real old folks. That could change, though. They say it might just take longer for grown-ups because of our immune systems or something.”

“Any of the other cousins have it?”

“Joseph and Joshua each have a sick one,” Belle said, talking of Granger sons number two and seven. “Jacob” (number five) “says Nina is keeping a close eye on their two. She wouldn’t even bring them today, in case someone here was contagious.”

Jethro rolled his eyes. “Like a kid’s gonna die from a little cold.”

“Come on, Stella!” Zach stood about thirty feet away, the still-healthy kids around him, anxious for presents even though they weren’t theirs.

I pushed myself away from the table. “I guess this is it.”

“You make it sound like going into battle,” Jethro said.

Howie laughed. “For her, it is.”

I made a face. “Bah, humbug.”

Finally we were all gathered in one general area under some trees so I could do the embarrassing thing and open presents. Gifts ranged from flannel shirts to chrome knick-knacks for my Harley to a Stevie Ray Vaughn CD. Quite a haul.