A Star Discovered

by JoAnn S. Dawson

  “Well, it’s true. Grass is the best thing for horses or cows, either one,” she nodded. “Now what’s this I hear about the baby, then?” Mrs. McMurray put her hands on her hips and waited for a reply. Mary looked at Jody and could see her lips beginning to quiver, so she answered the question for her.

  Mrs. McMurray was busy hanging overalls on the clothesline in the side yard.

  “Oh, it’s awful, Mrs. McMurray. The man that owns Star’s father wants to take Star away from us and we don’t know what to do. But we’re going to figure it out somehow,” she added quickly.

  “I know. Willie told Mr. McMurray all about it, and he told me. Now I wish there was something I could do to help, but you know Mr. McMurray hasn’t been in the best of health . . .”

  “Oh, we know, ma’am. Don’t worry, we’ll come up with something. We have a whole month, minus one day,” Mary said, trying to sound confident for Jody’s sake.

  Mrs. McMurray turned to her basket of clothes, so the girls couldn’t see that her lips were quivering as well. Then she straightened her back and turned to face them.

  “Girls, don’t forget that when God closes a door, he opens a window,” she said. “We must always remember that.”

  Mary and Jody nodded in unison. As they turned to ride on, Mrs. McMurray suddenly snapped her fingers.

  “Now wait, I have an idea. Why don’t you finish your ride and then come up to the house. I have a little job you can help with, and I can give you a little money for it too until you’re better paid. It might start you on your way.”

  “OK! Thanks a lot, Mrs. McMurray. We’ll be up in an hour or so,” Mary assured her.

  The kindly woman put her hands on her hips and watched as the girls rode down the driveway and onto the dirt path that led to the field of pines. She knew the scant amount of money she could pay them would do little to help with their dilemma, but she thought her little job would get their minds off their worries, and she thought it would be good for them to be near her if they wanted to talk. She stooped to get the last pair of Mr. McMurray’s overalls from the wicker basket, hung them on the line, and headed into the house to prepare the midday meal.

  13

  The Picking House

  IT WAS JUST past noon when Mrs. McMurray answered the knock on the double doors of the big stone farmhouse and ushered Mary and Jody into the bright blue and yellow kitchen.

  “I’ll just be a minute finishing up these dishes,” she said, rinsing off the last plate and putting it in the drying rack on the drainboard. “How was your ride then?”

  “Oh, it was so nice,” Jody sighed. “We saw a fox in the pine field, and he just sat and looked at us. He didn’t even run away!”

  “And then we practiced cantering in and out in a serpentine around the littlest trees at the far end. Lady and Gypsy are so good at that! Our legs never even got scratched by the pine needles!” Mary added proudly.

  “Well, I’m glad you had a good time. Are you ready for a little work?” Mrs. McMurray asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

  “Sure we are!” Mary announced. “What are we going to do?”

  “Well, we’re going out to the picking house to dress some chickens for market. Mr. McMurray got a big order this week, so we need a few extra hands. Roy and Jimmy are already out there. Now, if you’ll wait just a minute, I’ll get my singeing pan.”

  Mary and Jody looked at each other wide-eyed, completely lost by what Mrs. McMurray had just said.

  “Why do we have to dress up the chickens?” Jody wondered out loud. “Are they going to sell them with clothes on?”

  “Maybe Mr. McMurray sells chickens to the carnival. Have you ever seen those chickens that dance and play tic-tac-toe and stuff? Maybe he’s dressing them up for that,” Mary guessed.

  “But what’s a singeing pan?” Jody asked.

  “And I don’t even know where the picking house is,” Mary added, baffled by all the new terms and wondering why, in all their years at the farm, they had never heard them before.

  “Well, come on then, girls. Follow me,” Mrs. McMurray instructed, striding out the door with a metal pan that looked like it was previously used for canned ham. Mary and Jody followed obediently through the door and around the back of the house where a small cinder block building sat at the corner of the chicken yard. Outside the building was a huge black pot with a fire going under it and steam wafting from the top. When Mary and Jody passed by the pot, they saw that the water was close to boiling inside. Near the pot was a long metal pole hanging lengthwise between the lower branches of two mimosa trees. From the pole there hung five or six lengths of baler twine with a loop at each end. Mary and Jody, still dutifully following Mrs. McMurray, almost tripped over each other as they stared at all the strange apparatus. Then they entered the picking house.

  There in the little building were Mr. McMurray, Annie’s father Roy, and her brother Jimmy. They all sat silently hunched over the task at hand, which was definitely not putting clothes on chickens. In fact, the newly deceased chickens were in various stages of nakedness, in the process of having their feathers plucked out. These were white-feathered birds, unlike the Rhode Island Red hens in the egg-laying house. Mary and Jody gasped in unison at the sight before them. Now they understood why the little building was called the picking house.

  “But, but, but . . . Mrs. McMurray, I thought you said we were going to dress up the chickens,” Mary sputtered.

  “Dress up . . .?” Mrs. McMurray began, and then she stifled a grin. “Oh no, Mary—I said we were going to dress the chickens; that means get them ready for market, for people to eat. Now, you like chicken, don’t you?”

  “I used to,” Mary said, putting her hand over her mouth. Jody simply stared speechlessly at the plucking process.

  “Um, Mrs. McMurray, is there another job you might like us to do?” Mary asked sweetly. “We could go gather the eggs for you . . .” she suggested, turning in unison with Jody to flee the premises as quickly and quietly as possible.

  “Girls.”

  The word was practically spat from Jimmy’s mouth. “Shoulda known better than to ask girls to do a job like this. They’re just chickens themselves,” he continued, shaking his head but never looking up from the bird he was plucking.

  Mary and Jody stopped in their tracks and looked at each other in shock. They had seen Jimmy around the farm, getting the cows in for milking or helping his father repair farm equipment. They had commented on how he looked so different from Annie with his dark hair and broad shoulders. But they had never actually heard him speak. And they definitely didn’t take kindly to the first words they had heard him say.

  “Jimmy, hush,” Roy admonished his son. Jimmy just shook his head and continued plucking. But the challenge was too much for Mary.

  “Mrs. McMurray, I think we can help you with this after all,” she offered bravely. “Now, what do we do first?”

  “But, Mare . . .” Jody squeaked, pinching the sleeve of Mary’s shirt.

  “Jody, Jody, it’s fine. The chickens are . . . are . . . no longer with us, so they don’t feel a thing. And besides, the feathers have to be taken out, or there’s no way you could eat the chicken. Right, Mrs. McMurray?”

  There in the little building sat Mr. McMurray, Annie’s father, and her brother.

  “Yes, that’s right, Mary,” Mrs. McMurray agreed solemnly. “And after the feathers are picked out, the innards have to be taken out as well. Now we don’t need help so much with that part as Jimmy and Roy are both here, but we could use a couple of extra hands picking.”

  Jody’s mouth flew open at the thought of “taking out the innards,” but Mary was not to be outdone by Jimmy. “Well, now, Mrs. McMurray, if you do need help with those innards, we’ll be here,” Mary said confidently.

  “What do you mean, we?” Jody whispered in Mary’s ear. “I’m not doing that!”

  Mrs. McMurray turned away so the girls couldn’t see her stifling a grin. “Now just wait here by the
table, girls. It looks like Mr. McMurray is getting a chicken ready for you,” she said, bustling out the door toward the steaming black kettle. Jody grimaced when, through the open door she saw Mr. McMurray holding a chicken by the feet and dipping it several times into the pot.

  “Oh, Mary, do they drown the poor chickens?” Jody sputtered. “Is that how they do it?”

  Jimmy glared at Jody in disbelief. “Don’t you know anything?” he growled. “The chickens are already dead when he dips them. The hot water loosens up the feathers, so you can pull them out easier.”

  “Girls, the chickens are put to sleep very fast so they don’t feel anything,” Jimmy’s father began kindly. “Now, what Mr. McMurray does is . . .”

  “Ohhh, that’s OK, Mr. Mooney. You don’t have to explain it or anything,” Jody interrupted while Jimmy rolled his eyes.

  Mary and Jody were ready at the long oilcloth-covered table when Mrs. McMurray returned with the steaming chicken. When she plopped it down in front of the girls, Jody stepped back in dismay while Mary leaned forward curiously to get a closer look. Mrs. McMurray put both hands on the sodden breast feathers and began vigorously pulling them backward until they came out in handfuls.

  “Now, you see, the feathers come out easily when they are dipped in the hot water first,” she explained. “After we get the main feathers out of the breast and wings, then you can sit down and pluck the smaller ones. And then we put a little fire in the singeing pan to singe off the tiny hair-like ones,” she instructed briskly. “Now, who’s ready to give it a try?”

  “I am!” Mary raised her hand courageously.

  Jody glanced sideways at the lifeless bird and took another step back. “I’ll watch you first,” she said.

  Secretly hoping Jimmy was watching, Mary put her hands on the breast of the chicken just as Mrs. McMurray had and swept the rest of the small breast feathers from the yellow breast. Then she took the longer wing feathers in hand and pulled them out one by one.

  “See, Jode, nothin’ to it,” she crowed.

  “What have we got here then?” Mr. McMurray boomed, coming through the door with another chicken ready to be plucked. “Brand new chicken pickers?”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. McMurray. It’s not so bad when you get used to it,” Mary said, turning the chicken over so she could get to the feathers on the back.

  “Hmmph,” Jimmy snorted from his seat. He handed the chicken he had been plucking to Mrs. McMurray for singeing and stood to work on the one Mr. McMurray had just set on the table.

  “Hey, it’s Jody’s turn with that one!” Mary admonished, looking up at Jimmy, who was really quite a bit taller up close than she had expected.

  “She’s not gonna do it,” he smirked.

  “Oh yes, I am,” Jody declared, pushing her way between Jimmy and Mary and taking command of the breast feathers. “I can do it just as well as you can.”

  Mr. and Mrs. McMurray exchanged amused glances with Mr. Mooney, and then it was all silence in the picking house, as they each attended to the task at hand. Jimmy stood by and watched Jody with grudging respect as she enthusiastically took to the job of plucking the breast feathers, even offering his assistance when it came time to pull out the larger wing feathers.

  “Move your hand down closer to the chicken’s body and pull them out from the base instead of grabbing them by the end,” he suggested. “They come out easier that way, and you don’t break them off.”

  “OK, thanks,” Jody murmured, forgetting her resentment and concentrating on doing the job just so. Mary was already seated with a burlap feed bag on her lap, working on the smaller feathers of her chicken, and Mrs. McMurray was carefully passing a plucked bird over the small flame in the singeing pan, burning off the last of the tiny hairlike feathers.

  It was almost time for milking when the picking crew finished the last of the poultry that had been ordered for market. Jimmy and Roy left to help Willie get the cows into the barnyard, and Mary and Jody stayed behind to assist Mrs. McMurray with the sweeping of all the wayward feathers from the picking house floor.

  “Now, we’ll finish up after milking, but as I said, you girls don’t have to help with that part,” Mrs. McMurray said generously, not mentioning again exactly what that part would be. Then another thought occurred to her.

  “You know, we do have a few extra chickens that haven’t been ordered for market,” she said. “Should I call your parents and tell them? Wouldn’t you like some fresh chicken for dinner tonight?”

  “No!” Mary and Jody shouted in unison.

  “I mean, thanks, Mrs. McMurray, but I don’t think I could eat chicken right now,” Mary said sheepishly.

  “Me either,” Jodi agreed. “It’s different when it comes from the grocery store and you don’t know it personally.”

  This time Mrs. McMurray didn’t even try to hide her amusement. “OK, girls, I understand,” she laughed. “Now come on up to the house and I’ll pay you for your labor. I know it won’t help your predicament much, but it’s a little something, anyway.”

  The girls sighed as they followed Mrs. McMurray to the big stone house. They had been so involved in learning the new skill of chicken plucking that they had almost forgotten about the crisis with Star. And that was just what Mrs. McMurray had intended.

  14

  The Visitor

  THE NEXT MORNING found Mary and Jody straddling the lowest and thickest branch of the horse chestnut tree in the side yard of the big stone farmhouse, shelling corn off of the cob by hand for the Muscovy ducks that roamed freely on the property. The squatty white ducks fought each other greedily for the hard kernels of corn dropping from the tree, swallowing them whole and pecking the ground for more. The girls would normally be giggling at the antics of the funny-looking fowl, but this morning they were too lost in thoughts of Star and the dreadful possibility of losing him. Neither of them wanted to be the first to bring up the subject, so they sat apathetically loosening the corn from the cob with their thumbs and watching in silence as each yellow kernel dropped to the ground.

  The silence was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a car’s tires crunching on the gravel of the long farm lane. Mary and Jody looked up to see a small blue sedan pull up in the driveway of the farmhouse and a man with a clipboard in his hand emerge and knock on the door.

  “They’re not home,” Mary said quietly so that only Jody could hear. “They’re off to market to sell naked chickens.”

  Jody giggled in spite of herself as they continued to watch the man. He knocked once more and then turned and got back in his car. But rather than driving out the lane, he steered toward the house trailer where the Mooneys lived. Mary and Jody peered through the leaves of the horse chestnut tree as the man got out of his car once more and spoke to Annie, who was out in the front yard playing with Heath. Annie disappeared into the trailer and soon reappeared with her father, who began a long conversation with the man. Mary and Jody watched him gesture and point at various spots around the farm, first at the farmhouse, and then the barn, and finally at Lucky Foot Stable.

  “What in the world do you think he wants?” Jody asked, throwing her empty corncob to the ground, where the Muscovys fought over it until they realized there was no corn left.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s a salesman. Willie said a man stopped by last week and wanted to paint the barn, and another one came that wanted to put a new roof on. Mr. McMurray’s always turning them away,” Mary answered indifferently. “Come on, let’s go down to Lucky Foot and bring Star in and groom him. Maybe we should put his saddle and bridle on and walk him around the farm. We’re going to have to start putting some of our weight on him soon to get him used to the feel of it.”

  Jody didn’t reply but tears once again sprang to her eyes. Maybe Star wouldn’t be around long enough to start putting their weight on him. What were they going to do?

  The girls swung down together from the thick branch of the tree, scattering ducks every which way, and linked arms on their way
to the stable. As they passed the house trailer, the man with the clipboard was walking toward the big white dairy barn with Mr. Mooney, and Annie and Heath were nowhere to be seen.

  “Wow, Mr. Mooney is spending a lot of time with that man. Mr. McMurray usually just sends them on their way,” Mary observed.

  “Mare, maybe he wants to buy the farm!” Jody cried in a sudden panic. “Willie said Mr. McMurray was thinking about selling it!”

  “Well, if he wanted to buy the farm, he would have to talk to Mr. McMurray, not Mr. Mooney,” Mary replied matter-of-factly. “Let’s not worry about that until we know what it’s all about. We have other things to worry about, you know.”

  This was the first reference to the trouble with Star, and still Jody could not bring herself to talk about it. Oh, if only not talking about it would make it go away!

  Mary and Jody entered the cool stillness of Lucky Foot and were calmed by the sight of Finnegan sleeping peacefully in a spot of sun just inside the stable doors and Colonel Sanders strutting around pecking at imaginary pieces of grain on the dirt floor. They went silently to the Dutch doors leading to the paddock and leaned over. Star was napping on his feet at the far end, the tip of his nose almost touching the ground.

  “Star!” Jody called softly. “Wake up, little guy!”

  Now it was Mary’s turn to get a lump in her throat as Star raised his head and nickered softly at the sight of the two girls.

  “Hey, buddy, come on over,” Jody called again. Star stretched himself fore and aft like a dog, shook his head and yawned, then strolled over to where Mary and Jody waited with hands outstretched. He sniffed both of their hands in turn, looking for treats and then snorting wetly in their faces. Mary and Jody giggled through their tears and opened the bottom of the Dutch door to lead him in for grooming. When Mary turned to open his stall door, Annie was standing in the middle of the stable aisle.