Mr. Slinger walked over, looked up at the box and frowned. “Won’t be anything in it we can use to fix the broken blade, but we may as well find out what’s inside.” He got out an old metal box to stand on so he could reach above the beam easily, but the box wouldn’t move. Then Mr. Slinger tried to pull it out from between two beams. After a few attempts to retrieve the box, he was successful.
“It’s full of something heavy,” he said. Tim’s dad carefully stepped down off his perch and with a grunt set the box on the barn’s dirt floor. The top of the box was nailed shut. “That’s odd. I’ve never seen one of these with the top nailed on, unless it’s . . . uh oh,” Tim’s dad said, looking at him. “Go get me a pry bar from the toolshed—fast!”
Tim ran out and across the barnyard to the tool shed, grabbed a pry bar and ran back to the barn, handing it to his dad. His dad then carefully pried the top off the wooden box and jumped back, alarmed. “Crud! It’s full of dynamite!”
Tim leaned forward to look inside “Why is it wet?” he asked. The sticks were glistening, like they had just been sprayed with water.
“Get back! That isn’t water. When dynamite gets old, the nitro sweats out of it. You can toss a stone in there and the entire box will explode!” Dad said.
Tim quickly backed away. He had seen dynamite destroy an entire barn in the TV Westerns. “What’re we going to do with it?” he asked.
“I can think of a few things.”
Mr. Slinger was excited over this surprise gift. There were many projects on a farm a military-grade explosive could be used for. But he wanted to make sure he didn’t blow himself up, or anyone else, for that matter.
“Get out of here and make sure your sister stays away, too. I need to call someone who knows how to handle this stuff,” Dad said. Later that day, Tim’s Uncle Jack showed up. Uncle Jack had served in the Navy and was a World War II veteran who had been around his share of explosives.
The two men went into the barn, but Tim was not allowed to join them. About an hour later, they came out, with Uncle Jack carefully cradling the dynamite box in his arms.
“Come on!” Dad called to Tim.
Tim ran over to them and they all climbed onto the tractor. They drove to the old apple orchard on the backside of the barnyard.
Dad explained to Tim what they were going to do. “We’re going to get rid of these big stumps and add some acreage to the wheat field.” For years, Mr. Slinger had been slowly chopping the stumps out with an ax and dragging them away with the tractor. Today, the stump removal process was about to be raised to a whole new level.
Tim watched as the two adults used a hand drill to bore a hole beneath each side of the largest stump in the apple orchard. Uncle Jack carefully took two sticks of dynamite out of the box, attached a three-foot-long fuse to them, and then inserted the dynamite into one of the holes. He repeated the process for the other hole. In the meantime, Tim’s dad set the dynamite box safely behind one of the large tractor wheels and placed Tim next to it. “Stay here,” he said.
Tim crouched behind the huge tractor tire, feeling both excited and afraid. The dynamite explosions on TV were always as loud as fireworks on the Fourth of July, but more destructive. He wanted to see the stump blown to bits, but didn’t want any of it heading in his direction.
Tim peeked around the tire as his dad and Uncle Jack prepared to light the fuses with cigarette lighters. The dynamite had old-fashioned fuses, which proved challenging—both fuses had to be exactly the same length and lit at exactly at the same moment in order for the two sticks of dynamite to blow up together.
“Now!” Uncle Jack said to Mr. Slinger.
Uncle Jack flicked his lighter and held it next to the fuse on his side of the stump. It took two flicks of Mr. Slinger’s lighter before he could draw a flame to light his fuse. With both fuses lit, the men quickly joined Tim behind the tractor wheel. A few seconds later, there was a loud wumph, like the sound fireworks make when they come out of the launch tubes. But there wasn’t a big explosion.
“That’s it?” Tim asked. They all stood up to look.
“Oh, no!” Uncle Jack said, pointing up in the air at the smoking stump arching high across the sky, burning embers and bits of wood trailing it.
“It’s gonna hit the barn!” Dad said.
“No, it’s going all the way over the barn, no problem,” Uncle Jack said.
“What about the house?” Tim asked.
“Crud!” Dad said.
Tim’s dad and uncle took off running across the barnyard toward the lane to the house, with Tim chasing after them. When they spotted the house, they all skidded to a stop. Tim’s mom was standing in the front yard, holding Dana’s hand, and the two were staring at the stump sitting right in the middle of the front porch, still smoldering.
Dana spotted her brother and pointed at him. “I told you he wants to kill me,” she said.
There are times when no words come to mind. This was one of them. Tim, his dad and Uncle Jack turned around and slowly walked back to the tractor with the complete understanding that their stump-blowing operation was officially finished.
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Chapter 10
Things were pretty quiet around the farm for the next few days. The crops weren’t ready to harvest. Tim’s dad and uncle repaired the front porch after the dynamited tree stump destroyed part of it, and Tim helped his dad fix the broken manure spreader, much to Tim’s dislike. Dana was busy in the garden with Mom, and Patsy was eating hay and grain now, so Tim didn’t have to give her milk in a bucket anymore.
But something didn’t feel right to Tim about his parents’ behavior. He was a little suspicious when, before bedtime, Mom asked him and Dana to come out of their rooms to talk with her in the kitchen.
The two sat down at the kitchen table and Mom got them ice cream. Being served ice cream when they didn’t have any visitors was never a good sign of things to come.
Mom sat down across the table from her children and watched them eat. Then she said, “You two are going to have to grow up a little now.”
Dana and Tim looked at each other then at their mom.
“I will when she does,” Tim said.
“You first,” Dana said.
“Both of you will quit fighting all the time and grow up right now!”
Dana and Tim put their spoons down and waited quietly for whatever lecture was coming.
“You two are going to have a new baby brother or sister in a few months,” Mom said.
Dana and Tim stared at her. They didn’t know what to say. And Mom didn’t say anything for an uncomfortably long time. Finally, she asked, “Well, what do you think about that?”
“Is it going to be a brother or a sister?” Dana asked.
“We don’t know yet.”
“Tell me when you find out, and then I will tell you how I feel about it,” Dana said. “I’m going to bed.” She got up and walked out of the room.
Mom watched her, frowned, and then looked at Tim. “Well, what about you?”
“Do you want another baby because Dana and I fight too much?” Tim asked.
“What? How could you think that?” She stood up, looked at her son then turned away. “Never mind. We’ll talk about this again when it gets a little closer.”
Mom walked out the back door, clearly upset with Tim and Dana’s reaction to her news.
Dana came back into the kitchen and sat down at the table across from her brother. “What are you going to do about this?” she asked him.
“Do about what?”
“Having a baby in the house.”
Tim couldn’t figure out why he would have to do anything about it. “Are you worried about not being the baby in the family anymore or something?” Tim asked her.
“No, not me. But who has to take care of every baby born on this farm?”
Dana was right. Most of Tim’s chores involved feeding or cleaning up after the newborn calves.
“I don�
�t think Mom is going to ask me to take care of her baby,” Tim said.
“Somebody has to while she’s working in the fields.”
“Maybe that’s why Dad said he would teach me to drive the tractor, so I can work in the fields and Mom can stay home,” Tim said, nodding his head as if he had everything figured out.
“You? Operating a tractor? The poor cows will starve to death!” Dana said. The Slingers fed their cows hay, grain and corn from their fields.
“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Tim said. He didn’t appreciate Dana making that comment—it wasn’t very nice. That’s why I call her “Devil Dana,” he fumed to himself as he got up and headed up to his room.
Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about having a new baby in the house. He didn’t really remember Dana as a baby, but he was already helping baby-sit some of his younger cousins. Sometimes it was fun. Other times, it was filled with crying, spilling food, poking eyes and just a lot of work.
But babysitting his cousins lasted only a couple of hours. Having a baby living with them all the time meant no escape. Still, if Tim had the opportunity to learn to drive the tractor and help in the fields instead of being a Poop Slinger all the time—including a Poop Slinger for a little baby brother or sister—it would be worth it.
As Tim climbed into bed, another thought came to him. He wondered if this baby news was somehow linked to Mom asking Dana about moving to town. Everything was starting to come together, everything was beginning to make sense. Tim felt very uneasy as he closed his eyes to sleep.
* * *
The new baby topic didn’t come up again. Then one morning, the Slingers popped another surprise on their children—they walked into the kitchen, Dad carrying a large cardboard box.
“What’s in there?” Dana asked.
Dad placed the box on top of the table. “Take a look,” he said.
Dana and Tim pulled the flaps back slowly and spotted a shiny little black nose between two bright eyes. “A puppy!” they both said.
“Her name is Bell. She’s only six weeks old,” Mom said. She lifted the little ball of black-and-brown fur from the box and placed it on the table.
Dana ran her hand across Bell’s back. “She’s so cute!” Dana said.
Tim smiled as he reached out and touched Bell’s little nose. It was soft, wet and cool.
“She looks healthy, too. Why did you get a puppy?” Tim asked, knowing everything on the farm, no matter how cute, had to have a purpose. There were no free rides allowed.
“She’s a hunting dog. She’ll be worth a lot to us when she grows up,” Dad said.
“But for now, you and Dana are going to take care of Bell together. Both of you have responsibility for her,” Mom said to Tim.
“I told you,” Dana said.
“But we don’t know how to take care of a puppy,” Tim said.
“You’ll learn. It’ll be easier than taking care of Patsy,” Dad said.
Dana noticed Bell walking in circles and sniffing the table. “I think she wants to pee.”
“Then take her outside,” Mom said.
Tim picked up Bell and went outside with Dana. He set the puppy down and she ran around sniffing the ground then squatted. When Bell was done, she ran over, bit Tim’s shoelace, pulled on it, jumped back and barked.
“She likes you,” Dana said.
“Maybe this will be fun,” Tim said.
He lifted his foot up to dangle the shoelace in front of Bell and Dana sat down in the grass. Both kids played in the yard all day with their new pet. Close to suppertime, Bell crawled into Tim’s lap and instantly fell asleep. He put his hand on the warm ball of fur and felt the tiny heart beating inside.
“You know why Mom did this, right?” Tim asked.
“So we can practice taking care of a baby,” Dana said.
“Yeah, but I don’t get it. I don’t think we’ll be taking Mom’s baby out in the yard to pee.” Both laughed out loud at Tim’s silly joke.
“Better take her back inside.” Dana said.
Dana followed Tim as he carried Bell back into the house. They found Mom sitting at the kitchen table.
“Where should we put her?” Dana asked.
“Her food, water dish and bed are next to the stove,” Mom said. She pointed to a small wicker basket with a blanket in it.
“Why is Dad’s old alarm clock in her bed?” Tim asked.
“When you put the clock under the blanket, the ticking sounds like her mother’s heartbeat. It makes her feel safe,” Mom said.
“Did you put a clock in my bed when I was a baby?” Dana asked.
“No, but when you were crying, your father would lay you on his chest so you could hear his heartbeat and you would stop crying almost instantly.”
“What about me?” Tim asked.
“You slept like a rock from day one, except when you were hungry,” Mom said.
Tim laid Bell in her bed then tucked the clock under the blanket. It was one of those big, yellow wind-up clocks with two bells on the top. Tim could hear it ticking all the way from the living room. He figured his mom was right because Bell was still sleeping peacefully when they all went to bed.
But there was one flaw in the alarm clock plan. That alarm clock was an old one Dad had used to wake him up at 4:30 every morning to go milk the cows. When Tim set it in the basket, he must have accidently set the alarm button, because, when 4:30 came, the bells went off like a fire alarm and Bell jumped right out of the basket. Howling loudly, Bell was so scared she took off running, not stopping until she was upstairs on Tim’s bed. She tunneled underneath the covers and wouldn’t come out.
“Where is she?” Dana asked when she came into Tim’s room. The surprise alarm had woken her up, too.
Tim pulled back his bed covers until Bell’s head was sticking out. She was still shivering with fear.
Dana reached out to pet Bell on the head. “Poor baby.”
Mom came in. “Sorry,” she said.
“Will your baby sleep with the clock?” Tim asked.
“No. Trust me, our baby will wake up in the middle of the night without a clock. And so you both know, there will be extra chores when the new baby comes, too,” Mom said.
“Okay, we’ll help. Tell Dad I’m going to work real hard on learning to drive the tractor,” Tim said.
Dad entered Tim’s room, holding a hot cup of coffee. “What about the tractor?” he asked.
“I need to learn to drive it pretty soon so Mom can take care of her baby.”
“You don’t need to worry about the tractor right now,” Dad said.
“Go back to sleep,” Mom said.
Tim’s parents headed downstairs, but Dana stayed behind long enough to get one more dig in on Tim. “Told ya,” she said.
“Get out of my room,” Tim ordered.
And she did, leaving Tim alone with the puppy curled up next to him. He reached down and pulled Bell out, placing her on top of the covers next to him. Bell sat up and stared at him, panting, with her little pink tongue sticking out of her mouth.
“What’s happening to us, Bell?” Tim asked.
Bell yawned, lay down and closed her eyes. Tim tried to go back to sleep, but it was hopeless. Bell never slept in the kitchen again, but in Tim’s bed every night. And Bell wouldn’t eat at all until her food dish was moved to the other side of the kitchen.
Dana and Tim worked out an acceptable plan for puppy duties. But deep down inside, Tim was worried about the future, as Dad had canceled his tractor-driving lessons until further notice.
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Chapter 11
Tim and Dana were allowed to sleep in that morning, which was unusual on a farm, since most chores couldn’t wait. But the alarm-clock incident had woken them up so early, their parents decided it best that they get some extra rest.
Mom had a late breakfast ready when they got up. “Guess what?” she said when she saw them come into the kitchen.
“I can’t
handle any more surprises right now,” Tim said.
“So you don’t want to go to Chicago to visit Roxy?”
“I wanna go!” Dana said.
“They moved already?” Tim asked.
“Yes. Aunt Linda wants us to come see their new apartment. She says Roxy misses you both a lot.”
“When are we going?” Dana asked.
“Friday. We need to go while I can still travel comfortably. Uncle Jack is going to take care of the farm for a few days.”
On the day of their road trip to Chicago, Dana and Tim were excited. But that excitement lasted for only the first hour. They still had three more hours of driving to go. All Tim wanted to do was escape from the family’s hot, bumpy, noisy vehicle. He missed being outside.
Then the city of Chicago came into view. Tim thought their barn was huge, but the skyscrapers made their barn look like a Tinker Toy.
“How many kids did you say live in Roxy’s apartment building?” Tim asked.
“I don’t know about kids, but there are hundreds of families living there. More than in our whole town,” Mom said.
“Where do they hunt?” Tim asked.
“You can’t hunt in Chicago,” Dad said.
Tim frowned as the scenery turned into office buildings, factories and parking lots. “Where do they build hay forts?” he asked.
“No hay in Chicago,” Dad answered.
Dana leaned forward to get a better view of a large school with a concrete playground next to the highway. “What do they feed the cows?” she asked.
“No cows,” Mom said.
Tim tried to spot one thing that looked familiar as they passed a few more buildings, but it was hopeless. “What do they have?” he asked.
“People. Lots and lots of people,” Mom said.
“Little girls, too?” Dana asked.
“Yes, lots of little girls, too,” Mom said.
Tim stared out the window as the highway became more and more crowded with cars. “Poor Roxy must hate it here,” he said.
The Cow-Pie Chronicles Page 5