The Cow-Pie Chronicles

by James L. Butler

  Dad turned the family car onto a narrow road that wove between row after row of huge apartment buildings. “Almost there,” he said. Tim could see groups of kids on the grassy lawns between the buildings and saw a playground with mostly little kids playing on swings and monkey bars. None of them looked very excited, but they sure had nice clothes.

  Tim’s dad finally pulled the car up in front of one of the apartment buildings and stopped. Aunt Linda and Roxy came out of the entrance of the building, waving and smiling.

  “I missed you so much,” Roxy said, giving Tim a big hug. “We’re going to have a lot of fun.”

  “Doing what?” Tim asked.

  “Meeting my friends,” she said.

  She took Tim’s hand and pulled him into her apartment. The first order of business was giving the visitors food and drink. Then Tim went with Roxy to her room and they listened to some of her growing record collection—it was filled with music from the hottest rock-and-roll bands. One of bands was called “The Beatles” and they were from England. Tim didn’t know beetles could sing and play guitar.

  “Want to dance?” Roxy asked.

  “Dance?” Tim asked.

  The scared look on Tim’s face must have given Roxy a clue that her cousin was drifting alone in an alien world, very much in need of help. “Never mind,” she said, realizing Tim felt out of place. “Hey! I need you to help me with something. Come on.”

  Roxy grabbed Tim’s hand again and pulled him out of the apartment and into the courtyard. Tim was very uncomfortable with Roxy’s actions, as he was always the one in charge whenever Roxy came to visit him on the farm.

  “See those three boys over there?” she asked, pointing.

  “Yeah.”

  “The tall one is always picking on me. Can you make him stop?”

  Tim instantly felt better knowing that Roxy needed him. “No problem,” he said.

  * * *

  Roxy had complete faith in Tim’s ability to defend her—he had protected her from 1,000-pound cattle, stray dogs, collapsing hay forts and electric fences. Tim had also been defending himself from bigger kids on the bus ride home from school almost daily for years. He could wrestle with the best of them. Farm kids didn’t fight with their fists, because they needed to keep their hands healthy to do chores. Trying to grip a shovel to move manure with banged-up knuckles was no fun at all. So they wrestled instead. That was the unspoken rule when farm boys fought.

  As Tim approached the group, he thought about what he was going to say to the tall boy. It’ll be okay. How tough could city kids be, anyway? He also thought about how to take him down with his favorite wrestling move.

  But Roxy was not one to leave things to chance. She sprinted past Tim and went up to the tall boy, punched him, and then took off running again. The stunned boy went after Roxy, but stopped when Tim stepped in front of him. “Leave her alone!” Tim said.

  Pow! Tim was flat on his back, nose bleeding, dazed, wondering what had hit him. Then the tall boy jumped on top of him, clenching his fist for another blow. Tim was too stunned to do anything, but Roxy was not about to leave Tim defenseless. She ran up behind the stooped-over boy and planted a vicious kick to his private area. The boy flew over Tim’s head, landing on the ground with a thud. He was screaming in pain.

  “Hey! What’s going on down there?” Aunt Linda yelled from a second-story window. Seeing Tim and the tall boy lying on the ground, she yelled, “Don’t move! We’re coming right down!”

  Not wanting to get into a confrontation with the adult, the tall boy’s two friends quickly helped their buddy up and hauled him away. Tim did as he was told, which was okay with him. He was still confused as to what had just happened and was trying to figure things out.

  When Mrs. Slinger made it outside, she saw Tim was still on the ground. She helped her son to his feet then stuffed a hanky into his nose. They headed back to the apartment, with Aunt Linda and Roxy trailing behind.

  Tim sat down in the kitchen. Aunt Linda pulled out the bloody hanky and dabbed his blood-covered nose with a clean cloth. “Why did you mess with him?” she asked Tim. “He’s on the boxing team.”

  Tim turned and stared at Roxy.

  “Sorry, I thought you could beat him,” Roxy said. “I know you’re stronger.”

  “Are you going to be okay, Tim?” Mom asked.

  “Yeah. At least I won,” Tim said.

  “How do you figure that?” Aunt Linda asked.

  “I got beat up by a professional boxer. He got beat up by a little girl,” he said, pointing at Roxy. “So I win.”

  Roxy and Mrs. Slinger laughed, but Aunt Linda didn’t. She continued wiping the blood from Tim’s face. “You’ve got a lot to learn about city life,” Aunt Linda said to him.

  Tim watched as his aunt gave his mother a questioning look. “But we’re only staying a few days,” he told his aunt.

  “That’s right. And not every place is like Chicago,” Tim’s mom said.

  Dana and Roxy’s brother—Tommy—walked into the kitchen. They pushed their way in front of Aunt Linda and stared at Tim’s swollen nose. “Whoa, I like Chicago!” Dana exclaimed.

  Tim slumped in his chair then let out a sigh. “I wanna go home.”

  “Can I come?” Roxy asked.

  Aunt Linda stared at Roxy. “Why?” she asked.

  “You said we have to go back and get the rest of our things before school starts. I’ll go with Tim now and come back with you later.”

  “You mean stay with Grandma?” Mrs. Slinger asked.

  “No, stay on the farm with you.”

  “Really?” Tim asked.

  Aunt Linda gave Tim’s mom another questioning look.

  “She can stay in the spare room,” Mrs. Slinger said. “We can take her to Grandma’s if she changes her mind.”

  Tim and Roxy gave each other a high-five. “Yes!” they said together.

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  Chapter 12

  The long ride home was much more enjoyable with Roxy in the car. She chattered endlessly, and the three kids played travel games and exchanged stories about summer adventures. But Tim was a little concerned about her spending an entire week on the farm.

  Roxy wasn’t used to farm life. Usually, his cousin visited for a few hours during the day, but she had never spent the night. And Tim knew Roxy had an especially difficult time with certain animals.

  “Are you going to go out into the fields with us?” Tim asked Roxy.

  Roxy gave him an arrogant little smirk. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Ah, no reason. But if you do, we need to talk about animal safety first,” Tim said.

  “Good idea,” Mom said from the front seat.

  “Give me a break. I’m not going to hurt any of your animals,” Roxy said.

  “That’s not what I’m worried about,” Tim said.

  Roxy stared at Tim, who now wore a serious look on his face. “You mean they might hurt me?”

  “Maybe. We have all kinds of animals around our farm. Some are pretty friendly, some are ugly and most are harmless. But there are a few we stay as far away from as we can,” Tim said.

  “Like stray dogs,” Dana said.

  “And skunks,” Tim said.

  “And rats,” Mr. Slinger, who was driving, said.

  Roxy’s eyes opened wide as she leaned forward in her seat to talk with her uncle. “Rats! You have rats on your farm?” she asked Mr. Slinger. All he could do was smile and nod his head “yes.”

  “Don’t worry, Roxy. Dad says we have rats, but I’ve never seen one. Just field mice,” Tim said.

  “The rats hide under the barn,” Dad said, continuing his warning. “They don’t come out during the day. They prefer to come out at night.” Mom gave her husband a little swat on the arm for teasing his niece.

  Roxy shook her head then took a deep breath as she sat back in her seat. “Rats, stray dogs, skunks—anything else I should watch for? Like vampires? Maybe they come out at night with
the rats,” Roxy said.

  “There are bats. Is that close enough to vampires?” Dana asked. Roxy made a face at her.

  “Just keep it simple. If Tim says ‘run,’ you run. And fast. No questions asked,” Mr. Slinger said.

  “Great. I’m spending a week in Wild Kingdom!” Roxy said.

  Tim figured he should stop talking before Roxy changed her mind about staying with them. But there was one more animal he had to bring up. “So, how do you feel about snakes, Roxy?” he asked.

  “Oh, my God!” Roxy said. She then closed her eyes and slid down into her seat.

  Tim decided that it wasn’t a good time to warn Roxy about the blue racer. While most people have never heard of the snake, it can be one of the scariest animals on a farm. Found in the upper Midwest, the snake is black, not blue. It isn’t poisonous, but it does have sharp teeth and will bite. And if it’s a really big blue racer—some can grow as long as five feet—its bite can put a child in the hospital.

  The snake is an especially intimidating creature to run across in the wild. It normally cruises through pastures with its head sticking up above the grass like a periscope. But despite its racy name, a blue racer is easy to outrun, considering it doesn’t care to chase anything that is too big to eat.

  Like many reptiles, blue racers hang around rock piles at night through the early morning to absorb the heat stored in the piles. Farms always have rock piles and usually more than one. The main rock pile on the Slinger’s farm was located near a huge pear tree at the back of the hay field.

  The morning after Roxy arrived, it was made clear to Tim that he wasn’t going to be able to skip chores for a week just because he had company. His mom walked into the kitchen and set a large wooden basket on the table.

  “We need some fresh fruit,” she said to the three kids.

  “Let’s get some pears,” Dana said.

  “I meant apples for a pie,” Mom said.

  Roxy frowned as she picked up the basket. “I love pears.”

  “They’re perfect right now,” Tim said to his mom.

  “Okay, pick some pears first then get the apples,” Mom said.

  Roxy, Tim and Dana strolled through the knee-high alfalfa field toward the pear tree. They took their time, swatting at bugs and stopping to look at butterflies. When they reached the tree, they could see the green lumps of fruit hanging from the branches—most of the pears were out of their reach.

  “Pears are supposed to be yellow,” Roxy said.

  Tim studied the branches looking for the best ones. “They’re better green.” Actually, Tim didn’t know if yellow pears tasted better because he had never eaten one. Fruit rarely survived long enough on the farm to become ripe.

  Because the bigger pears were so high up in the tree, they decided that one of them would climb up onto the rock pile to reach the fruit.

  “I’ll go. You hold the basket and be the lookout,” Tim said to Dana. Since she wasn’t tall enough to reach anything, Dana agreed. But Roxy followed Tim up the rock pile without giving a second thought as to why they needed a lookout.

  Just as Tim reached up for the first pear, Dana yelled, “Blue racer!” She took off running. Tim scrambled off the rock pile and quickly caught up to her, leaving Roxy standing on the rock pile, alone and confused. Suddenly realizing she might also be in danger, Roxy took off after them.

  “Where are you going?!” Roxy called, trying to catch up to her cousins.

  “Blue racer!” Dana yelled again.

  Dana and Tim stopped, figuring they were far enough away from the rock pile to be safe. They knew a blue racer wouldn’t chase them unless it thought they were attacking it.

  Roxy finally reached them and was out of breath. “What . . . kind of game . . . is ‘blue racer’?” she asked between gasps.

  “It’s not a game. It’s a thing,” Tim said.

  “What . . . thing?” she asked.

  Dana pointed toward a black head with beady eyes moving swiftly through the grass in front of the rock pile. “That thing! Run!”

  Roxy screamed and took off running for the barn faster than Tim had ever seen her run. The snake must have been startled by Roxy’s scream because it took off in the opposite direction.

  “Where’s she going?” Dana asked.

  “To tell Mom she saw a blue racer, I guess.”

  “What’s so special about that?” Dana asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe she never saw one before. Looks like it’s gone now. Want a pear?”

  “Yeah!” Dana said. Tim and Dana walked back to the tree to fill the basket with the biggest pears they could reach.

  By the time Tim and Dana got back to the house with the pears, Roxy was in the kitchen, emptying a basket of red apples into a large pan.

  “Where’s Mom?” Tim asked.

  “I don’t know. She wasn’t around, so I went out in the backyard and picked the apples she wanted,” Roxy said.

  Tim set the basket of pears on the table next to the pan full of apples. He was a little concerned that Roxy was being too quiet. “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Roxy set the empty apple basket on the floor, stood up, brushed her hair back with one hand and looked at Tim. “Yes. Now we’re even.”

  Tim stared at her for a moment, a little confused. “What’d you mean?”

  “I got you beat up. You left me alone with a killer snake,” Roxy said.

  Wanting to apologize, Tim picked out the biggest pear he could find in the basket and held it out to Roxy. “Want this one?”

  Roxy took it then smiled. “Sure. I never tried a green one before.”

  Just then, Mr. Slinger stuck his head inside the back door. “Milking time,” he said.

  “Want to help me with my chores in the barn?” Tim asked Roxy.

  “Doing what?” Roxy asked.

  “He’s a Poop Slinger,” Dana said.

  “Shut up, Dee-Dee.”

  “I think I’ll pass. I’ve had enough excitement for one day,” Roxy said.

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  Chapter 13

  Roxy stuck it out on the Slinger farm for the entire week, even helping by doing her own chores—some which Mrs. Slinger had assigned her—much to Tim’s surprise.

  Tim was sad to see Roxy go back to Chicago, but didn’t have time to become too lonely. It was September and school was starting in a few days. Plus, it was the busiest time of the year on the farm since harvest season was in full swing. For the next month, Tim would be getting up early to help with the milking, going to school, coming home, changing clothes and either helping unload wagons of hay or cleaning up after the evening milking. Harvest made for a long day, and chores lasted nearly until bedtime. Then Tim would have to get up early and begin the same routine all over again until the harvest ended.

  Believe it or not, starting school each year was always exciting for Tim. Christmas and the start of school were the only two times of the year Tim got brand new clothes. Plus, starting school meant he would see his school friends for the first time since May—if he survived the 30-minute bus ride.

  “Bus is here!” Tim heard his mom call on Monday morning, the first day of school.

  Tim dropped his spoon into his empty cereal bowl and ran out the back door. There sat the large, dusty, yellow vehicle in his driveway. Dana was already in her assigned seat.

  “Good morning, Mr. Horner,” Tim said to the bus driver as he boarded.

  “Hi, Tim. Are you going to be late every morning this year?” Mr. Horner asked.

  Everyone in the bus laughed as Tim made his way down the aisle. The Slinger farm was the last pickup on the route, which made finding a “friendly seat” a challenge. The bus was full of farm kids, ranging in age from kindergarteners to high school seniors. The youngest kids, those in kindergarten through fourth grade, had to sit in the first five rows. After that, it was every kid for himself. Since Tim was entering fifth grade, this was his first year to pick out his own seat.

  Tim wa
lked past Dana and she stuck her tongue out at him. He spotted an empty seat in the sixth row, right next to an older girl. He sat down.

  “Hey, Slinger, who said you could sit next to my girl?” one of the high school boys in the row behind him said.

  Tim stared straight ahead, ignoring the teenager. The next thing Tim knew, he was lifted out of his seat and passed row to row to the back of the bus. Of course, everyone burst out laughing again. They finally put him down in the last row, right next to one of his classmates.

  “The same thing just happened to me,” Rick said.

  “Ugh! I think they left that seat open to trick us,” Tim said.

  “Yeah. It’s going to be a long year.”

  “Maybe not. Did I ever tell you about breaking my nose on the barn steps when I was four?” Tim asked his friend.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” Rick asked.

  “The least little bump now and it’ll bleed like crazy. Watch.” Tim slapped the side of his nose with the palm of his hand and a stream of blood instantly appeared, running down his lips and chin. He quickly rubbed it around then took his hand away revealing his blood-smeared face. Tim shouted to the bus driver, “Help me! He hit me!”

  Several girls screamed and Mr. Horner slammed on the brakes, got out of his seat and headed to the back of the bus to see what was going on.

  “I didn’t touch him!” the biggest boy said, but Mr. Horner ignored him. He was more concerned about Tim. He studied Tim’s nose for a moment then pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and started wiping the blood away.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah, just a nosebleed. I need a tissue.”

  “Come up front.”

  Tim glanced at his friend and winked. “I want Rick to come with me,” he said to Mr. Horner.

  “Fine. Mary, come back here,” Mr. Horner said to the girl in row six, the one the teenagers had used as bait for their prank.