The Cow-Pie Chronicles

by James L. Butler

  “Little brat,” Mary said to Tim as she slipped past him.

  Mr. Horner retrieved the first aid kit and gave Tim a tissue for his nose. Then he asked Tim in a hushed voice, “How many times do you think that trick is going to work before somebody catches on?”

  “This time is the only one I care about,” Tim said.

  “Good luck,” Mr. Horner said, returning to his driver’s seat.

  Finding a seat was not a problem for Tim and Rick for the rest of that week, as row six was mysteriously left open for them every day.

  * * *

  Going to school was a nice break from chores. But the harvest made up for any rest school provided. Harvesting the crops was hard work. Fortunately, the harvest was ahead of schedule and life was good, until Thursday afternoon.

  “Tim, please go to the principal’s office after school,” his teacher said.

  “What’d I do wrong?”

  “Nothing. Your grandmother is picking you up after school.”

  Tim was excited at first, but his excitement soon gave way to reality. There had to be something seriously wrong at home if he wasn’t going there during the harvest season. He stared at the clock on the wall—the 30 minutes left in the school day passed like molasses.

  Finally, the bell rang and Tim headed out the door. Dana was already in the office with their grandmother when he got there—her eyes were red and puffy like she had been crying. “Mom’s in the hospital,” she told Tim.

  Tim’s heart raced as he feared the worst. “What’s wrong? An accident?”

  “No, she was out on the tractor baling hay and had severe pains in her tummy. They were afraid something was wrong with the baby, so they took her to the hospital,” Grandma said.

  “Is she going to be okay?” Dana asked.

  “Yes, thank heavens. She has some torn muscles around her tummy, but everything will be fine as long as she rests and takes it easy until the baby is born.”

  Tim let out the breath he was holding in. “You mean she can’t work in the fields anymore,” he said.

  “She can’t work on that farm anymore, period. Now, bring your things out to the car. You’re spending the night with me.”

  It was a short ride to Grandma’s house. Tim looked at Dana, who was sitting in the back seat next to him and quietly staring straight ahead.

  “How will we get the harvest done and the milking, too?” Tim asked his grandma. “Dad can’t do it all.”

  “Uncle Jack is going to help on weekends until the harvest is done. Your mom and dad will talk to you about the rest of it.”

  Dana looked at Tim. She had tears in her eyes.

  “When will Mom be home? When can we see her?” Dana asked.

  “Tomorrow, after school. I’ll take you to school in the morning then you can ride the bus home, like you usually do,” Grandma said.

  Their grandma turned into her driveway and parked the car next to the side door. “Go put your things upstairs and get ready for supper,” she said.

  Tim headed for the staircase without saying another word. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen when they got home, but he was pretty sure things would never be normal again.

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 14

  The next day after school, Tim and Dana sprinted to the house as soon as they got off the school bus. They were so concerned about their mom that they didn’t even say goodbye to Mr. Horner.

  Bursting through the back door, they found their mom sitting at the kitchen table, peeling potatoes for supper. They ran to her and each gave her a big hug.

  “Are you okay, Mom?” both kids asked at the same time.

  “Yes, yes. I’ll be fine. Sit down and I’ll get you a treat.”

  Mom walked slowly to the freezer as Dana and Tim took their usual seats at the table. They sensed bad news was coming.

  Mom returned, holding two Popsicles. “Who wants cherry and who wants grape?”

  “Grape,” Dana said.

  Grape was Tim’s favorite and Dana knew it, but Tim took the cherry Popsicle without complaining. Dana stared at him, confused because she expected him to whine. Mom sat down at the end of the table.

  “Grandma said you can’t work anymore,” Tim said.

  “Not until after the baby is born.”

  “How long is that?” Dana asked.

  “Middle of February. Uncle Jack will help us finish the harvest.”

  Tim’s melting, untouched Popsicle began to drip on his hand. He was afraid to ask the next question, but had to. “Then what?”

  His mom grabbed a dish towel and reached over to wipe Tim’s hand. “Then we sell the farm.”

  Tim and Dana sat still, waiting for her to say something different. But she did not. With sad eyes, Mom looked at her two children.

  “We’re going to move into town?” Dana finally asked.

  “Not right away. We can’t sell the land until spring, so we’re going to sell all the equipment and crops we just harvested at auction to keep us going until then.”

  “Sell everything in an auction? Can’t Dad hire somebody to help him like the neighbors do?” Tim asked.

  “We don’t make enough money to support ourselves as it is, especially with another mouth to feed and one less person doing the work.”

  “I can do the work,” Tim said.

  “This isn’t your future anymore, Tim,” Mom said. Then she spoke to both children. “Don’t worry about things right now. Keep doing your chores and we’ll work through it one step at a time as a family. Okay?”

  Tim turned his head to hide his tears. Dana sat quietly watching Tim, and then she started crying, too. They got up and walked slowly out of the kitchen and to their bedrooms to change clothes. It was time to do chores.

  Tim heard Dana sniffling. “What’re you crying for? Your dream came true—you get to move to town.”

  “But I didn’t want to sell our farm,” Dana said.

  “That’s stupid. How could we live in town and still have the farm?”

  Anger replaced her tears. “Mom never asked me how I would feel about selling our farm!” Dana said.

  “It’s too late now, isn’t it, Dee-Dee?” Tim said as he headed to his room.

  Dana clenched her fists and screamed at Tim’s back, “Poop Slinger!”

  Tim stopped and slowly looked back over his shoulder at his sister. Her face was red with rage as she glared at him. Tim suddenly had no desire to fight back. He hung his head for a moment then looked up at Dana. “Not for long,” he said.

  * * *

  Because Mom had to rest, Tim’s workload was brutal for the next month. Mr. Slinger showed Tim how to work the milking machines—that way, his son could do the milking and he could spend more time in the fields, getting the last acres of crops harvested before the auction date. Tim didn’t complain because he knew it was all going to end soon, much too soon for him.

  Mr. Slinger had taken Tim to a few farm auctions in recent years, and they were always a lot of fun. Since the auctions took place on someone’s farm, there was lots of activity. People interested in bidding inspected equipment, livestock, machinery and even harvested crops. And the food was always plentiful and great.

  What Tim didn’t realize when he had attended an auction with his dad was that the family holding the auction was losing their farm—that someone’s way of life was disappearing right before his very eyes. But this time, things were different. This time Tim knew exactly what an auction was all about. It wasn’t an end-of-the-year sale. It was a going-out-of-business sale and this time, it was the Slinger’s turn to be the host.

  The family spent the days leading up to the auction cleaning their farm equipment and parking the items where bidders could easily inspect everything. The night before the auction, they left the cows in the milking parlor after their evening milking so they would be clean and presentable the next morning. A truck stopped by and the driver unloaded long tables that would be used for holding food, doi
ng paperwork and other auction tasks.

  The next morning, the Slinger farm looked just like what Tim had seen at other auctions. There was a long table full of food for the taking, lots of people and a man—who was the auctioneer—on a platform yelling things to the bidders so fast that Tim didn’t understand a word he said. And there were the kids who rode the school bus with Dana and Tim—they came to the auction with their parents.

  Everything seemed to be going well until Tim heard a familiar bark. He pushed his way through the crowd until he could see the platform where the auctioneer was working. There the man stood with Bell, who was on a leash. Tim suddenly realized that fast-talking man was going to sell their dog!

  Tim ran through the crowd, shouting for his mom. He spotted Dana sitting at a table, munching on an ear of corn.

  “We have to find Mom!” Tim said. “They made a mistake. They’re selling our dog!”

  “Which one?” Dana asked. There were two dogs on the farm—Skipper and Bell—and Dana only cared for one of them.

  “Bell!” Tim said.

  Dana jumped up from the table, shouting, “No! They can’t sell Bell!”

  They ran into the house and found their mom making more lemonade.

  “They’re trying to sell Bell!” Tim said “You have to tell them it’s a mistake!”

  Mom stopped what she was doing and sat down.

  “It’s not a mistake,” she said. “We can’t take Bell with us when we move into town.”

  “But you said we’re not moving now!” Dana said.

  Mom reached out with one arm, put it around Dana’s waist and pulled her in close. “It would be a lot harder to sell Bell later.”

  “But she won’t even hunt! She’s gun-shy,” Tim said. “Is that man telling everybody that?”

  “Not so loud,” Mom said, afraid someone outside might hear Tim and no one would buy Bell. “That’s not important right now.”

  Dana started to sob. Bell was her favorite dog. “Why can’t Bell move with us?”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Mom said. “We won’t have room for two dogs. Skipper will still be with us, though.”

  Dana and Tim looked at each other, not knowing what to say. At that very moment, Tim finally knew what this day was all about—they had to get rid of everything that wouldn’t fit into their new life in town.

  Dana saw it a bit differently. “Mom, you’re going to have three kids. Is there enough room for all of us or do you need to sell one of us, too?”

  “Of course not!” Mom said. “I wouldn’t sell one of my children!”

  “What about one kid and two dogs?” Tim asked, giving Dana a dirty look.

  “That’s enough! Our lives are changing and you two are going to have to deal with it.”

  Mom stood up, picked up the pitcher of fresh lemonade and headed out the door. Tim went to his room and stayed there the rest of the day, not wanting to see anything else he had spent his entire life with disappear.

  * * *

  The next morning, Tim and Dana were quietly standing at the edge of the road when the school bus arrived.

  “You’re not late! What’s the special occasion?” Mr. Horner asked as Tim slowly climbed into the bus, with Dana following him.

  “Chores done early,” Tim said without looking up.

  “Done forever,” Dana said, following her brother onto the bus.

  “So I heard. Sorry,” Mr. Horner said.

  Tim and Dana took their seats. Everyone on the bus was quiet—it was as if a family member had died and no one knew what to say. The silent treatment lasted all day in school, too. Tim couldn’t wait to get out of there and back home.

  After school, Tim and Dana stepped off the bus and into a different world. It was quiet. No cows mooing, no tractor engine roaring. There wasn’t even any wind blowing.

  Tim took his things inside then went to the barn. He felt a little lost with no chores to do. Since the cows were gone, the barn was lifeless. The stray cats had already figured out the free milk was history and they, too, had disappeared. The milk cooler was empty and shut down. There were still a couple of rows of hay bales in the loft, but the tools that used to hang on the walls were gone. Even the junk piled up in the back of the toolshed had vanished. Who the heck would buy a pile of junk? Tim wondered.

  The strangest feeling came over Tim. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, and then it hit him. He was lonely.

  Tim went into the house where Dana was eating Jell-O at the kitchen table and his mom was washing dishes.

  “Want to come out and play with me?” Tim asked.

  Dana stared at Tim. “Play what?”

  “Anything you want. You decide.”

  Dana froze, her spoonful of Jell-O suspended halfway to her still-open mouth. Mom stopped washing dishes and turned to look at Tim, also.

  “What?” Tim asked

  Dana and her mom exchanged looks. Mom knew Tim was upset, so his offer to Dana to come out and play was not what she expected.

  Dana made a suggestion to her brother. “Rope swing?” she asked.

  “Okay, you go first.”

  Dana dropped her spoon and jumped up from the table, smiling.

  “Be careful. I wish your father had never put that thing up there,” Mom said to her children as they ran out the back door.

  Dana and Tim burst out laughing as they raced each other to the barn.

  Back to Table of Contents

  Chapter 15

  It didn’t take long for Tim to get used to not having hours of chores waiting for him every day. The farm quickly became a huge playground where he roamed at will, usually with Skipper, scouting likely hiding places for the upcoming hunting season. But he pretty much avoided the farm’s lifeless, empty buildings. With all the animals gone, it felt like they were playing inside coffins.

  While Dana and Tim tried to stay outside as much as possible, the weather was beginning to turn bad and there were days too cold, too wet or too something to go outside. That left the old, creaky farmhouse as their only refuge.

  A few weeks after the auction, as Tim and Dana rode home on the school bus, an early winter storm rolled in and covered the ground with sleet. It came down hard and pinged on the roof of the vehicle.

  When Mr. Horner turned the bus into the Slinger’s driveway, he asked Tim and Dana, “Want to wait until it lets up?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Tim said, jumping off the bus with Dana.

  They ran to the house, laughing all the way, bumping each other, slipping and sliding on the icy pellets. They headed straight for the kitchen, hoping to find something hot to drink waiting for them, but didn’t find anyone there.

  “Where’s Mom?” Dana asked.

  Tim spotted a note on the refrigerator from Mom. He read it out loud: “In town getting groceries in case we get snowed in.”

  “I’m guessing she’ll be home soon,” Tim said.

  “Do you think Dad will be home before the storm hits?” Dana asked.

  “I don’t know. I think he’s still out of town, driving a truck for the feed company.”

  “It’s cold in here,” Dana said, shivering. “I’m going to my room.”

  Tim ignored his sister. He dropped his books onto the kitchen table and headed for the basement to check on the furnace. He had to go out the back door, which was attached to the mudroom. A door at the back of the mudroom opened to creaky wooden stairs that went down into the cave-like darkness of the basement.

  Once he was at the bottom of the stairs, Tim flipped on the light switch and two small overhead light bulbs glowed, casting a dim and eerie light on the can-shaped furnace. On one side of the big furnace was a large, heavy metal door. The door faced a pile of black, jagged chunks of coal in the coal bin. A thin film of black coal dust covered everything in the underground world.

  To protect his hands from the heat of the furnace, Tim put on a pair of heavy gloves and pulled the large door open. A bed of glowing red embers, with a few small flames
popping up here and there, was all that was left of the fire that had been burning all day. Tim picked up a small shovel, loaded it with fresh chunks of coal and tossed the shovelful into the furnace. A spray of red, glowing sparks flew up then disappeared up the chimney. Since heat rises, it kept the rooms above it warm, and more importantly, it kept the Slinger family from freezing when it was cold outside.

  Tim tossed three more large shovelfuls into the furnace until the fired roared, like a monster. The heat spilled out the door and onto Tim’s face. The warmth felt good.

  * * *

  When Tim was warm enough to get rid of the chill in his bones, he shut the furnace door and headed back upstairs. He saw Dana sitting in her room.

  “Is that all you’re going to do—just sit—until Mom gets home?” he asked.

  “Yes. My room is the warmest room in the house,” she said.

  “Because it’s the smallest,” Tim said.

  Dana reached out and pushed her door shut. Tim knew she was right about her room being the warmest room in the house. The heat ducts from the old furnace only went to four rooms in the house—the kitchen and bathroom to keep the water pipes from freezing and the two first-floor bedrooms, one that was his parents’ room, and the other, Dana’s. Tim’s bedroom was on the second floor. It took five blankets to keep him warm when snowflakes blew in around his drafty window.

  The only way any heat made it to Tim’s room was through a large, round iron grate right in the middle of his bedroom floor. The grate was directly above his parents’ bedroom.

  Tim decided to inspect the grate to see if there was a way to get more warm air to come through it. That’s when he made a startling discovery—he could lift the iron grate right out of the hole in the floor!

  He set the grate next to his bed then got on his hands and knees, crawled to the edge of the hole and looked down. He was directly over his parents’ bed, which was roughly six feet below him. What an opportunity for some fun! Tim thought. I can drop to the first floor through the hole!