asked.
“Let’s get a rope around her horns with you behind her on one end and Carmen in front on the other, that way, if she gets the energy up to try and bolt you can control her to some extent. I’ll take the lettuce and see if I can induce her to walk down.”
“What should we do?” Cyril asked.
“Stay out of the way.”
There was a protest but Anna heard it only as murmuring, no more troubling to her than the sigh of the wind across the canyon rim or the purr of the river below. She, Paul and Carmen uncoiled the rope then recoiled it, half to Carmen and half to Paul. In the center, Anna fashioned a simple loop.
“You can hold the lettuce,” Carmen said kindly.
“Keepers of the Kale of the Sacred Kine,” Steve said.
“Give us some slack,” Anna told Carmen and, Paul leading, the loop in her hand and Carmen feeding out line from her half of the rope, they walked toward Easter. Horns that had looked stubby and sweet from a hundred yards were sharp and intimidating up close and on a narrow ledge with a three-hundred-foot drop to one side.
“Don’t even think about getting gored,” she said to her husband’s back.
“I am thinking about it. I am thinking about avoiding it at all costs. Don’t you even think about getting near the cow till I’ve got her head,” Paul said.
Anna said nothing.
“You’re thinking about it,” he said. “I can feel you thinking like cats running up and down my spine. Let me get her head.”
“Stay on the cliff side,” Anna said unnecessarily. Paul was a prudent man, not given to rash decisions. He approached Easter the way he did drunks and poachers and frat boys bent on killing each other, firmly and kindly and, above all, carefully.
This time the worry wasn’t warranted. The cow barely had the strength to roll her eyes in his direction as he sidled in between her and the cliff and grabbed hold of her horns. As Anna slipped the loop over them so Paul and Carmen would have a degree of control over the animal, Paul was not keeping the poor starved thing still so much as holding her head up for her.
The rope in place, Paul moved several yards up slope and gripped his end so, if needed, he could stop or slow the animal if it surged forward. Carmen closed the gap to ten or fifteen feet downhill from Anna and the cow so she could control it if it bucked back toward Paul.
Easter stood shaking, head hanging to her hooves, making no move to help or hinder their efforts. But for the occasional eye roll or weary twitch of her hide it seemed she hardly knew they were there.
“Okay,” Anna called to the twins. “I’ve got a job for you. Bring me the lure.”
“Lettuce sherpas,” Steve said. “For this our parents are paying full tuition at Princeton.”
Both of them came forward and they crowded a bit close for Anna’s liking but she said nothing. The danger from the cow seemed slight. “You want to lure her?” she asked Cyril.
“Could I?” Cyril sounded so young and so delighted that Anna laughed for the second time in less than an hour. Laughter was definitely medicinal.
“Just don’t let your guard down,” Anna said. “Be ready to get out of the way if you have to.”
“In case she unleashes her super cow powers,” her brother kidded her.
Anna and Steve put their backs against the cliff so, if the cow did decide to pursue the lettuce with more vigor than was safe, they’d be out of the way and in a position to snatch Cyril back from the edge.
Approaching slowly, Cyril held out the half-head and spoke in the sweet voice animal lovers are given in lieu of the greater gift with which fiction blessed Dr. Dolittle.
“Here she comes, what a good cow, coming to get the lettuce, there’s a good girl, you’re hungry, aren’t you, here she comes.”
Easter wasn’t coming. She wasn’t moving. Finally Cyril closed in and put the lettuce on her nose, nudged it into her lips. Still no response.
“Damn,” Anna said.
“Time for Plan B?” Steve
“Let’s get a rope around her horns with you behind her on one end and Carmen in front on the other, that way, if she gets the energy up to try and bolt you can control her to some extent. I’ll take the lettuce and see if I can induce her to walk down.”
“What should we do?” Cyril asked.
“Stay out of the way.”
There was a protest but Anna heard it only as murmuring, no more troubling to her than the sigh of the wind across the canyon rim or the purr of the river below. She, Paul and Carmen uncoiled the rope then recoiled it, half to Carmen and half to Paul. In the center, Anna fashioned a simple loop.
“You can hold the lettuce,” Carmen said kindly.
“Keepers of the Kale of the Sacred Kine,” Steve said.
“Give us some slack,” Anna told Carmen and, Paul leading, the loop in her hand and Carmen feeding out line from her half of the rope, they walked toward Easter. Horns that had looked stubby and sweet from a hundred yards were sharp and intimidating up close and on a narrow ledge with a three-hundred-foot drop to one side.
“Don’t even think about getting gored,” she said to her husband’s back.
“I am thinking about it. I am thinking about avoiding it at all costs. Don’t you even think about getting near the cow till I’ve got her head,” Paul said.
Anna said nothing.
“You’re thinking about it,” he said. “I can feel you thinking like cats running up and down my spine. Let me get her head.”
“Stay on the cliff side,” Anna said unnecessarily. Paul was a prudent man, not given to rash decisions. He approached Easter the way he did drunks and poachers and frat boys bent on killing each other, firmly and kindly and, above all, carefully.
This time the worry wasn’t warranted. The cow barely had the strength to roll her eyes in his direction as he sidled in between her and the cliff and grabbed hold of her horns. As Anna slipped the loop over them so Paul and Carmen would have a degree of control over the animal, Paul was not keeping the poor starved thing still so much as holding her head up for her.
The rope in place, Paul moved several yards up slope and gripped his end so, if needed, he could stop or slow the animal if it surged forward. Carmen closed the gap to ten or fifteen feet downhill from Anna and the cow so she could control it if it bucked back toward Paul.
Easter stood shaking, head hanging to her hooves, making no move to help or hinder their efforts. But for the occasional eye roll or weary twitch of her hide it seemed she hardly knew they were there.
“Okay,” Anna called to the twins. “I’ve got a job for you. Bring me the lure.”
“Lettuce sherpas,” Steve said. “For this our parents are paying full tuition at Princeton.”
Both of them came forward and they crowded a bit close for Anna’s liking but she said nothing. The danger from the cow seemed slight. “You want to lure her?” she asked Cyril.
“Could I?” Cyril sounded so young and so delighted that Anna laughed for the second time in less than an hour. Laughter was definitely medicinal.
“Just don’t let your guard down,” Anna said. “Be ready to get out of the way if you have to.”
“In case she unleashes her super cow powers,” her brother kidded her.
Anna and Steve put their backs against the cliff so, if the cow did decide to pursue the lettuce with more vigor than was safe, they’d be out of the way and in a position to snatch Cyril back from the edge.
Approaching slowly, Cyril held out the half-head and spoke in the sweet voice animal lovers are given in lieu of the greater gift with which fiction blessed Dr. Dolittle.
“Here she comes, what a good cow, coming to get the lettuce, there’s a good girl, you’re hungry, aren’t you, here she comes.”
Easter wasn’t coming. She wasn’t moving. Finally Cyril closed in and put the lettuce on her nose, nudged it into her lips. Still no response.
“Damn,” Anna said.
“Time for Plan B?” Steve
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