soiled it. It won’t be fit for my kittens and they’re coming any time now, I feel it!”
Git nosed an airhole and stuck her tongue out, trying to give Chessie a comforting lick.
“What’s all the commotion?” the man said, entering with a number of bewildering things in his hands. “Who the frag are you?” he asked Git.
“She’s mine, Dad,” a younger male voice piped up from behind him. “She’s my new barn cat. She knew I wanted a kitten and shebrought me a belly full of them.” He rushed forward, putting himself between his father and the cage so that his legs blocked Chessie’s view. “Lookit there! Lookit what she caught already. She’s a good cat and a pretty cat—good as that one you got. Take that one back. We don’t need her.”
“Okay, calm down, son. You can keep the barn cat out here. But I brought this fine lady cat here so you can have your pick of her litter for your house pet.”
“How about the others? What are you going to do? Gruder’s dad killed his cat’s kittens and Cellie’s mom sold some to a lab. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Dad?”
“Calm down, son. It’s okay. This cat here is a special kind. She’s very valuable and her kittens are too. We can make enough from selling them—no, no, not to a lab, to good homes that will pay a lot of money for the privilege of having them—to fix up the house and hire a hand to help with the stock so you can concentrate on your schooling. You’re just like your mama. You worry too much.”
“Okay,” the boy said. “You’re not connin’ me, are you, Dad?” His voice implied that whatever connin’ was, it was something his dad did often.
“Son, trust me. I got this cat so you could pick out your own kitten, like I said. Once we sell all the kittens but yours, we’ll be able to make something out of this place.”
“And how about the other cat’s kittens? Can I keep them too?”
“How about picking up that board over there and helping me build up that stall into a little room for the mama cat to have her babies in where nothing will disturb them? I don’t want anything to damage those little gems.”
“What’s that thing?” the boy asked, pointing to the little machine the man had brought with him to the barn.
“Something else we need to do to protect our investment, son. I’m going to install it right above the barn door, and that will keep anybody from bothering the mother of your future kitten.”
Jubal suppressed his excitement about the kitties all through supper. Mom had made egg pie, which he had come to love in recent months. Something had improved the flavor tremendously and the shiny bits in it looked very appetizing. He hated to think about it, because it was kind of gross, but he suspected it was because the chickens had been pecking up those shiny beetles that infested the barnyard. Like the beetles, the eggshells were shiny, sparkling like they’d been coated in sugar sprinkles. He’d actually been saving the shells because they were so pretty.
But much as he loved everything made with eggs, Jubal was too anxious to get back to the kittens to eat much that night. When he muttered, “’Scuse me,” and started to leave the table, his mom asked him where he thought he was going in a tone that said no matter what he answered, she probably wasn’t going to like it.
“To do my chores, Mom,” Jubal said with wide-eyed earnestness. “I want to get them all done before I start my homework.”
“Right, and I’m Maid bloody Marian. You doing your chores before you even check to see if there’s dessert, that doesn’t fly, my lad. What’s the use of having the biggest liar on Sherwood for a daddy if you can’t fib any better than that?”
Pop looked up from a forkful of his second helping of the pie. “Leave him be, Dorice. He’s just going to check on the livestock.”
They hadn’t told mom about the cats yet. They’d have to sooner or later but hoped to stall as long as
Git nosed an airhole and stuck her tongue out, trying to give Chessie a comforting lick.
“What’s all the commotion?” the man said, entering with a number of bewildering things in his hands. “Who the frag are you?” he asked Git.
“She’s mine, Dad,” a younger male voice piped up from behind him. “She’s my new barn cat. She knew I wanted a kitten and shebrought me a belly full of them.” He rushed forward, putting himself between his father and the cage so that his legs blocked Chessie’s view. “Lookit there! Lookit what she caught already. She’s a good cat and a pretty cat—good as that one you got. Take that one back. We don’t need her.”
“Okay, calm down, son. You can keep the barn cat out here. But I brought this fine lady cat here so you can have your pick of her litter for your house pet.”
“How about the others? What are you going to do? Gruder’s dad killed his cat’s kittens and Cellie’s mom sold some to a lab. You wouldn’t do that, would you, Dad?”
“Calm down, son. It’s okay. This cat here is a special kind. She’s very valuable and her kittens are too. We can make enough from selling them—no, no, not to a lab, to good homes that will pay a lot of money for the privilege of having them—to fix up the house and hire a hand to help with the stock so you can concentrate on your schooling. You’re just like your mama. You worry too much.”
“Okay,” the boy said. “You’re not connin’ me, are you, Dad?” His voice implied that whatever connin’ was, it was something his dad did often.
“Son, trust me. I got this cat so you could pick out your own kitten, like I said. Once we sell all the kittens but yours, we’ll be able to make something out of this place.”
“And how about the other cat’s kittens? Can I keep them too?”
“How about picking up that board over there and helping me build up that stall into a little room for the mama cat to have her babies in where nothing will disturb them? I don’t want anything to damage those little gems.”
“What’s that thing?” the boy asked, pointing to the little machine the man had brought with him to the barn.
“Something else we need to do to protect our investment, son. I’m going to install it right above the barn door, and that will keep anybody from bothering the mother of your future kitten.”
Jubal suppressed his excitement about the kitties all through supper. Mom had made egg pie, which he had come to love in recent months. Something had improved the flavor tremendously and the shiny bits in it looked very appetizing. He hated to think about it, because it was kind of gross, but he suspected it was because the chickens had been pecking up those shiny beetles that infested the barnyard. Like the beetles, the eggshells were shiny, sparkling like they’d been coated in sugar sprinkles. He’d actually been saving the shells because they were so pretty.
But much as he loved everything made with eggs, Jubal was too anxious to get back to the kittens to eat much that night. When he muttered, “’Scuse me,” and started to leave the table, his mom asked him where he thought he was going in a tone that said no matter what he answered, she probably wasn’t going to like it.
“To do my chores, Mom,” Jubal said with wide-eyed earnestness. “I want to get them all done before I start my homework.”
“Right, and I’m Maid bloody Marian. You doing your chores before you even check to see if there’s dessert, that doesn’t fly, my lad. What’s the use of having the biggest liar on Sherwood for a daddy if you can’t fib any better than that?”
Pop looked up from a forkful of his second helping of the pie. “Leave him be, Dorice. He’s just going to check on the livestock.”
They hadn’t told mom about the cats yet. They’d have to sooner or later but hoped to stall as long as
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