Read Online Growing Up Country: Memories of an Iowa Farm Girl by Carol Bodensteiner - Free Book Online
Authors: Carol Bodensteiner
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said, looking at Mom who nodded.
“We’ve got it all. Go on.” She was already heading toward the table in search of Edna’s wheat bread.
I raced off after Doug. A year younger than I, Doug ran everywhere and though I seldom beat him, I never stopped trying.
The churchyard was swarming with kids and we all knew each other well. We went to church so often, all these kids were almost like brothers and sisters. The other parents were just like so many added sets of parents. And none of those adults hesitated to set us back in line if we stepped off track—particularly when it came to running or yelling in the sanctuary.
While we’d been carrying things inside, Dad had arrived. I didn’t see Dad anywhere, but I headed to the pickup, with Doug in tow. “Come see our calf,” I urged. “It’s a heifer. I helped Dad get her ready.”
We scrambled up on the truck bumper and clung to the panels, looking down into the truck bed.
“Nice calf,” Doug agreed.
I nodded, but I was confused. This was not the calf I helped Dad load up. That calf was mostly white. This calf was mostly black. In addition, this calf wore a halter and was tied on a short rope. I looked around for Dad but didn’t see him anywhere.
“Let’s go,” Doug jumped down from the truck and ran toward the church. “It’s time to eat.”
I looked at the calf again. Why would Dad bring a different calf from the one we loaded?
“Come on,” Doug shouted.
Jumping down, I tore off after Doug. Dinner was most important. I would ask Dad about the calf later.
With a full stomach, including a Blarney Stone and a slice of banana cream pie, I wandered out of the church basement and into a yard full of cars and people milling around, checking out the auction goods. I spotted Dad standing in the shade of a pine tree, smoking a cigarette, talking with some men. As I walked up, I overheard him say, If I’d tied her down, it wouldn’t have happened. When Dad saw me, he stopped talking, dropped the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his toe.
I tugged on his sleeve. “Dad.”
“What?”
“Our calf. Doug and I looked in the truck. It’s not the same one we loaded this morning.”
Dad looked at the other men.
“How’s your corn looking?” one of them said as he dropped back a step.
“Good,” the other replied. “We’ll be picking soon,” They faded away leaving Dad with me.
“It’s not the same calf,” I repeated.
Dad looked at me for quiet seconds and in those seconds a little chill ran up my back.
“No. No, it’s not the same calf.”
“Well, where is she?”
“I had to get another calf.”
“But, why? You said the one we had was one of the best.”
“She was.” Dad crouched down on his heels and looked me straight in the eyes. “On the way in, she tried to jump out of the truck.” Dad hesitated. “When she tried to jump out, she fell and broke her leg.”
My stomach went hollow. “Will she be all right? Where is she? Can I see her?”
“No, Squirt. I had to put her down.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I felt my throat clench and my face go red as I struggled against crying. It was not as though this calf was more special to me than any other calf. But I had helped get her ready. And she was the best.
Dad put his hand on my shoulder and the warmth sank into my skin. The tension drained out of my face.
“Let’s go now,” he said. “We don’t want to miss the bidding. Shorty told me he’s going to start with that stray dog.”
Dad did not linger on the calf he lost nor would he let me. Together, we walked over to the hayrack where someone lifted up a puppy that looked as though its parents included Beagles, German Shepherds, a Collie and any range of mutts. It was very cute.
“We’re going to start the auction with this little puppy,” Shorty called out to the crowd. “She needs a good home and we hope to find her one. Who’ll start the bidding at a dollar?” Someone raised a hand. “ All
“We’ve got it all. Go on.” She was already heading toward the table in search of Edna’s wheat bread.
I raced off after Doug. A year younger than I, Doug ran everywhere and though I seldom beat him, I never stopped trying.
The churchyard was swarming with kids and we all knew each other well. We went to church so often, all these kids were almost like brothers and sisters. The other parents were just like so many added sets of parents. And none of those adults hesitated to set us back in line if we stepped off track—particularly when it came to running or yelling in the sanctuary.
While we’d been carrying things inside, Dad had arrived. I didn’t see Dad anywhere, but I headed to the pickup, with Doug in tow. “Come see our calf,” I urged. “It’s a heifer. I helped Dad get her ready.”
We scrambled up on the truck bumper and clung to the panels, looking down into the truck bed.
“Nice calf,” Doug agreed.
I nodded, but I was confused. This was not the calf I helped Dad load up. That calf was mostly white. This calf was mostly black. In addition, this calf wore a halter and was tied on a short rope. I looked around for Dad but didn’t see him anywhere.
“Let’s go,” Doug jumped down from the truck and ran toward the church. “It’s time to eat.”
I looked at the calf again. Why would Dad bring a different calf from the one we loaded?
“Come on,” Doug shouted.
Jumping down, I tore off after Doug. Dinner was most important. I would ask Dad about the calf later.
With a full stomach, including a Blarney Stone and a slice of banana cream pie, I wandered out of the church basement and into a yard full of cars and people milling around, checking out the auction goods. I spotted Dad standing in the shade of a pine tree, smoking a cigarette, talking with some men. As I walked up, I overheard him say, If I’d tied her down, it wouldn’t have happened. When Dad saw me, he stopped talking, dropped the cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out with his toe.
I tugged on his sleeve. “Dad.”
“What?”
“Our calf. Doug and I looked in the truck. It’s not the same one we loaded this morning.”
Dad looked at the other men.
“How’s your corn looking?” one of them said as he dropped back a step.
“Good,” the other replied. “We’ll be picking soon,” They faded away leaving Dad with me.
“It’s not the same calf,” I repeated.
Dad looked at me for quiet seconds and in those seconds a little chill ran up my back.
“No. No, it’s not the same calf.”
“Well, where is she?”
“I had to get another calf.”
“But, why? You said the one we had was one of the best.”
“She was.” Dad crouched down on his heels and looked me straight in the eyes. “On the way in, she tried to jump out of the truck.” Dad hesitated. “When she tried to jump out, she fell and broke her leg.”
My stomach went hollow. “Will she be all right? Where is she? Can I see her?”
“No, Squirt. I had to put her down.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I felt my throat clench and my face go red as I struggled against crying. It was not as though this calf was more special to me than any other calf. But I had helped get her ready. And she was the best.
Dad put his hand on my shoulder and the warmth sank into my skin. The tension drained out of my face.
“Let’s go now,” he said. “We don’t want to miss the bidding. Shorty told me he’s going to start with that stray dog.”
Dad did not linger on the calf he lost nor would he let me. Together, we walked over to the hayrack where someone lifted up a puppy that looked as though its parents included Beagles, German Shepherds, a Collie and any range of mutts. It was very cute.
“We’re going to start the auction with this little puppy,” Shorty called out to the crowd. “She needs a good home and we hope to find her one. Who’ll start the bidding at a dollar?” Someone raised a hand. “ All
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