Read Online Little Joe by Sandra Neil Wallace - Free Book Online Page A

said.
    Eli handed him the bucket.
    “Careful backing up, Chet.” Grandpa spoke louder than Eli’d been used to. “Those Silverados haven’t been the same since that recall.”
    Eli hopped in the truck and Pa backed up. The rainsounded tinny bouncing off the hood. Beyond it, Eli tried to focus on Grandpa, but Pa’d switched the wipers to high. Eli could only see him in flashes, dipping in and out of the windshield.
    Pa U-turned it home and Eli swung near him. Through the rearview mirror he saw Grandpa just standing there, holding both buckets and grinning.

Chapter Eight
Missing Mama

    All kinds of birds Eli’d forgotten about warbled and cooed outside the barn. They made nests in the river maples that were so thick with buds, it was as if winter never happened. A cluster of downy chicks snuck out of the barn chasing cottony strands of willow dander. Even drowsy flies buzzed to life, pesking around Little Joe’s ears. He stood tied up beside Fancy, filled out and high as her chin and past Eli’s shoulders.
    It was still early. The peepers made noise in the swollen creek nearby. Eli knew they must be the little eggs he’d seen with Grandpa all hatched and swimming in the water.
    “Their mamas lay eggs just like jelly beans,” Eli said, feeding Little Joe an apple slice. “And they don’t take longto hatch. Not nine months like you, Fancy. It only takes a couple weeks.” Eli gave her a slice, too.
    “Everything in nature’s being born around here!” Grandpa’s eyes lit up as he entered the barn. “Peepers, chicks, flies.” He swatted at one, then looked at Fancy and Little Joe. “But it don’t come without heartache.”
    Eli wondered whose heart Grandpa was talking about. Probably Little Joe’s and Fancy’s, since it was time for Little Joe to be weaned and put on pasture grass instead of milk.
    Shades of green had taken over the brown patches dotting the fields. Clumps of young clover grew green as snap peas above the hill between the alfalfa. And pale olive rods of timothy stood nearly a foot high below, their tips blushing pink like ripened peaches.
    “Out in Wyoming they let nature take care of the separation,” Grandpa explained. “The ma drops another calf and her other baby—a yearling, oh, about seven months older than Little Joe—gets nudged away. Not with your pa.”
    “Don’t have time to wait a year in this business,” Pa said. He came into the barn carrying a lead strap with chains bigger than Eli’d seen before. “Costs too much. Need to get him on pasture and feed so he’ll fatten out for the fair.”
    “Did you see, Pa?” Eli said. “I got them both haltered and tied up and they’re not making a peep.”
    “Sure looks like he’s ready to be weaned.” Pa smiled. “Good thing you got him used to them apples. He won’t miss the milk one bit.”
    “Need any help weaning, Chet?” Grandpa asked. “First-time mothers’ll do anything to get to their calf.”
    “We’ll be fine.” Pa put the lead strap on a bale of hay. “Me and Eli can take care of things.”
    “Are we weaning today, Pa?” Eli asked.
    “Right after I check the fence lines to see if they’ll hold.”
    Grandpa came into the pen and stroked Fancy. “Make sure she gets bred soon, Chet. She’s gonna need another baby to fuss over.”
    “Is Fancy gonna have another calf, Pa?” Eli asked.
    “Maybe.” Pa took out the pliers from his coat pocket. “Be ready to take ’em out when I get back, Eli.”
    Grandpa looked down at Little Joe. He eyed the bull calf in such a sad way, Eli got worried.
    “Little Joe’s gonna need all the attention he can get, Eli,” Grandpa said. “Once he gets taken from Fancy, he’ll bawl something awful. Probably the whole night through. And then some.”
    “Milkers don’t do that.” Eli rubbed at a patch where Little Joe’s winter coat was still shedding. He’d seen milkers get weaned before. Even a heifer taken from its mother a day after birth. She got the bottle