Read Online Mad Season by Nancy Means Wright - Free Book Online

of her fertile years, who only last week had dropped a sickly calf—maybe her last, who knew? They were all strong-minded in their own way; none of them would stand for this BST business: being pumped full of growth hormones, turned into objects that poured out the milk—up to 25 percent more, they claimed. And for what? To add to the surplus?
    It was harmless, the FDA said. Sure, harmless as synthetic hormones, chemical additives, pesticides. Harmless as arsenic.
    But she was getting stirred up again, just when she’d started to relax. It was worrisome enough having Vic miss the bus, Colm question her family—though she was glad to have his help in this, she was too busy to find out everything herself. And what had the police done? A dozen break-ins this past spring, and none of them solved. Not to mention the Charlebois fire. Who would have done something like that? Her neck got hot, imagining her own place on fire. It was unthinkable, that.
    Three more and she was done. Emily had prepped the cows; Tim would come in to do the milking. She wasn’t crazy about machine milking: she tended to overmilk, never got the thing off at the right moment. Maybe a dozen cows was enough, milk them by hand. But there was no money in that, she had to think of money.
    She glanced at her watch: 5:36. Vic should be home, even if he missed the bus. He’d call if he needed a ride. Through the stall window she saw Sharon coming toward the barn. “He was nice,” Sharon said as she entered. “He was nosy. He’s not bad looking. How come you didn’t marry him?”
    “Who’s nosy now?” Ruth said. “Vic call?”
    “Honestly, Mother, you’ve got to stop worrying about that kid. If he needed a ride he’d call.”
    “It’s after five, he has house chores. I traded him the barn for the house because . . .” She paused, but it was too late.
    “So he won’t smell like a barn,” her daughter said. “Well he lives on a farm, he’s a farmer’s kid. What’s he supposed to smell like, yogurt and honey?”
    “Okay, let’s leave it. No other calls—from Marie Larocque? She promised to call if there was any change in Belle. Though she’s not exactly reliable. She gets scattered.”
    Sharon put an arm around her mother’s neck. “It’s all right, Mother, it’ll be all right, stop worrying.” The baby whimpered on her back.
    Charlotte gave a long low bellow, answered by her frail calf. Outside there was the hollow metallic sound of a truck door slamming. And then Emily’s voice calling, “Mother, telephone! It’s Marie. Better hurry up. She’s in hysterics.”
    * * * *
    Why did he turn back? Colm didn’t know, but he had this feeling—he was the paranoid one now. It was Vic all right, Colm saw the boy run up to the house and then Ruth dash out of the barn in a baggy blue sweatshirt. Sharon ran behind, baby bouncing on her back. Emily came out on the house porch, waving her arms, looking excited. The farmhouse door banged twice, the baby wailed.
    He drove into the driveway—what the hell, they’d have seen him anyway. Of course he didn’t want to get into a family quarrel, it could be something about Pete. He’d go in on the pretense of making a time to see Vic, for tomorrow; he’d get here early, before the boy left for school. For some reason it seemed important to talk to the boy. And Ruth couldn’t do it, not with objectivity. Sharon was probably right, she overprotected the kid.
    No one answered when he knocked on the back door, so he just walked in. They were all there, sitting around the kitchen table, looking up at their mother. They hardly noticed him. She was holding the phone in her hand, it was still buzzing.
    “That was Marie. Belle’s dead,” Ruth said to the vase of grasses and pussy willow on the table. “She’s gone. An hour ago. They murdered her. Whoever it was, it was murder.”
     

Chapter Five
     
    Marie insisted on laying Belle out, she wasn’t to be embalmed, Belle “wouldn’t like