Read Online Till the Cows Come Home by Judy Clemens - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judy Clemens
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back to work. I knew he did—I watched him go. I smiled and even gave stupid Wendy a pat on the rump. Hard-liners like Howie might laugh at me for hiring a barn painter, but so far it was worth every penny.
And he hadn’t even done anything yet.
Chapter Seven
“Excuse me,” I said.
The cow stared at me and slowly blinked her long eyelashes.
“Cindy,” I said. “I will get out of your way if you will kindly move a few inches to the left.”
Cindy, a third-generation Royalcrest cow, gave no indication that she understood, so I sucked in my stomach and squeezed between her and the wall. She was almost eighteen, after all, and deserved some respect. As soon as I was past, of course, she decided to move her big rear and go outside.
Howie had unclipped the cows and they were meandering out of the barn, into the pasture, back into the barn, and into stalls to finish up leftover food or to take a nap in the shredded newspapers we use as bedding. They were free to roam where they pleased, within the confines of the electric fences we had set up in the farmyard to keep them out of the yard, the feed barn, and what garden we had. They mostly chose to do whatever took the least effort.
I changed the radio to WMMR, Philly’s classic rock station, and Queenie was keeping me company (getting in the way) as I scraped the floor, cleaned out any stalls that needed it, and put lime on the concrete walkways to make them look clean. Well, maybe not clean. A little whiter, anyway. Some farm cats were watching me do a half-hearted dance with the pitchfork to ZZ Top’s “She’s Got Legs” when Howie came in, chuckling.
“I never said I could dance,” I said.
“I’m not laughing at you, Princess. Have you taken a look at your new boyfriend lately?”
Surprisingly, it had been about a half-hour since I’d taken a break to check out my new hire. A little leery since Howie was so amused, I put down my dance partner and walked outside.
Nick was hard at work, powerwashing the heifer barn, water going everywhere, taking old paint and probably a little bit of the barn with it. I glanced at Howie, unsure what the punch line was.
“Take a closer look,” Howie said.
I walked a little farther toward the heifer barn and finally got the joke. Nick saw me out of the corner of his eye and stopped spraying.
“Need something?” he asked.
I burst out laughing.
“It’s the shoes, right?” he said. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn these.”
I kept laughing and shook my head. No one would know that Adonis lurked under all the paraphernalia he wore. He was completely covered, from head to foot, in coveralls, boots, and gloves, accented by paint specks, dirt, and who-knows-what-else. His hair was covered with a painting cap, and he wore big, bug-like goggles.
“I know,” he said. “I’m the most anal retentive painter you’ve ever met.”
I nodded.
“You need something?” he asked again, I thought a little testily.
I shook my head and tried to get rid of my smile. “Don’t stop working on my account.”
He turned away, and water resumed pounding the barn.
“Lovely,” I said, walking back to Howie.
“Gotta give him points for knowing his job, if not fashion,” Howie said, smirking.
“I suppose your overalls are on the runway in Paris.”
“I wear only the best, b’gosh.”
I groaned and made my way back into the barn. Howie followed.
“At least I know the ugly ducking out there really is a swan,” I said. “Unlike some other guys I know.”
Howie threw a wad of newspaper at me and Queenie ran after it and took it back to him.
“So what are your plans for the day?” I asked.
Howie threw the paper for Queenie again. “I need to fix the conveyor belt on the heifer feeder, then I’m going to scrape the lots that didn’t get cleaned yesterday during the poop fiasco. If I have time before lunch I’m going to haul some hay over for the heifers. You?”
“I think I’ll mow the yard. The way it’s
And he hadn’t even done anything yet.
Chapter Seven
“Excuse me,” I said.
The cow stared at me and slowly blinked her long eyelashes.
“Cindy,” I said. “I will get out of your way if you will kindly move a few inches to the left.”
Cindy, a third-generation Royalcrest cow, gave no indication that she understood, so I sucked in my stomach and squeezed between her and the wall. She was almost eighteen, after all, and deserved some respect. As soon as I was past, of course, she decided to move her big rear and go outside.
Howie had unclipped the cows and they were meandering out of the barn, into the pasture, back into the barn, and into stalls to finish up leftover food or to take a nap in the shredded newspapers we use as bedding. They were free to roam where they pleased, within the confines of the electric fences we had set up in the farmyard to keep them out of the yard, the feed barn, and what garden we had. They mostly chose to do whatever took the least effort.
I changed the radio to WMMR, Philly’s classic rock station, and Queenie was keeping me company (getting in the way) as I scraped the floor, cleaned out any stalls that needed it, and put lime on the concrete walkways to make them look clean. Well, maybe not clean. A little whiter, anyway. Some farm cats were watching me do a half-hearted dance with the pitchfork to ZZ Top’s “She’s Got Legs” when Howie came in, chuckling.
“I never said I could dance,” I said.
“I’m not laughing at you, Princess. Have you taken a look at your new boyfriend lately?”
Surprisingly, it had been about a half-hour since I’d taken a break to check out my new hire. A little leery since Howie was so amused, I put down my dance partner and walked outside.
Nick was hard at work, powerwashing the heifer barn, water going everywhere, taking old paint and probably a little bit of the barn with it. I glanced at Howie, unsure what the punch line was.
“Take a closer look,” Howie said.
I walked a little farther toward the heifer barn and finally got the joke. Nick saw me out of the corner of his eye and stopped spraying.
“Need something?” he asked.
I burst out laughing.
“It’s the shoes, right?” he said. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn these.”
I kept laughing and shook my head. No one would know that Adonis lurked under all the paraphernalia he wore. He was completely covered, from head to foot, in coveralls, boots, and gloves, accented by paint specks, dirt, and who-knows-what-else. His hair was covered with a painting cap, and he wore big, bug-like goggles.
“I know,” he said. “I’m the most anal retentive painter you’ve ever met.”
I nodded.
“You need something?” he asked again, I thought a little testily.
I shook my head and tried to get rid of my smile. “Don’t stop working on my account.”
He turned away, and water resumed pounding the barn.
“Lovely,” I said, walking back to Howie.
“Gotta give him points for knowing his job, if not fashion,” Howie said, smirking.
“I suppose your overalls are on the runway in Paris.”
“I wear only the best, b’gosh.”
I groaned and made my way back into the barn. Howie followed.
“At least I know the ugly ducking out there really is a swan,” I said. “Unlike some other guys I know.”
Howie threw a wad of newspaper at me and Queenie ran after it and took it back to him.
“So what are your plans for the day?” I asked.
Howie threw the paper for Queenie again. “I need to fix the conveyor belt on the heifer feeder, then I’m going to scrape the lots that didn’t get cleaned yesterday during the poop fiasco. If I have time before lunch I’m going to haul some hay over for the heifers. You?”
“I think I’ll mow the yard. The way it’s
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