not!” Keller brushed off his belly to make sure the snake hadn’t left anything on it. “I didn’t see it coming, that’s all.”
Old Gert had settled down, her legs tucked under. She was making a crunching sound, moving her lips sideways in opposite directions, chewing her cud. Keller knelt and leaned against her, then looked down at the grass and decided to stand.
“How you gonna cow tip if you’re afraid of snakes?” Eli teased.
Fireworks exploded into the sky, peppering the darkness with streaks of orange and blue and white. The herd did another loop around the pasture, waiting for Old Gert to catch up before stopping.
“Guess they’re doing the fireworks anyway,” Keller hollered, looking up at the globes of cascading color. “Maybe we’ll cow tip another night. When it’s not the Fourth of July.”
“Nah.” Eli shook his head. “You wouldn’t want me messing with your Sour Patch pigs, would you?”
Keller stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugged his shoulders and spit.
Then they both eyed the shadowy outlines of the cattle as they galloped farther down the hillside.
Eli was heading for the house when he heard splashing in the creek. He went down and saw Pa and Hannah swimming.
“Where you been?” Pa asked, stroking toward the bank.
“Checking on the cattle.”
“It’s dark, son.” Pa stopped swimming and wiped the water from his eyes. “Has Keller been gettin’ you to cow tip?”
“Nah.” Eli shook his head.
How did Pa know about that?
Pa came up on the bank and swatted a mosquito above Eli’s head. “The Tibbets do that every Fourth. Never saw much point in it. A calf could get hurt. Bruise its flesh.”
A few fat raindrops fell on their shoulders. Pa looked up at the sky.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to show you for a while, son.” Pa held back a few dripping bangs. “And I better hurry. Now it’s something big.” Pa smirked, walking backward. “So you better stand clear.” Then he turned around, sprinted toward the creek and pitched into the air.
“Cannonball!” Hannah shouted, watching Pa grab hold of his knees.
Pa shattered the surface of the swimming hole with a big fat cannonball.
“You try it, Eli!” Hannah laughed.
“The only way to get the mosquitoes off ya is to go under,” Pa said.
“I got my clothes on.”
“But you’re already wet,” Hannah pointed out.
It was raining harder now. Warm drops dribbled down Eli’s nose.
Eli took off his sneakers and socks. The ground was just softening. When he looked up, Pa and Hannah had cleared the way, bobbing in the water ten feet apart.
Eli’s heart beat faster and he began to run. As he jumped, he could see Pa laughing and Hannah clapping. He hit the water with his shins hard and it smarted. But he was having too much fun to care. He went under the water and grinned.
Chapter Twelve
In the Show Ring
Little Joe didn’t like to step over anything, especially not the garden hose obstacle Grandpa had coiled round, its shiny nozzle poking up like a copperhead snake in front of the silo. Eli clenched hard on the calf’s halter. He pulled left, leading Little Joe around it and into the imaginary ring.
“Good. Now set him up,” Grandpa commanded, pressing a finger against his nose and looking serious under his straw hat. “And pretend like I’m the judge,” he added, fanning his face with the other hand. “You’re in the show ring now, remember. The fair’s not even two months away.”
The three of them were already sweating. Smatterings of filmy cobwebs the outdoor spiders had spun overnight still hung like dew blankets over the lawn, and the daisieswere just opening up. It was going to be another scorching August day. Eli wished he had a hat on, too, but you couldn’t compete if you wore one.
Eli waited until the calf’s front legs were straight before tugging on the lead strap to get him to stop. All he could hear was the soft tinkling of the chain on the leather strap.
Maggie Brendan
Barbara O'Connor
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G.P. Taylor
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