Listen To Me Honey (7 page)

“Jubel resembles a lab, but no one knows his family tree.
Someone just dropped him off here,” Art explained.

Jubel slanted his head toward
Art.

Tansy said, “Amanda, that mutt
showed up one day and became yer grandpa’s shadow. He's been a
freeloader ever since.”

Art bristled in defence of Jubel.
“Careful what ya say, Tansy. Y'all are fixin' to hurt Jubel's
feelings. He's right smart.”

Tansy declared, “That dog a
nuisance.”

Art defended, “Jubel's my loyal
companion. I sure do appreciate his company.”

Tansy snorted. “Amanda, does it
sound to y'all like yer grandpa lives here all alone with no one
but that dog to talk to?”

Amanda shrugged. She knew better
than to get in the middle of this heated discussion.

As if Jubel knew what Art said, he
stood and put his head in Art's lap as a thank you.

“Ya
know ever word I tell ya. Weell, try this on fer size. Dog, y'all
see that girl over there on the edge of the porch. She's aching to
be friends with ya. About time ya quit being so snooty and let her
pat ya.”

Jubel cocked his head and
whined.

“I
don't want no complaining from ya. Just go over there and make up
to Mandie before I get mad at ya,” Art said, wiggling his finger at
Amanda. “Come on now.” Art got up and walked over beside Amanda.
Jubel followed behind him and peered out around his legs at the
girl. “That won't do, Jubel. Get in front of me and introduce
yerself.”

Jubel walked in front of
Art.

Art pointed at the porch floor.
“Sit.”

The dog sat, perked his ears and
waited for the next command.

“Now, Mandie, reach yer hand out and put it on top of his
head. Talk nice and quiet to him while ya do it so he hears the
sound of yer voice.”

“Hi,
Jubel. Nice to meet you,” Amanda said as she rubbed his
head.

Jubel let out a groaning
rumble.

Amanda removed her hand and looked
fearfully at Art. “Is Jubel mad at me?”

“Jubel, me and ya are goin' behind the barn and have words
if ya don't do better than that,” Art said sharply.

Jubel stretched to Amanda's hand on
her leg and rubbed it with his cold, wet nose.

“What's he want, Grandpa?”

Art smiled. “Fer ya to pat his head
again. He decided he liked it. Best oblige Jubel. He's in the mood
to make up to ya.”

Amanda put her hand on top Jubel's
head again and patted him gently. “Good boy. That's a good
boy.”

Jubel scooted closer until he was
beside Amanda. He laid down and closed his eyes.

“I
reckon that takes care of that,” Art said, going back to his
chair.

Tansy grumbled, “That mongrel sure
don't make up to me like that.”

“Jubel would if ya let him,” Art replied softly. “He has to
know ya like him first.”

Tansy grunted. “That will be the
day.”

“Grandma, you know how to make braids, don't you?” Amanda
asked.

“I
do it all the time to my hair and wind it up on the back of my
head? Why?”

Amanda took the band off her
ponytail. “I liked Willa's braids. I wish I could have my hair
fixed like that. Is it long enough to make braids?”

Tansy leaned forward in her rocker
and put her hands in her lap. “Sure yer hair is long enough. Ya
want it braided right now?”

“Aw,
guess we could wait until morning if ya have time.”

Tansy nodded. “We can make time. As
soon as we do the dishes, ya sit down, and I will make ya
braids.”

Amanda looked off toward the timber
as she patted the dog. Out of the blue, she asked, “Does your phone
work?”

“Sure it does,” Art replied.

“I
pay the bill ever month so it will,” Tansy said. “Remember back Art
when we had to put up with the party line?”

“Sure do,” Art said, staring off into space with his hands
behind his head.

“What kind of party did they have?” Amanda
asked.

Tansy explained, “Not the kind of
party you're thinkin'. The word party meant there were several
houses on the same phone line. We had to take turns usin' the phone
and had a special ring for each house so we knew the call was for
us.”

“We
weren't supposed to listen to other conversations, but that didn't
stop nosy people from eavesdroppin',” Art said.

“You
don't have party lines now?” Amanda asked.

“No,
but why are ya askin'?” Tansy wanted to know.

“It's just that I never hear the phone ring. I thought
maybe my mom and dad might call some time to see how I am,” Amanda
said with a twinge of sadness in her voice.

“They will, girl. Just give them some space now,” Art said.
“Look at that, will ya, Mandie? Them two old cows are nosing at the
barn door. I'm fixin' to go milk. Want to he'p me milk
tonight?”

That question took Amanda by
surprise. “Me? I don't know how.”

“It's simple to learn. Yer daddy used to he'p me milk. I'll
show ya,” Art told her.

“Grandma needs me to help get supper,” Amanda
excused.

“Listen to me, Honey, I been fixin' meals around here by
myself long before y'all showed up, and I'll be doing it after ya
go home. Reckon I can spare ya this once,” Tansy said.

“Am
I ever going home?” Amanda asked, longingly thinking about how long
it had been since she'd talked to her parents.

“Yes, ya will go home when the time comes,” Tansy
said.

“Mandie, get them two milk pails on the kitchen counter,
and let's go,” Art said. “I want to bring a pail of water from the
well with us.”

When Amanda left the porch, Art
whispered, “Poor little girl. She's homesick.”

“She
may well be, but it's too soon to weaken now,” Tansy
said.

By that time, Amanda was back,
carrying the two buckets. Grandpa filled the bucket hanging on the
pump spout.

Just inside the barn door, Grandpa said, “Y'all
stand in the corner until I get the cows into their stanchions.
They don't know ya, and that might make them bulk about coming in.”
He opened the back door and called, “Maybelle and Eleanor,
get in
here.”

The jersey cows trotted through the
door and headed to their stalls. They stuck their heads in between
the upright wooden bars. Art tightened the stanchion to their necks
so they couldn't back out.

“Mandie, open that door by ya to the feed room. There's a
grain sack with a coffee can in it. Fill that can and bring it to
the trough in front of the cows. Pour the can in front of one and
go get another can for the other.”

Amanda did what he told her. That
was easy. The cows were fastened in so they couldn't hurt her, but
they sure looked big when she was up close to them.

“Now
what, Grandpa?”

“Pick up a bucket and one of those three legged stools
hangin' from the nails. I'll get the other one,” Art told
her.

“Why
do you have two stools?”

“After yer daddy growed up, Grandma he'p me milk when we
had more cows. When we got down to two fer our own use, she quit
me.” Grandpa plunked the stool down. “Which cow ya
want?”

“I
guess this one,” Amanda said, pointing to the closest cow to her.
“What's her name?”

“That's Maybelle.”

Amanda eyed the cow uncertainly.
“What do I do?”

Grandpa reached up on a shelf and
took a rag off a stack. He dunked it in the water pail and squeezed
it out. “First, I have to wash off the udder so no dirt gets in the
milk.” He gently moved the wet rag around the cow's bag. “Easy,
Maybelle. Stand still now,” he said quietly. “Ya see it he'ps to
talk to the cows so they know you're friendly and not going to hurt
or scare them.” He tossed the rag back on the shelf and got another
rag to wash Eleanor. “Now put yer milk pail under the cow and place
the stool as close as ya can get.”

As she sat, Amanda heard Maybelle
sweeping up the feed with her long gray tongue. Grandpa sat on his
stool beside her. “Now watch me. Ya reach for the teats on the far
side with yer thumb and a couple fingers. Tug downward, gradually
closing yer hand. The milk will squirt out.”

Amanda closed her hands around the
teats and pulled down. A tiny dribble came from each teat. “That
don't look like a whole lot. Didn't I do it right?”

Art stood and picked up his stool.
“Weell, it do take some practice to get faster at it. It's best to
get done by the time the cow finishes her feed. She gets more
restless when she doesn't have any feed to eat. Might stick a foot
in the bucket and spill the milk ya worked so hard to
get.”

Amanda squeezed again. Two streams
of milk squirted with force into the bucket. Ting, ting,
ting.

“That a girl. Ya got the hang of it. Just keep goin' until
the bag runs dry. I'm goin' to milk ole Eleanor.”

Soon the sound of milk hitting the
pail changed from ting, ting, ting to a rhythm of twash, twash, as
the bucket filled up. The sweet, warm milk developed a frothy foam
on top of it.

While Amanda really concentrated on
her aim so the squirts went in the bucket, Maybelle swished her
tail and clobbered her head. Amanda didn't see that coming.
“Ouch!”

“What happen?” Grandpa asked.

Amanda snapped, “The cow hit me
with her tail. It hurt.”

Art chuckled. “Sorry about that. I
forgot to tell ya to watch out for her tail. Cows have a habit of
swingin' their tails around, especially Maybelle.”

Finally, the teats ran dry. Amanda
stood and picked up the pail and stool. “Grandpa, I'm
done.”

“How
about that! I'm almost done myself. We'll turn the cows loose and
go tell Grandma how my new chore girl did.”

“Good! Maybe that will make her like me better,” complained
Amanda, hanging the stool on the nail.

“Now, Mandie, yer grandma likes ya fine. She just isn't
used to havin' a girl around. What makes y'all think she don't like
ya?” Art asked.

Amanda shoved her hands deep in her
pockets. “I guess it's the tone in her voice when she gives me one
of her in the old days lectures.”

“Weell, yer grandma just wants ya to know we didn't all
have it as easy as y'all,” Grandpa said. “And it could be, ya
imagine from what yer grandma says that she's a little strict.
Sometimes, her voice sounds that way, but that isn't the way she
really feels. She just wants to see ya grow up a good girl. Ya know
what I mean?”

“I
think so, but I'm not sure Grandma can change toward me. She keeps
seeing me like I was when I came here. She doesn't think I can
change,” Amanda said. A yellow cat came out of the dark corner and
wrapped himself around Amanda's legs. “Hello, Kitty.” Amanda bent
to pat him.

“Old
Yeller is waitin' for his warm milk. He has a pan in the corner.
Pour some milk out of yer bucket, but be careful not to spill it.
I'll turn the cows loose.”

“Come on, Yeller,” Amanda called as she went to his
bowl.

As they walked to the house, Amanda
asked, “Why did you pick funny names like Maybelle and Eleanor for
the cows?”

“Maybelle was Tansy's mother. She was a character. The kind
that didn't take any guff off anyone. She'd just as soon cuff ya on
the head if ya made her mad.”

“That sounds a little like Grandma,” Amanda
suggested.

Art grinned. “Some, only what ya
got to learn is yer grandma is more bark than the bite type like
her old mama was. Eleanor was named after Eleanor Roosevelt, first
lady of this country for about twelve years. A fine woman she was,
too.”

“I
don't know who she is,” Amanda admitted.

“Best pay attention to yer history books in school,”
Grandpa declared. “The people in this country's history are really
interesting.”

Amanda carried her pail of milk to
the house. “Look what I did, Grandma.”

“Well, I declare! That's quite a pail full. Which cow did
ya milk?”

“Maybelle. She stood really still for me, and she only hit
me once with her tail. I fed both cows, too. When Yeller showed up,
I put some milk in his pan for him,” Amanda recited.

Art patted her on the back. “This
is a right good chore girl, Tansy.”

Tansy eyed Amanda. One eyebrow
raised and smiled. “How about that. Does this mean I lost my table
setter?”

“Aw,
I figured to loan her to ya once in awhile,” Art teased and winked
at Amanda.

Amanda listened to how easy they
joked with each other. She wished the day would come they included
her in the joking.

She felt proud of herself for doing
something that pleased her grandpa. She couldn't think of a thing
she'd done that made her parents happy and not her grandma,
either.

After supper, Grandma picked up the
heavy crock and set it on her hip. “Amanda, ya want to go with me
to the spring house, and see where we put the milk?”