Chicken Feathers (12 page)

“Don’t you want to keep it?” Josh said.

“Nope. I need the space in my room. There’s a teddy bear too and Jumbo the gray velvet elephant. How’s Semolina?”

“Getting better and better. I took off the wool coat. She—” He was going to say she said it was too hot, but he stopped himself. “She’s more comfortable without it, and she’s eating real good. Want to see her?”

They sat on the porch swing, Semolina crouched between
them. The old bird had a fringe of feathers top and bottom and bare skin mottled pink and white in the middle. The bite marks had closed up and were near enough to healed. Annalee laughed. “Beg pardon, Semolina, but you look as though you’re wearing a bikini.”

“She won’t take offense,” said Josh. “She doesn’t know what a bikini is.” He caught Annalee’s quick look. Darn! He’d come paper-thin close to breaking his promise. He said quickly, “She can walk fine and stretch out her wings. Here, Semolina, climb on my knee.”

The chicken took not one scrap of notice but sidled closer to Annalee, who automatically started stroking her with those long pink nails. After a while, Annalee said, “It’s been a great summer.”

“Not over yet.”

“Soon. I go back to school end of next week.”

“No!” He could not believe that the time had gone. He too would be back at school in two weeks. “You coming over the day they get home?”

She slowly stroked the back of Semolina’s head with her forefinger, and Josh thought of his mother running her hands
through his hair. Just watching Annalee made him want to close his eyes.

“Of course,” Annalee said. “Your grandma invited us for lunch to celebrate, and I want to hold Tori. You held Tori yet, Josh?”

“Yep. I done that.”

“What does she feel like?”

He tried to estimate Tori’s weight. “Like about three dozen eggs.”

“Josh! That’s not what I meant. How is it to hold your own baby sister?”

He bent his arm to remember the little thing that had rested in it. “Really neat, I guess. Lots of hair.”

“I remember when Harrison was born. He yelled a lot. He’s coming for lunch too, and Bob.”

“Bob’s coming to see Tori?”

Annalee smiled. “No. He wants to see the chicken that stole the silver ring. He also heard you’d be launching the boat in the afternoon. He said he wants first ride.”

Josh was silent. His father had suggested they launch the boat on the coming-home day. It was all planned. Mom and
Tori in the front of the car, Josh and Grandma in the back, brand-spanking-new boat on the trailer, out on the road, down the Binochettes’ drive and over the cow farm, Annalee and maybe Harrison opening gates for them all the way to the river. He hadn’t put Bob in that picture.

Annalee looked at him. “I told Bob I was having first ride.”

He grinned. “I already got first ride reserved for Annalee Binochette!”

“That’s how it should be,” she said. “Isn’t it called a maiden voyage?”

They both laughed a warm lazy laugh that fell on the porch like warm syrup. Josh put his hands above his head and stretched. It had been a good summer, he thought, a great summer, and it still wasn’t over.

Semolina tried to get on Annalee’s lap, but her claws were sharp and Annalee put her back on the swing seat. The old hen was annoyed. She pecked Annalee’s hand.

“Ouch! Why did she do that?”

Josh frowned at Semolina. “She’s still jittery,” he said.

Annalee sucked her hand. “Did your father tell you they caught the fox?”

“They did?”

“Out by Loon Lake.”

Josh glanced at Semolina, who had become very still and bright-eyed.

“Are they going to send it away to that wild animal sanctuary?” he asked.

“They can’t, Josh. Someone shot it dead.”

“Dang!” Josh thought he should be glad, but he wasn’t. It was just a fox doing what foxes did, and if that was wrong for people and chickens, it was right for foxes. Now its life was gone. But he wouldn’t allow that fact to turn into a worry wrinkle. No, sir!

Semolina jumped down off the swing and shook what was left of her feathers. Then, walking with high steps so that the silver ring jiggled and tinkled, she went across the porch, down the steps and along the path to the flower garden, where she began to scratch for worms.

Grandma was upstairs getting her room ready for the baby. She called down to him to bring up the doll carriage and toys.

“This is Tori’s room when I go back home,” she said.

“I’ll miss you, Grandma,” Josh said. “I’ll be sad to see you go.”

“Nonsense!” she said. “Don’t talk tripe.”

“I will,” he insisted, and it was true. He pushed the carriage into the corner of the room and then handed her the green knitted coat. “Semolina doesn’t need it anymore. It’ll still be all right for Tori if it’s washed.”

“What?” She threw up her hands. “You trying to give your baby sister the chicken pox?”

His mouth opened. He was going to tell her that chickens didn’t get chicken pox when he saw the glint in her spectacles and realized she’d made a joke. He laughed, and before he could think about it, his arms were around her. She was thick around the middle and his hands didn’t meet, but all the same, he gave her a squeezy hug and then ran out of the room before she could say anything.

The next time he saw the green jacket it was washed and in the doll’s carriage, on Jumbo the gray velvet elephant.

Grandma fancied up the house real nice for the luncheon. Josh helped her clean the windows and polish the oak floors with rags wrapped around the broom. They carried the crib up from the basement. It sat waiting by Elizabeth’s side of the bed.

When Tucker drove up with Elizabeth and Tori, there were red geraniums and yellow daisies on the porch, and
Grandma and Josh called out, “Welcome home,” as they got out of the car. Josh thought his mother looked fine and strong. Both she and his father had faces shining as though they’d eaten Tarkah’s fire egg for breakfast. Tori, wrapped in the white shawl Grandma had knitted for Josh ten years ago, was asleep, eyes scrunched shut. Elizabeth took her upstairs to put her down in her crib.

Later, more people would come for the luncheon, Mr. and Mrs. Binochette, Annalee, Harrison and Bob, the Sorensons, the Sampsons, Mrs. Waters. But right now was the quiet time for Elizabeth to sit back in her own armchair in her own home and be with her family. Grandma brought in a jug of iced tea for the ladies and three bottles of her brew for the gentlemen. Mr. Binochette and Mr. Sampson said they would have iced tea, thank you very much, but Tucker smiled at Grandma and said, well, now, he’d have a brew to celebrate the day.

Elizabeth said she’d just have water because it was very thirsty work feeding a baby.

After that, they said very little, as though it was enough to enjoy being together. Semolina stayed out on the porch,
not too bothered by the changes in the day. She didn’t even come into the conversation except for Josh mentioning that maybe they could get some fertile eggs for her to sit on when she next grew clucky.

“Nice idea,” said Mr. Binochette.

“Let’s do that!” said Elizabeth. “Semolina would love some chicks.”

“Ah, maybe not,” said Tucker. “Josh, chickens get clucky when a patch of skin gets itchy. Brood patch, they call it. Only thing stops the itch is sitting on eggs and keeping them warm till they hatch.”

“Semolina’s not too old to do that,” Josh said.

“Old ain’t the point, son.” Tucker took a sip of the brew. “Point is she don’t have too many feathers to fluff over eggs right now. Wait till they grow again and then we’ll see.”

Josh sat on the arm of his mother’s chair. “You coming to the river this afternoon?” he asked her.

She put her arm around him. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Tori and I will probably stay in the car and just watch, if you don’t mind.”

“I promised Annalee the first ride,” he said.

“Well, now, I remember you told me that!” she said. “Excellent. Do you both have life vests?”

He laughed. “Sure, Mom, but don’t you worry. My boat isn’t the
Titanic.
”

“No icebergs on Grayhawk River,” said Mr. Sampson.

In the middle of a smile, Elizabeth put her head on one side and half rose out of the chair. “Hear something?”

Josh couldn’t hear a thing except the water heater in the kitchen.

“Tori’s awake,” she said.

Grandma, Tucker and Josh followed Elizabeth upstairs and sat on the bed as she changed the baby. Tori was really good at feeding, as hungry as a little calf. Her eyes were wide open, dark, searching their faces as they talked to her.

“She doesn’t take after Tucker and Josh,” Grandma said.

Elizabeth smiled. “No, Mother. I think she looks a lot like you.”

Grandma waved the comment away. “Don’t put that on the poor little critter!” But Josh could tell she was pleased.

He followed his father downstairs while his mother and grandmother put the baby back in the crib.

“This Christmas,” said Tucker, “our Christmas cards will be from Tucker and Elizabeth and family.”

“And when she’s big,” said Josh, “I’m going to take her fishing.”

There wasn’t space to say more because at the foot of the stairs, Tucker let out a yell like he’d trodden on a snake. “That blessed varmint! Garn! Get out of it!”

Josh knew before he looked. Tucker had left his glass on the floor beside his chair, and Semolina was drinking the last of his brew.

“Sorry,” said Mrs. Binochette. “We were talking. We didn’t notice.”

The noise brought Grandma and Elizabeth down the stairs.

Tucker waved at them. “Come and see this! Crazy old bird’s drunk my ale. Look at her! She can scarce walk.”

It was true. Semolina was mighty unsteady on her feet, and her wings were drooping near to the ground. But she was as sassy as ever, coming back to the glass for the last few drops of brown water.

Tucker turned to Josh. “You did tell me—” He stopped and scratched his head. He was trying to figure it all out.

“She couldn’t have drunk a whole glass,” said Elizabeth.

“She bug-spittin’ could!” said Josh. He picked up Semolina and held her in front of him. “You’ve really messed up this time!” he scolded.

Semolina pushed her head forward until her beak was almost on his nose. “Yeah, yeah,” she said in a loud voice. “So what are you going to do about it?”