Authors: Charles Hayes
Pansy (4 page)
Mandy was dying to tell someone but decided to wait until she had undeniable proof. The first time could have been a fluke, but now she knew for sure. She had the whole thing on her camera. She would tell them now, but she wouldn’t show them the video proof until she saw how they reacted to her simply making the claim. They weren’t likely to believe her at first, but she wanted to see if they would at least pretend to do so. She needed some evidence that they wanted to believe her.
The first time it happened, Mandy hadn’t been paying close attention. She’d been reading a book to herself when Pansy’s brush fell into her lap. Pansy stood there more like a golden retriever than a cow. “You didn’t just bring this to me did you, Pansy? No, you couldn’t have. It must have been here all along,” she said, not really sure of her own words. But because the brush was there, she began grooming her pet and singing her favorite song.
When she was through, she put the brush back where it belonged, on a huge nail rest on the wall near the door. The next day, she came into the barn entrance and sat down listening to her iPad. She watched as Pansy entered after her, went directly to the brush, lifted it off the nail rest with her mouth, brought it to Mandy, and in one quick motion dropped it into her lap.
“Oh my God!” Mandy said, staring at Pansy. “How on earth did you know to do that?” She picked up the brush and again began to groom Pansy, whispering in her ear while she brushed.
The next day, Pansy did the same thing, but this time Mandy recorded the whole thing on her iPad. The incident with the brush inspired her to start reading aloud, as if doing it for Pansy’s sake. She would read for hours on end with Pansy’s head in her lap. But Pansy was growing bigger by the day, it seemed, and heavier. Mandy could no longer lift her off the ground. It was out of the question to even try.
As she spent so much time with Pansy, she wondered about all of the school kids in 4-H programs and whether they had experiences similar to hers. Were cows really a lot smarter than people gave them credit for? When she started doing research online, what she learned amazed her. Cows are indeed smarter than most people think, and if they’re like humans, then it would make sense that every once in a while a genius like Pansy could appear.
Another time, Mandy tried something new. By positioning a camera her dad sometimes used to monitor the movement of predators, she managed to record Pansy’s remarkable feat. After a few minutes of grooming, she placed the brush on the wall and sat quietly reading for an hour. Then she put her book down and said, “Pansy, go get the brush.” The tiny hairs on her neck tingled with excitement as she watched Pansy rise and fetch the brush. The sight was astonishing, and the entire sequence, including Mandy’s voice, was captured on video.
Mandy’s excitement abruptly turned to sadness when she realized that, no matter what proof she had, the public at large was never going to believe their source of food was so smart that it shouldn’t be eaten. The proof would never matter because most people would simply choose not to believe it. That was the difference between animals and people, she decided. An animal’s penchant for deception was a measure for survival; for a human, it was a matter of convenience.
So sad, she thought. But things were better now than they used to be. Animal cruelty was indeed frowned upon, and even the fast-food restaurants were paying more attention to the humane treatment of animals in response to public demand. She would try to help things along, and Pansy was living proof that people needed to pay attention to what was happening right before their eyes that they were too blind to see.
Exhausted and fighting pain to get there, Randy had reached the clinic on his own. The nurse had stopped the bleeding right away, but then he’d had to wait his turn until two car accident victims were treated. He asked the doctor how many stitches it took to sew up his leg, and the doc just muttered something he couldn’t understand. When he asked again and got the same answer, he decided to let it go. “Bet he didn’t count them,” Randy thought, accepting a pair of crutches to keep the weight off his leg.
Where he had been excited before and pumped with adrenaline contending with the bear, now he was really restless. He would march into that deli again, and this time he would ask Nadia for a date. She had seemed friendly when he was there before, even though he thought he might have embarrassed her with his constant stares.
* * * * *
When he entered the deli at lunchtime the next day, he saw Nadia look his way and gasp. She returned his smile but was quick to frown again, noting his bruises and crutches. From a table in the corner he heard someone shout, “Here come the Marines.” It was the loudmouth he’d almost grabbed hold of a while back. Randy bit his lip and continued toward Nadia.
“Did you hear me, folks? The Marines have landed.”
Randy let the crutches fall to the floor. He limped over to the table, lifted the guy up by his sweatshirt, and delivered a sharp left hook to big man's midsection, followed by a right and another left. Then he stepped aside and watched as big Ben Atwood crumpled to the floor and lay gasping for air. The whole thing happened so quickly that the other customers sat speechless and perfectly still as if posing for a picture. Then the crowd burst into applause.
Sitting at the other end of the table, the burly friend of loudmouth Atwood looked at Randy and then looked away as if he preferred to change the subject. Randy picked up his crutches and started to go to the counter when a woman nearby said, "Young man, what’s wrong with your leg?" Bright red blood gushed from his wound. He would have to leave quickly to keep from making a mess on the floor. So he waved at Nadia and left.
He could feel the ecstatic sensation of being alive again. His heart was beating so fast, he thought he could hear it. Although he couldn’t see his face, he knew it was red, and he also knew that it wasn’t from his temper or simply from being excited. He was embarrassed.
Uncle Ed would be pissed. And as luck would have it, Atwood might press charges. It could mean the kind of trouble that could keep him from reenlisting. But at the moment, what bothered Randy most was the fact that he still didn’t have the date with Nadia. This might mean that there would never be one. Each time he failed to ask her, he seemed to lose a measure of his nerve. Thinking about the deli crowd’s behavior eased his embarrassment some when it occurred to him that what he had done to Atwood must have been overdue, at least in their minds, and if they thought so, maybe Nadia would as well.
The guy was obviously a bully and needed to be taken down a notch. But still, this wasn’t a very smart strategy to get a date, and he could be in real trouble if the guy were to bring charges. What were the odds that not only would he not get a date with Nadia but he might also wind up in jail? Randy didn't want to wager. He was now more anxious than ever because his reading was disabusing him of the thought of reenlisting, and that left too much of the future to chance. He had no plans, and that was not smart. The Kelloggs always had a plan.
Ed was amazed at how much a person could get done in a few days and how many life-altering decisions one could make in a short time, decisions that would change things forever. Now, the hardest part was yet to come. He wasn’t concerned about telling his nephew. He’d already told Randy he was thinking about moving, and for that matter, Randy was welcome to come along to Idaho. Ed was much relieved, though, that he wasn’t going to have to sell the place. The university wanted to lease the property for ten years for experimental purposes and as an attempt to interest students in farming and ranching in Alaska. It had surprised him because the university already had lots of land, but they were especially interested in his place because of its remoteness. He had always thought his location was a liability, but they seemed interested in it for that very reason.
As he drove past Palmer and Sutton, he thought about how things used to be when his family first moved to the Kellogg place. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was a time when his daughter was the greatest joy in his life. Now she was his biggest worry, but not because he thought she would get into some kind of trouble. He just didn't know how to communicate with her anymore. Every attempt seemed to make things worse. At least he didn’t have to tell her he was selling out. True, it was a bit unfair to do that without discussing it with her, but leasing the place out while she was in college made sense. A provision in the lease would allow him or Mandy to live in the guest house at any time or for the whole ten years if they wanted to.
This was the best of all possible deals. Even so, trying to explain to Mandy why he was just now telling her about his plans was going to be hard because it would be so obvious that he already had most things worked out. He had even made tentative plans to get rid of the herd. The move would clearly change her life forever. But now, with the lease, she could move back after college if she wanted to. She stood to inherit the place, and that was much better than the alternative.
In Anchorage, Dave Tupelo had indeed offered Ed a job, and he had accepted. Of course, he would still have to pass tests and a background check, but he wasn’t the least bit worried. The university chancellor had flown from Fairbanks to Anchorage to meet him, and they had signed the lease agreement with their attorneys present. It had happened so fast, he wondered if he shouldn’t have held out for more money. Obviously the university administrators had been thinking about this project for a long time.
No sense beating himself up over what might have been. This was a good deal and so much better than selling out that he would banish thoughts about second-guessing the transaction. The hardest thing now might just be Mandy’s having to part with her calf. But going off to college, she would have to do that in any case. Although he didn’t see her that way, he knew down deep that she was nearly a grown woman. How attached could she really be to a pet cow? How could anyone be that attached to a bovine beast for that matter? She had grown up on a cattle ranch, so she knew what happened to all of their stock, and she ate beef.
This last thought brought him up short. The more he thought about it, the more he could not recall seeing her eat meat of any kind in months. Instead he’d noticed her eating some unusual entrées—food she didn’t offer him or Randy when they all ate together. It was interesting and a bit puzzling. Trained as a lawman to pay attention to detail, he should have thought of this earlier. Could this be another way for Mandy to punish him, by rejecting the very way he was working to make a living? If he built houses, would she want to live in a tent?
“How many people take their pet cow for a walk?” Mandy wondered. Probably not that many. Even if there were such people, it’s not likely that anyone else would ever know about it, and she didn’t plan to say anything just yet. Pansy would get restless and then start pacing in circles. Before long she would ever so gently nudge Mandy as if she wanted her to do something. So Mandy took her for walks. The third time this happened, Pansy had disappeared for a few minutes and come back with another cow. Thereafter, Mandy and two cows went for a walk each day, and each day, before and after the walk, Mandy would study in the shed with Pansy near at hand.
Being so far away from a school to attend, Mandy had chosen correspondence study as an alternative. Working at her own pace, she had jumped far enough ahead that she was about to graduate high school almost two semesters early. Her grades were good enough to get her into the college of her choice, but she had only just recently decided on a career. Knowing her likes and dislikes, she wondered why it had taken her so long to figure it out. But now that she knew, she was discovering that what she had chosen as a career was one of the hardest and most competitive fields to get into. Who would have thought that the best medical students choose to be veterinarians instead of doctors? That they would rather treat sick animals than care for their own species?
Mandy had been inspired by the television movie about the life of animal science professor Temple Grandin, and she was deeply sympathetic with the plight of large farm animals. Now, like Grandin and because of Pansy, cows were first on her list. Much of what she’d learned about cattle from Grandin's book she had long suspected. She had sensed that cows do not like to be yelled at, that they can tell when people are angry, and that they’re scared of sudden moves but are not as fearful as horses. Most of all, cattle are highly social animals who maintain close friendships and are very curious.
Nellie. That’s what she would call Pansy’s new friend. She had named Daisy only a day before the bear killed her, so Mandy hoped that the act of naming this cow wouldn’t seal her fate. Of course, her dad had said he would spare Pansy, but he didn’t say that about any of the others. She would wait for a while to bring it up. No need to say anything now.
Maybe after they saw her videos, Randy and Dad would start to think differently about her animals. Not likely though. They would want to think of Pansy as a freak of nature. The thought made her both angry and sad because blaming Randy, after all he had been through in the war and losing his mother, seemed unfair. She would have to wait and postpone her judgment. No sense being mad at people because of what you think they are going to do. Time would tell, and who knows what Pansy might do in the future?
Doc wasn’t happy that Randy had blown out his stitches so fast, and the way he restitched the wound spoke louder than if he had expressed his annoyance verbally. This time the leg hurt. This time Randy would take the pain medication. In fact, it made him feel a little bolder than usual, so now was the time to act.
When he walked into the deli, he could see Nadia behind the counter looking directly at him. He crutched himself to an abrupt halt and said, “Sorry about the commotion in here yesterday.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “Those two are troublemakers, big trouble all the time. I wish they don’t come back, but they do always.”
“Yeah, not likely they will stay away. Not many choices of places to go in a community as small as this one.” Randy knew he shouldn’t look at her so intently, but he couldn’t help himself.
“What can I get for you today, kind sir? Is it true, a bear attack you?”
“Nothing, thanks. And yes, it’s true about the bear. I just wanted to ask you something.”
“What to ask?” She stepped toward him.
He felt like an enemy sniper had sights on him, and if she said no, a bullet would pierce his heart.
“I was wondering if I might take you out to dinner this weekend and maybe to a movie or something.” She studied his face for a moment that, to Randy, seemed like an eternity. She seemed to be at a loss for words. He watched as her lips began to move, and then a melodious sound reached his ears.
“Yes, I would like that,” she said, smoothing her hair.
“Is Saturday night okay?”
“Yes,” she nodded.
“Where should I pick you up? What’s a good time?”
“Seven, and I meet you here.”
“I can pick you up at home, it’s no trouble,” he said.
“No, I meet you here. Seven okay. Can I get you something to eat?”
“No,” he said, smiling as though he’d won a raffle. “I got what I came for. See you Saturday at seven.”
As he emerged from the deli, his crutches seemed weightless. Not only that, he felt alive, truly alive. This was the first time he had felt this way for as long as he could remember without also being in imminent danger. It also occurred to him for the first time that Nadia looked a lot like Mandy—same hair, same eyes. They could pass as sisters. He must remember to ask Mandy if she had seen Nadia or if she knew anything about her.
Life seemed better today. Now, at least for the moment, reengaging in combat seemed ludicrous. If only he could maintain this stance, but he sensed it would be difficult to stop those ever more frequent nagging feelings. They would come over him at times like a wave of nausea, but instead of feeling sick, he felt terribly unimportant. If he wasn't putting his life on the line, his effort at whatever he was doing felt disingenuous and like a waste of time. How was he going to stop this cycle that was slowly turning into a kind of self-loathing?
The worry was enough to blot out any joy he might feel about his upcoming date. All of those people he had ridiculed before, believing that they were faking symptoms of PTSD. Now he was beginning to understand firsthand what it’s like to crave something you should despise and to despise yourself when deprived of the privilege. A privilege, that's what it was, wasn't it? Wasn't serving your country a privilege?