THE COW HE CAME TO BUY

by

Chapter 2

THEME:
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It did not care that Clover had been with us since Oscar was small enough to sleep in a laundry basket by the stove.

It did not care that she had carried us through two winters after Curtis left.

It did not care that my son read school lessons aloud to her.

Thirty-six dollars was due to Orin Peabody at the bank on the first of June.

And so Clover had to go.

I had repeated that sentence to myself for three weeks.

Now I could hardly breathe around it.

Adrien climbed down from his horse.

He was taller than I had expected.

Thirty-nine, perhaps forty, with shoulders broadened by work rather than fat, a gray-flecked beard, sun-darkened skin, and a stillness that made him seem even larger.

He took off his hat.

Oscar finally lifted his head.

"Mister?"

His voice was small.

Adrien stopped.

"Yes?"

Oscar tightened his arms around Clover.

"Please don't take her."

My fingers closed around my apron.

"Oscar."

He did not look at me.

"Come away now."

He looked directly at Adrien.

"She's all we have left."

Something inside me broke open.

"Oscar."

This time my voice came sharper than I meant it to.

His shoulders jumped.

Shame burned through me immediately.

The boy had done nothing wrong except love something we could not afford to keep.

Adrien did not reach for the rope.

He stood in the dust with his hat in one hand and studied my son.

Then, to my astonishment, he crouched down until his eyes were level with Oscar's.

"What is her name?"

"Clover."

"That's a fine name."

"She likes when you scratch behind her left ear."

Adrien glanced at the cow.

"The left?"

"Yes, sir. Not the right. She doesn't like the right."

"I'll remember that."

Oscar swallowed.

"No, you won't."

Adrien looked back at him.

"You aren't going to," Oscar whispered. "You're going to take her anyway."

That was when his lip trembled.

I had never hated poverty as much as I did in that moment.

Not hunger.

Not cold.

Not patches on my skirt.

Not counting flour before baking.

Not putting water into yesterday's stew.

Poverty was not any of those things by itself.

Poverty was standing on a porch while your child begged a stranger not to take the one creature he trusted not to leave.

Adrien looked at Oscar a long time.

Then he stood.

His gaze came to me.

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