Cows

 

 This picture prompt is in honor of my good friend and running buddy.  We run past a dairy farm almost every Saturday and the cows stare at us.  

Enjoy!

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My response:

"Maggie, go grab the lead rope, will you?"

I rolled my eyes at my dad and backed away from the heifer.  This was not how I'd planned on spending the last few days before school started.  I had school clothes to buy, friends to call, and I wanted to hit the water park before it closed for the summer.  I let my mind wander, listing the myriad of things I'd rather be doing than hanging out at the county fair.

Squish.

I knew immediately what had happened.  My nerves trembled, and I gagged.  Slowly, my eyes traced their way down my designer jeans to the turquoise cowboy boots I had on.  Yep.  Manure.  Someone must have passed by our stall on their way to the auction while I was in there.  My stomach rolled.

"Maggie, now!  Do you want to be late?"

"No!" I don't want to be here at all, I wanted to say, but we'd been down that argument before.  If I hadn't wanted to raise a cow, I didn't have to.  Mom and Dad only bought her for me when I'd begged.  But that was back in the spring, when Tammy Ryland was still here, and she was getting a cow.  All she ever talked about was how much money she made each year at auction.  I couldn't let her show me up, and we did have that small pasture to the side of our property that we never used.  Back then, it seemed like such a good idea.  Back then, I didn't have boots covered in muck.  And now that Tammy's family had moved, I didn't even have Tammy to blame it on anymore.

I stepped back into the hay, swiping my heel against the scratchy stuff, but not having much luck in un-mucking my boot.

"Oh.  Ew."

I looked up at the voice and saw something I never cared to see again.  The rear end of a steer.  Probably the reason my boot was covered in filth.  Then my eyes landed on the boy standing at his head.  Compared to the steer, he was easy to miss, but only because the steer filled the corridor.  The boy could walk down any street in New York, London, or Paris and turn heads.  The evidence of that was how good he looked in his white, button-up shirt and blue jeans - the required dress code that made the rest of us look like country freaks.  He brushed his hair back from his face, his eyes smiling.

"Sorry about that.  Traffic jam."  He motioned to the line of steers in front of him, swinging their tails at flies and stomping in the heat of the stable.

I shrugged, letting my lips curl into a slight smile and hoping my eyes would sparkle as I met his gaze.  "Yeah, well, as long as it doesn't happen again."

He blushed and my heart skipped a beat.  He must have realized I was flirting.  I waited.  His turn.

His chest rose and fell, then he narrowed his eyes at me winked.  "I don't think I can promise that.  After all, it'd be worth it just to see you again."

Now it was my turn.  I felt the warmth of the blood rushing to my cheeks.  The seconds ticking by felt like decades as I tried to think of a reply.  He watched me intently.  "Well, if that's all you want, maybe we can do it without the cows.  Not as stinky."

He laughed.  "I sure hope not!"

"I've never seen you before.  Where do you go to school?"  I kept one ear to my dad - heaven forbid he should come out of the stall now - and prayed the traffic jam would keep the boy here a few more minutes.

"I was at Kenyon Junior, but I'll be a freshman at Oakmount High this fall.  You?"

"Taylor Junior, but I registered at Oakmount last Monday."

"Maggie?!"  My dad was getting impatient.  Lucky for me, the steers were moving forward.  Just one last thing.

"What's your name?"

"David.  David McMillan."  He cast an anxious glance at the line in front of him, then back at me.  "Maggie?"

"Maggie Aldridge."  I smiled, and gave a little wave as his steer led him off down the way.

Maybe, just maybe, I could forgive Tammy for what she'd gotten me into.