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A grumpy city kid, a farm, a dog, and an overenthusiastic cousin... |
| Dan Sullivan glowered at the pile of slimy peas on his plate. They seemed to stare back. “Seriously? You expect me to go live on the farm with Grandma and Grandpa all summer? Why would I want to do that?” “It's good for you,” his mother replied. “We noticed you've been picking up aggressive habits, hanging around in the city. We think you should be in a more wholesome environment.” “Ugh. I don't want to.” “It's not what you want,” his father said. “It's what's better for you. I'm not having you getting involved with thugs and street criminals.” “But Dad! The guys aren't that bad. This is Nashville, not Chicago or New York. I don't spend all day on the street—I'd rather read a book or build Legos. You're the one who told me to get more fresh air.” “What better way than to visit your grandparents? There's no fresh air in the city. You'll have your decent cousin Ryan to hang out with and learn from.” Dan groaned, picturing Ryan's cheerful grin and endless litany of current projects. His cousin's exuberance could be as overwhelming as Barkley, his tail-wagging wire fox terrier. “Yeah, sure. Thanks, Dad. I know I'll have lots of fun out in the boonies.” “Indeed, son.” *** Dan's mom drove him east of Nashville to the small town where her parents lived on a ranch. He spent most of the trip gazing out the window at the flying scenery. At least the home was normal, not some primitive place with an outhouse. Still, farm life was grubby, and they would expect him to do chores. Not that he was afraid of working hard, but… what about rattlesnakes? Would he have to shovel out the horse stalls? Ugh. Last time he visited, he'd been too young to do much. Now, at fourteen, there was no telling. Hopefully… They arrived, pulling past monogrammed iron gates and navigating a bumpy gravel driveway. Barkley galloped to greet them, with Ryan following behind, waving. “Dan! Mrs. Sullivan! We're so glad you're here!” When Dan climbed out of the car, Ryan gave him a bear hug, chattering a mile a minute. “Wait till you see how big the calves are this year! I gotta show you around the garden—Granny’s roses won a blue ribbon at the county fair last fall. Guess how many pies I ate at the pie eating contest?” “Zero?” Dan grumbled, wriggling away from Ryan and reaching for his suitcase. “Only three. Charlie ate seven! Can you believe it?” Dan shook his head, trying to avoid getting jumped and slobbered on by the enthusiastic Barkley as they walked towards the farmhouse. Staying with his grandparents was going to be as much fun as he'd thought… *** Dan hoped to get some reading done that summer; he had a list of books assigned by his English teacher to find at the local library. But Ryan insisted on showing him around the farm and getting him involved in the daily workings. The calves were appalling, leaping against their pens, rolling their eyes backwards and flopping enormous wet tongues out as if they'd gone mad. If there was one thing Dan would have admitted made him a city kid, it was these baby cows. All he wanted to do was get away from them. “They're just hungry,” Ryan laughed. “Here, wanna bottle feed one?” He thrust a sticky, dripping nozzled container towards him. “No, thanks.” Dan cringed away. “Can we see the horses?” At least they'd be more sedate. He wouldn't object to serving their oats, maybe even brushing them. Eventually, Dan established a tolerable routine of morning and afternoon chores. Chunks of time remained to do as he pleased, which usually meant trying to convince Ryan to let him stay in his bedroom, reading or working a puzzle. “You're missing out on all the fun!” Ryan objected. “Don't you want to enjoy fresh air?” “I get enough fresh air doing my chores, thank you.” It never occurred to him Ryan might be lonely. Dan never thought of himself as lonely. There was always something interesting to do when he was alone. One July day was especially difficult. The sun blazed with the intensity of a professional oven. Dan spent the morning feeding and grooming the horses. Then, “We gotta fix the fence line before that thunderstorm rolls in,” his grandfather declared, pointing to a towering cumulonimbus formation in the distance. “Dan, you and Ryan help.” It was hard to believe rain was on the way. The air was humid and still as they sunk fence posts and anchored wire mesh. Thunderclouds darkened, growing ever larger and closer. “This is awful!” Dan leaned on his shovel to wipe sweat out of his eyes. “Can't we wait till morning to finish?” “No.” Grandpa said grimly. “We can't let the animals escape in a storm.” “Hey, we're almost done.” Ryan flashed Dan an encouraging smile. All Dan could do was marvel at his cousin's unstoppable positivity. The last wires were stretched tight just as the first heavy drops of rain began to fall. A bolt of lightning and rumbling thunder heralded the storm's arrival as they rushed indoors. Everyone washed up, had a light lunch and went to nap. Peace descended over the farmhouse. Even Barkley fell asleep on the hearthstone to the soothing sound of drumming rain. When Dan awakened later, the rain had stopped, leaving thick cloud cover and a cool breeze. He yawned, stretched, and reached for his latest book, a rare vintage mystery he'd ferreted out from the library. It would be nice to read outdoors, now that the weather had improved. He grabbed a folding camp chair and climbed the hillside to a quiet wooded spot, where he could look up from his book and see the property spread out below. Dan settled back, enjoying himself after a hard day’s work. He became engrossed in trying to solve the tantalizing mystery at hand within his book. Clues abounded as he plunged into a fictional world. A dog's eager barking snapped him out of the book at a critical, suspenseful moment. He groaned as Barkley came crashing through the brush and plunged headlong into his lap, tail wagging like a wind-up toy. “Barkley! That's enough!” Dan tried to push the dog away. Barkley licked his face. He grabbed the book in his mouth and jumped to the ground to investigate it. “No, stop! Bad dog!” Dan tugged at Barkley's collar and tried to pull the book out of his jaws. Barkley, evidently thinking this was a fine game of tug-o-war, refused to release it. The combination of dog slobber and prolonged yanking caused the book to fall apart into a soggy mess of torn pages. Ryan scrambled into the clearing, waving and hollering. “Barkley found you! Whatcha doing all the way up here?” “Your stupid dog ate my library book! This was the only copy of it in the whole state. They did an interlibrary loan for me, and now it's ruined!” “No need to be so upset,” Ryan said, patting the oblivious Barkley. “It's just a book. He didn't mean any harm.” “Just a book! Is that how you train him?” “Maybe you shouldn't have brought it outside if you didn't want it getting damaged.” “Seriously?! Maybe you shouldn't be running around trying to invade my privacy all the time!” His cousin's cheerfully lackadaisical attitude was driving him crazy. “Don't you think I deserve to have some peace and quiet?” “Aw, chill out already. You want me to pay the fines for the damaged book?” “No! I just want you and your slobbery dog to go away—leave me alone for once!” Without thinking, without even realizing he was willing it, Dan raised his arm and flung the ragged remains of the book at Ryan's head. The other boy ducked. It landed in a crumpled flutter at the base of a tree. There was a stunned silence between them for a few seconds. Ryan raised his hands, backing away. The look on his face made Dan instantly regret his aggressive instinct. Ryan was the first to speak. “Gee, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was upsetting you. Come on, Barkley, let's go.” He turned and trudged down the slope, shoulders slumped. Dan gulped. He wanted to call him back and apologize, but it was too late. How would he explain to his grandparents? What a crude thing to do, like a thug on the street. Dad was right about the bad habits he'd picked up. *** Ryan went ahead and paid the damages for the book. Afterwards, he kept a respectful distance from Dan, a sadness crossing his face whenever they met. He even started leaving Barkley in a shaded pen outside, much to Dan's dismay. When Dan tried to look for Ryan a couple times to offer an apology, he couldn't find him. The feeling of having stolen his cousin's natural joy was unbearable. It made the solitude he'd been craving seem like a haunting burden, something he now had far too much of. One morning, Dan was slouched on the living room sofa, ruminating over how one wrong impulse had sent everything so badly south. Ryan rushed in from outside, face pale, breathing hard. “Barkley dug out of his pen! I can't find him anywhere!” Dan leaped off the sofa, his heart skipping. “Don't worry. We'll find him.” They went out and started looking through every field and pasture, calling the dog's name. There was no sign of Barkley. Dan separated from Ryan and headed towards the wild northern edge of the farm, where it backed up against a mountainous state forest. As he approached the property line, a whimpering came from deep within the brush. Ignoring the brambles slashing at him, Dan shoved through until he spotted Barkley, huddled under a juniper bush in a mess of feathers. The dog's fur was matted with blood. He gasped, coming down on his knees to help. Barkley wagged his tail and tried to lick his hand. Dan scooped the dog up into his arms and spun around towards the farmhouse. He hugged Barkley close, getting dirt, slobber and bloodstains all over himself. It didn't matter. His heart raced as he stumbled downhill. “Hang in there, fella. We're almost home.” Ryan and Grandpa met him on the trail. Ryan walked the rest of the way alongside Dan, who refused to let go of Barkley. “I can't apologize enough, Ryan. If I hadn't made such a stink about the book, you wouldn't have left him cooped up.” “It's not your fault. You're right, I need to train him better. Sure you don't want me to carry him?” “I'm not a city wimp. I can handle it… You… think he'll survive?” Dan's voice shrank as he stared at his wiggling bundle. Ryan patted his cousin on the shoulder with a reassuring chuckle. “Of course he will. Those are mere surface scratches. Nothing to be upset about.” “Looks to me like a hawk attacked him,” Grandpa said. “It's not unheard of, if he was in his territory. Barkley's a scrappy dog, though, and fended him off. He's got that indomitable terrier spirit.” They were right: a bath, a warm blanket and some ointment made Barkley as good as new. He and Ryan were exuberantly inseparable once more, and Dan smiled to see them both. “Did I ever show you Granny's rose garden?” Ryan asked one morning as they did the dishes. “No, I pleaded for solitude,” Dan laughed. “Can we see it?” “Sure! She says you need to learn how to weed it. I'll teach you to identify the weeds—if you don't mind, of course.” “Sounds great. If you two are happy, I'm happy.” Dan bent down to scratch behind the terrier's ears. He was determined to improve his attitude. Ryan and Barkley seemed like an example worth emulating. notes ▼ lyrics to Cowboy ▼ video ▼ |
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