Cows Don’t Lie

The red sun was hanging low in the sky. The heat had built towering cotton candy mansions that glowed proudly with their curling golden edges. The air was thick with humidity and the sky, in all its glorious trappings threatened to dump, like summer afternoon clouds often do. The leaves of the giant oak tree in Mr. Wilson’s yard turned up to show their bellies and the wind tussled the long grass of the open field to her right. Ellie Johnson was hurrying home from visiting her Aunt Billie. Billie was short for Beatrice somehow, but Ellie, whose name was short for Elizabeth, never quite figured out how. Billie, had started tutoring Ellie on Wednesday’s during the school year, and since her mother wanted her to keep up with her academics, even over break, they continued their meetings. This would not have been Ellie’s choice of holiday activity though. She longed to join a summer camp or even just play at the community pool but her mother couldn’t afford it.

Ellie's mom, Eliza Marie Johnson, was a hard working woman with an astounding sense of pride. As a single mother, she was as hard-working as the next ten people combined. She did her absolute best to provide for her girls, but her job as a grocery store clerk at the Piggly Wiggly in the next town over, didn’t seem to cut it. Her home, which was always as clean as could be, even if it meant she would stay up long past her girls were sleeping to see to it, was just another way for her to work her fingers to the bone. She was exhausted and overworked but somehow, she still found the time to let her sense of pride seep into her appearance. Eliza, a former small town beauty queen hadn’t aged a day in Ellie’s eyes. She was a tall, striking brunette, with hazel eyes, long lashes and soft puffy lips which Ellie loved to kiss. She carried herself humbly even though she possessed the figure of a Barbie doll. As far as Ellie was concerned, her mother’s appearance should have been enough to grant her immunity from working. After all, she looked like a princess when she donned her Sunday best. The single men and even the married men at the church would watch her when she walked by but she never gave any of them the time of day. Ellie imagined what would happen, if only a prince could see her.

Despite having grown up poor, Ellie still had what her mother called ‘an alarming sense of imagination’. She loved the stories her mother used to read and each of her favorites had taught her, that the hard working fair maiden, which was, in this story, her mother, would always be rescued. Unfortunately, reality had not matched her expectations. Ellie’s father had left when she was a toddler though, shortly after her little sister Sam (short for Samantha) was born. Eliza told her girls she forgave him because “they were a lot to deal with at first and he just didn’t have the skills” but Ellie never did. She figured, any person who could leave her glowing, beautiful mother was scum, undeserving of peace and understanding. Now at 11, she barely gave her father a thought.

The golden edges had all but disappeared as the sky darkened and grew ominously. Her mother had told her to come straight home after her lesson. She had chosen to stay and help feed Aunt Billie’s chickens instead. She loved the opportunity to play in the barnyard, the chickens in their innocent stupidity always made her giddy. Her life was not always as carefree as one would hope for little girls so Aunt Billie, who farmed eggs for the locals in their quaint rural Alabama town, had made it her mission to let the girls play, even when it was against their mother’s direction. Aunt Billie was a good 11 years older than their mother and always presented herself as though she knew better. Even though all their rebellious fun at Aunt Billie’s was all done in the name of “lightening her sister’s load” Ellie had learned that her mother was, whether or not by sheer luck alone, always right. Mom had probably expected this weather and now Ellie regretted not having done as she was told. “Maybe one of these days she would learn to listen” she could almost hear her mother’s voice saying. There was still a mile or more left to walk now, before she would crest the hill at the Jenkins’ farm and see the one story brick square home with the pale yellow door and azalea bushes waiting loyally for her at the end of the wooded gravel driveway.

She picked up her pace. The green of the trees popped against the slate gray sky. It would be pretty to look at if it weren’t so terrifying. There was a bright flash behind her. Ellie counted slowly, waiting for the thunder. Aunt Billie had taught her to use this trick to find out how far away the lightening was. Eight seconds equals eight miles. She started to run but her backpack of heavy old school books smacked her with every step and quickly began to hurt. Another flash. Five seconds. Ellie scanned the landscape for cover. Large trees lined the road. Mom had told her not to stand under trees in a storm though. At the bottom of the field, there stood two barns. One was a newer, rather large one and beside it sat an old barn she had never noticed. Three miles away now. Being out in a storm like this was so dangerous. She made a mad dash for the newer structure. When she arrived, she tugged at the heavy doors but they were locked. She set her sight on the old barn. The main doors had been removed, or fallen off their hinges. As she went inside, she realized she didn’t even know whose farm this was. She did know most of the neighbors with farms because of her trips to the co-op with Aunt Billie. She enjoyed trading chicken eggs for berries, for corn, for home-made soap. Ellie’s heart raced, partly from the run and partly from being in a strange place. If this were kind old Mr. Jenkin’s big red barn, she was sure she wouldn’t be so frightened.

This one wasn’t shiny and new, it didn’t have big white beams and fancy stalls housing beautiful horses. This one looked like it should maybe be condemned. She hadn’t spent much time taking in the sight but from what she had noticed outside, it sat disheveled in a crowd of overgrown bushes. As she looked around now, she realized its untreated wood would probably not offer much protection from the rain, and there were small gaps where the sky peeked in, buckets sat beneath them knowingly, in anticipation of a job to do. The rain was beginning now. It quickly roared angrily as the drops slapped the roof. The streams of water began to dribble in, then steadily, flowing to their predetermined receptacles. Little droplets bounced out of the noisy metal buckets like sea mist. It wasn’t the rain wetting her but the lightning flashing and the endless barrage of thunder claps which terrorized her. Regretting her decision to ignore her mom and even further cementing her acceptance that mom is always right, she began to cry. She should have been home in her room. She could’ve hid under the covers and snuggled Mr. Mittens, her tabby. Instead she sat alone in this unfamiliar place. She sat on the ground and hugged her knees to her chest. She buried her face in horror and self-pity and sobbed quietly until she felt a warmth on her back.

Ellie turned to find a large brown cow sitting down, now, just behind her. She had no idea where she came from as this barn had not been fitted for cattle. Perhaps she had been grazing nearby and walked in, like Ellie, for shelter. Ellie didn’t know how the cow had arrived, but she was grateful for her presence. Ellie looked into the big dark bulbous eyes and said “Hi, my name is Ellie, what’s your name?” In full expectation that it was going to be a one-sided conversation she continued, “Nice to meet you Miss Daisy” when to her surprise the cow spoke “Actually, my name is Sally” Ellie stood quickly and in one swift movement removed herself by a couple of steps when a loud clap of thunder frightened her to her seat again. She sat, now a few more feet away, staring and wondering if she had bumped her head running and was actually dreaming in a ditch like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz. She blinked hard, swallowed and spoke again “yo-you… did you just speak?” she asked. “Why yes, I know it’s strange Ellie, but I am a talking cow” Ellie just looked at Sally for a bit until she spoke again, “I noticed you coming in here and realized you were likely frightened so I came in to keep you company”. Now, the fear had gone and Ellie was elated. Fairytales were real. A talking cow proved it. Even at the storm persisted, the water spilling into buckets all around her where she sat on the filthy floor of an old barn, Ellie was engrossed in conversation. Not often did the afternoon storms last this long, but as far as Ellie cared, it could go on forever. Sally lived on the farm of a kind man named Henry. She spoke of Henry as a tall, strong man with dark hair and light eyes. He had a big house in the center of his property and his workers brought his goods to market. He didn’t know Sally could talk, she didn’t regularly speak to humans. Ellie felt special to witness such magic. As the hours went by, Ellie grew tired, not of conversation but just tired, as children sometimes do. Sally offered her a place on her flank to rest. Ellie fell asleep curled up with her head on the soft ribcage of Sally.

When Ellie opened her eyes, she found herself looking at the familiar pastel curtains of her own bedroom. Perhaps it had been a dream. But when she went to stand, she felt a pain on the side of her head. She reached up to find a lump under her hair. She gingerly lifted herself from the bed to find her mother asleep in the old armchair in the corner. She kissed her forehead and she awoke drawing her in to a tight hug. “Baby”, she said warmly “I am so glad you’re okay”. Ellie stood in confusion. What had even happened? Her mother knowingly explained “You were walking home from Aunt Billie’s and there was a storm. Henry McCready found you late yesterday evening asleep in his barn and brought you home. It seems you had fallen unconscious from a head injury…” she continued to speak but Ellie stopped listening. Had she had a conversation with a cow though, that was her greatest concern. She was about to interrupt when she noticed something new about her mother, a fresh sparkle in her eye as she spoke about Henry and his efforts to reunited them to one another. “Do you want to meet him?” she asked. “What?” Ellie was confused now. “He is in the living room, I asked him to stay in case we needed a ride to the hospital for your head” Ellie nodded and it hurt “Ok” she said. Mr. McCready was just as Sally described. He stood 6’3”, at least, with dark chestnut hair and kind glowing blue sapphires for eyes. He was pretty, like mom. Her mother looked up at him and smiled. Cows don’t lie and maybe fairytales were real?