Rebel

I eyed the one called Jim Bob with disdain, wishing I had the energy to charge at him and send him into next year. It was bad enough I’d already had a pain in my gut to put all other bellyaches to shame. Then, he’d come along and dared to shove his arm into a place nothing with two legs and a schnoz like his ever had the right to be. Yeah, like that made the gut-ache better. Not.

I moaned. Even to my own ears, it was a pitiful sound.

“Well, what d’ya think?” Banjo Willy spit chaw juice from the side of his mouth then mopped up his five o’clock shadow with his sleeve. A gap in the new wrangler’s teeth probably made it hard to be neat. It was amusing to watch. His name was amusing, too. Especially since it made no sense. I never heard him play the banjo around the campfire—or any other instrument for that matter. I have to confess, I never understood the whole Wild West name game. It was hard enough to keep track of one handle, no less two.

“It's still gonna be a while.” Jim Bob worked to peel off his glove. “Let’s go rustle up some grub. There’ll be plenty of time before she’s ready. We’ll come back and check her after we get some chow in us."

“She has a name. And only one name at that. It’s Daisy.” They ignored my baleful wail.

Obviously down with the idea of food, Banjo Willy nodded his head with enthusiasm. “Hell, yeah. I’m about hungry enough I could eat a whole damn cow by myself! Chunk off a slab, give it a whisper of fire, and shove it in my mouth.”

What audacity! Meanwhile, Jim Bob wasn’t doing any better at gaining favor, either. He was still on a roll. I guess he wanted to make sure I suffered every conceivable type of indignity. The suddenness of latex snapping off his fingers sprayed my backside with slime. Disgusting! Then, as a parting shot, he smacked me on said rump! It wasn’t hard, but still! How rude! You can bet I bawled him out royally. For some reason, they both seemed to think it was funny that time around. Strange humans. Couldn’t they tell when they were getting a colorful cussing?

“You reckon she was objecting to me wanting to eat a cow? Or was it the fanny slap?” I could’ve sworn Banjo Willy was in danger of giving himself a hernia the way he was hee-hawing. When he finally stopped laughing, he bent over to spit out another mouthful of tobacco juice.

I seized the opportunity and swished my tail with gusto, smacking a few unshaven hairs off his chin. “Ha! Gotcha, you two-legged bozo! That’s what you get for coming so close. With any luck, it’ll teach you a manner or two. Resisting the urge to torment a pregnant lady would be a valuable lesson to learn.” I glared at him.

“Hey, you heifer! That hurt!”

“Hooray! I meant it to.” I bellowed out my response and somehow found the wherewithal to give my head an indignant toss. “And get your labels right. A heifer hasn’t calved, moron, and just what do you think is happening here? Hate to say it, my boy, but you may happen to be in the wrong line of work if you don’t know better than that.”

Banjo Willy picked up a fallen branch. It was puny in girth, about the size of a switch—the kind that would sting something fierce. Then I caught on. From the fiery look in his eyes, I knew precisely what he was scheming. He wouldn’t dare! Would he? Uh oh. Looked like he would.

Jim Bob grabbed Banjo Willy’s arm as it went up in the air. “Nah you don’t. We don’t tolerate that around here. Leave the old girl alone and let’s go eat.”

The old girl part didn’t sit well since I was far from old, but he had stuck up for me. Maybe I could forgive Jim Bob after all for having had his hand up my nether region.

“Did you see what she did? That was intentional, I tell ya.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. In any case, could you blame her if it was? Imagine pushing something weighing sixty or seventy pounds with four legs out of your body. I doubt you’d be a happy camper, either.”

Their voices trailed off as they rode away. Finally, some quiet so I could focus on the business at hand.

Jim Bob was alone when he came back. That was a nice surprise. I’d had enough of Banjo Willy.

I had a surprise for Jim Bob, too. Standing on four wobbly little legs, trying to find dinner, was the source of my earlier pain.

“Well look at you, Daisy Girl.” I rolled my eyes. How did he manage to turn my name into two? “You got down to business while I was gone. Good work!” He rubbed my neck. Ahh, that didn’t feel half-bad. If only I could get him to move up a little higher, to right behind my ear. Getting closer…almost there. I leaned my head a little to the side to help him out. Darn! He didn’t catch on.

“That’s a fine young bull you have there. Yes, indeed. A fine young’un. So what do you think we should call him?”

“Just keep it to one name, will ya?” I lowed, hoping he’d understand.

Jim Bob reached down to scratch behind the calf’s ear. Not what I intended! I meant my ear! While I would’ve loved it, the little guy apparently didn’t want the distraction. He had a one-track mind: suckling. He butted Jim Bob’s hand away.

He chuckled. “Got yourself a rebel there, don’t ya, girl? Hey, how about that? Rebel? Sounds like a good name, doesn’t it, Daisy?”

I bobbed my head up and down. Rebel. One name. That worked for me.