Louisiana's Song—an excerpt

Chapter One, Shades of Blue (cont'd)

But I play possum. Waterrock Knob sits at the top of the Plott Balsams, over 6000 feet high, and I do aim to take the little ones up there real soon. Folks say you can see Georgia, South Carolina, and some of East Tennessee from the top. But if the truth be told, I’m so dadgummed sick of babysitting I could scream. I’m itching to get out and see the world more than ever, but I can’t say that to Mama or Grandma Horace what with Daddy coming home today for the first time in eight months since the car wreck last August.  I look again for a hint of movement from the smokehouse. “Louise! Time’s up! No fooling! Can’t hide in there forever! Time to show us your masterpiece, girl."

Nothing. The landlady’s skinny cow, Bony Birdy Sweetpea, drowses by the fence behind the smokehouse, swishing at flies with her tail. The little ones named her cause the only name she ever had before was “Cow" and cause of her spare frame. Mama buys Bony Birdy Sweetpea salt bricks and cow feed from the general store down the road called the “Maggie Store," but nothing seems to fatten her up. Me and Louise take turns milking her, but Becksie and Jitters won’t touch milking a cow—not for all the tea in the China, and Grandma Horace says she don’t blame them.