Anna on the Farm Read online

  Anna holds her nose to block the scruffy old goat's smell. "That's not Billy, is it?" she asks Theodore.

  Theodore looks offended. "Billy's no beauty," he says, "but he's a swell goat. You'll hurt his feelings talking like that."

  "He's got the sweetest disposition of any goat in Beltsville," Homer adds.

  "Why, he'll let you ride on his back just like a pony," Henry puts in.

  Anna remembers how grand the world looked from the back of Nell's horse. But Billy isn't as handsome or as noble as Silver Heels, and she most definitely does not want to ride him. She doesn't even want to pet him. In fact, she wishes she'd stayed on the porch with her book.

  Theodore grins. "Go on in there and let him sniff your hand," he says. "Pet him on the head. Once he gets to know you, he's just as nice as nice can be."

  Henry is laughing too hard to say anything. Anna is sure the boys are up to something, but she doesn't want to look bad in front of Theodore. She goes a little closer to the goat's pen. Once Father took her to see the elephants at the circus. She wrinkles her nose. Even Billy doesn't smell as bad as they did.

  "Just climb over the fence," Theodore says.

  "Why can't I go through the gate?"

  "It's busted," Homer says.

  Anna climbs over the sagging fence, taking care not to scratch herself on the barbed wire. The goat watches her, but he doesn't move. He stays where he is, chewing something.

  The closer Anna gets, the worse Billy looks and the worse he smells. More than ever she wishes she'd had the sense to stay on the porch.

  "Go on," Theodore calls. "Or are you just an old scaredy-cat girl from Baltimore?"

  Anna turns and glares at him. She's trying to think of a good insult, but her thoughts are interrupted by a loud bleat from Billy. She turns and sees him running toward her, his head lowered.

  Nervously, Anna stretches out her hand to pet him. "Nice Billy," she croons, "nice Billy."

  But Billy crashes into her and knocks her in the mud. Anna scrambles to her feet. The boys are howling with laughter. Billy retreats and then lowers his head to charge again. Anna runs. Billy runs after her. She screams. The boys laugh louder.

  Round and round the pen Anna goes, with Billy close behind. Theodore has tricked her. Billy isn't his pet. He isn't nice, he isn't sweet, and he isn't tame. In fact, Billy's a lot like Theodore.

  "Open the gate!" Anna yells at the boys as she runs past.

  But they just stand there laughing.

  Billy catches up with Anna and butts her again. Down she goes, flat on her face in the mud. Billy retreats the way he did before. He stares at Anna. Anna sits up and stares at him. As long as she doesn't move, the goat doesn't move. Keeping her eyes on Billy, Anna scoots slowly backward toward the fence.

  After a while, Billy loses interest. Turning away, he starts nibbling at a patch of weeds.

  Anna reaches the fence and crawls under. Theodore, Homer, and Henry are still laughing. Anna doesn't even look at them. She walks toward the house, head high despite her muddy overalls and dirty face.

  Theodore runs after her and grabs her arm. "Are you going to tell Aunt Aggie?"

  "You lied to me," Anna shouts.

  "It was just a joke," Theodore says. "Please don't tell. You heard what Aunt Aggie said. I'll get a terrible bad whipping from Uncle George."

  "I hope you do!" Anna scowls at Theodore. "It will serve you right!"

  "Oh, Anna," Theodore begs, "don't be mad. Billy didn't hurt you."

  "Come to the barn and watch us swing on the rope," Homer says.

  Anna hesitates. Part of her would truly love to see Theodore get another whipping. Before he tricked her, she'd thought they were becoming friends. Now what is she to believe?

  But swinging on a rope sounds like great fun. If she tattles on him, Theodore will probably never play with her again.

  Theodore tugs at her hand. "Don't you want to see the swing?"

  Anna scowls, but she lets Theodore lead her toward the barn. She's been there before in other summers. The sun shines in long rays through the small windows high overhead. The shafts of light dance with dust. The warm air smells of hay and cows. Anna breathes it in, thinking how sweet it is, nothing like Billy's pen.

  "See that?" Theodore points to a thick rope hanging from a rafter. The knotted end dangles above the barn's hard-packed dirt floor, much too high for Anna to reach.

  "How do you swing on it?" Anna asks, truly puzzled.

  "It's not for girls." Theodore begins climbing up a steep ladder that leads to the hayloft. Homer climbs up after him and Henry follows his brother.

  Anna walks to the foot of the ladder and stares up. Although she would never admit it, she's always been afraid of high places. It's a long way to the hayloft, but if the boys can do it, so can she. She wipes her dirty hands on her overalls and grabs a rung of the ladder. Up she goes, hand over hand, foot over foot. Father once told her never to look down from a high place, so she keeps her eyes on the ladder rungs, but her back prickles as if gravity was pulling at her skin. Her legs feel shaky, too.

  When Anna reaches the top of the ladder, she holds her breath and hoists herself to the floor of the hayloft. She lies still a second, hoping the boys won't see how scared she is. How will she ever be brave enough to climb back down?

  As Anna gets to her feet, she sees Theodore reach for the rope. Homer grabs for it, too. "Let me go first," he yells. "I'm company!"

  Anna shuts her eyes, sure both Theodore and Homer will fall to their deaths on the barn floor. Since Homer is at least an inch taller than Theodore, he gets the rope away from him.

  "Watch me, Anna!" he yells. Gripping the rope, Homer walks to the back of the loft and then runs forward. Without slowing down, he leaps into the air and soars outward.

  "'He flies through the air with the greatest of ease,'" Theodore sings, "'the daring young man on the flying trapeze.'"

  Homer swings back and forth twice, but on the third swing he shouts a wild war whoop and drops into the hay piled on the other side of the barn. Anna watches Homer get to his feet and brush himself off. As far as she can see, he's still in one piece. No broken bones, no missing teeth, no cuts or bruises. He laughs up at Anna. "You want to go next?"

  Anna glances at Theodore and is relieved to see him backing away from the edge of the loft, gripping the rope as if he means to keep it this time. He runs forward like Homer and flings himself into the air, singing the same song about the daring young man. Back and forth, back and forth he goes, and then, like Homer, he plunges down into the pile of hay.

  "Four times," Theodore yells. "Beat that, Homer!"

  Homer scrambles up the ladder with Theodore behind him. But it's Henry's turn now. He waves the rope in Anna's face. "You got to time it just right," he tells her. "If you swing back and forth too long, you'll miss the hay."

  "What happens then?" Anna asks, feeling her knees go weak.

  "You'll fall on the floor and bust your head and all your bones. Your innards will splatter like a tomato somebody threw against the wall."

  With that, Henry goes to the back of the loft and runs forward. He sails out like the others, but after just two swings he lets go and lands in the straw.

  "Cluck, cluck, cluck," cries Homer. "You big chicken!"

  The rope swings back and Theodore hands it to Anna. "Your turn."

  Homer snatches at the rope. "Give it here," he says. "Girls ain't got the nerve for stuff like this."

  But Anna holds on to the rope. Isn't she the only girl in Baltimore who has skated down Bentalou Street, the steepest hill in the city? If she could do that, she can do this.

  "Maybe you should give Homer the rope," Theodore says, suddenly worried.

  Anna shakes her head and goes to the back of the loft. Holding the rope as tightly as she can, she wills herself to run forward and jump, just like the boys. But

  at the very edge of the loft, she falters. Unfortunately, it's too late to stop herself. Anna sails out into the air.<
br />
  "Let go," Theodore yells, "you're going too slow for another swing!"

  But Anna's hands might as well be glued to the rope. While the boys yell, Anna swings back and forth in shorter and shorter arcs. Then she stops swinging and hangs at the end of the rope, looking straight down at the hard dirt floor. It's very far away. As Henry said, she's sure to break her head and all her bones, and her innards will splatter everywhere. She'll never see Father and Mother again, she'll never grow up, she'll never go to Paris. Tears fill Anna's eyes. Surely she's too young to die.

  Just then Anna hears Uncle George shouting, "Hold on, Anna, hold tight!"

  Anna turns her head and sees her uncle way down below. His two field hands are with him. They stare up at Anna as if they cannot imagine how a girl got in such a dilemma.

  "My arms hurt," Anna cries. "My hands hurt, too. I can't hold on much longer."

  Uncle George grabs a horse blanket and tells the men to hold one end. He holds the other. The boys run to help. The blanket unfurls beneath Anna like a net.

  "You can let go now," Uncle George tells Anna. "We'll catch you."

  But it's not easy for Anna to let go. Surely the blanket is too small to catch her. She stays where she is.

  "Please, Anna," Uncle George coaxes. "It won't hurt, I promise."

  Dr. Thompson told Anna the very same thing when he gave her a smallpox vaccination. But it was a lie. Her arm hurt for days afterward.

  Although she tries hard not to let go, Anna feels her hands slip a little bit.

  "Jump, Anna," Theodore calls, "and you can have my share of cherry pie tonight."

  Anna's hands again slip a little and then a little more. Before she knows what's happening, she's dropping through the air. In a second, she lands in the blanket and bounces once or twice. Uncle George is right. It doesn't hurt. No broken head. No broken bones. No splattered innards. Maybe Anna will see Paris, after all.

  Now that Anna is safe, Uncle George hugs her tight. She hears one field hand say, "It's a good thing she's such a skinny little child. If she'd been any fatter, she'd have busted right through that old blanket."

  By the time Uncle George lets Anna go, Theodore, Homer, and Henry are nowhere to be seen. They must have thought Uncle George would spank them all, Anna thinks.

  The field hands go back to work, but Uncle George walks Anna to the house. Her legs are still a little shaky, so she's glad for the company.

  "Did the boys make you swing on that rope?" Uncle George asks.

  Anna shakes her head. "They said girls couldn't do things like that," she tells her uncle. "They said I didn't dare."

  "So you just had to prove them wrong," Uncle George says.

  Anna nods. "Don't tell Father and Mother about the rope swing," she says. "They'll never let me out of their sight again."

  Uncle George laughs. "Your mother would have my scalp if she knew what you were up to."

  Aunt Aggie is waiting on the porch. She's already poured three glasses of lemonade, one for herself, one for Anna, and one for Uncle George. "What was all that commotion in the barn?" she asks Uncle George. "I saw you and Elmer and Joe running like a house on fire."

  Anna clasps her glass of lemonade and closes her eyes. She's afraid Uncle George will tell Aunt Aggie about the swing. Then Aunt Aggie will tell Father, and Anna will spend the rest of her life locked in her bedroom.

  "Oh, the children were just making a rumpus in the hay," Uncle George says.

  Anna opens her eyes just in time to see Uncle George wink at her. She grins and swallows a big gulp of lemonade.

  "If Theodore was teasing Anna, I want you to give him a good thrashing, George," Aunt Aggie says.

  "Theodore wasn't doing anything," Anna says quickly.

  "Where has that boy gone off to?" Aunt Aggie asks.

  "I reckon he went over to Homer and Henry's place," Uncle George tells her.

  "I was so tired of those boys." Anna sighs and picks up her book. "Now I can read in peace."

  ELEVEN

  Market Day

  IT'S THURSDAY NIGHT. ANNA'S WEEK AT THE FARM IS more than half over. Everyone is sitting on the porch, watching the stars come out. Anna is waiting for the moon to swing up above the maples. Soon she'll be sitting on the steps in Baltimore with Mother and Father, looking at the moon and thinking about her aunt and uncle and Theodore far away in Beltsville.

  Just before bedtime, Uncle George asks Anna and Theodore if they would like to go to market with him on Saturday.

  "You must go to bed very early tomorrow, long before dark," he tells them. "And you must get up very early Saturday morning, long before sunrise."

  Anna and Theodore look at each other and grin. Going to bed while it's still light and getting up while it's still dark is upside down, but it sounds like fun.

  Friday afternoon, Anna and Theodore help Uncle George load his wagon with baskets of tomatoes, corn, potatoes, cabbage, peaches, and grapes. It's hard work. The baskets are heavy and the sun is hot.

  After an early supper, Aunt Aggie sends Theodore and Anna upstairs to bed. It's hard to go to sleep. The summer sun slants across the wall and presses against Anna's closed eyelids. Birds sing. Uncle George's dog barks. The day's heat is trapped in the house. Anna tosses and turns. The more she tries to sleep, the more she stays awake. Finally, she gives up and begins to read Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.

  Just about the time it gets too dark to read, Anna falls asleep. The next thing she knows, Aunt Aggie is shaking her shoulder. "Time to get up," she says softly.

  Sleepily, Anna slides out of bed and gropes for her overalls. It's pitch-black darkest night. The moon is low in the sky, just above the apple trees in the orchard. There's not even a glimmer of daylight.

  Anna and Theodore eat their breakfast. They are too sleepy to talk to each other, too sleepy to be excited, too sleepy to open their eyes all the way. Uncle George is outside, harnessing the horses.

  "Run along now," Aunt Aggie tells Anna and Theodore. "Don't keep your uncle waiting."

  Anna stumbles toward the door and staggers down the porch steps. Uncle George swings her up on the wagon seat and sits Theodore beside her. Taking the reins, he clucks to the horses. "Walk on, Bess," he says. "Walk on, Alf."

  The horses are sleepy, too. They walk slowly, heads down.

  "When will the sun come up?" Anna asks Uncle George. She's never seen a sunrise before, not once in her whole life.

  "Sometime around six," Uncle George says. "By then, we ought to be in Washington, D.C., setting up my vegetable stall."

  Anna rests her head against Uncle George's shoulder and watches the sky, hoping to see it turn pink. The wagon bumps and sways over the ruts in the road. Crickets chirp in the dark fields. A small breeze rustles the leaves. Slowly, Annas eyes close.

  When Anna wakes up, it's still dark. They are in Washington, D.C., just outside the market on New York Avenue. Uncle George's wagon is surrounded by other wagons. Horses stamp their feet and neigh. Chickens squawk, a rooster crows, geese honk. Farmers shout greetings to each other as they unload their fruits and vegetables.

  "Wake up, you two," Uncle George says. "Help me set up my stall."

  Anna and Theodore work so hard they miss the sunrise. Anna is disappointed, but Uncle George laughs.

  "My goodness," he says, "don't fret, Anna. The sun will rise tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. Why, that old sun will go on rising long after you and I are gone. You can see it any day if you get up early enough."

  All morning Anna and Theodore help Uncle George sell tomatoes and potatoes, corn and cabbage, peaches and grapes to city people who can't grow their own fruit and vegetables. Some of the women are cooks for rich people, and some are housewives like Mother. They squeeze the tomatoes, they peel back the husks and examine the corn kernels, they sniff the cabbage, they pinch the grapes. If they see a worm, they throw the vegetable back on the cart. If they find a rotten spot in a peach, they throw it back, too. They are just as picky as Mother
, Anna thinks.

  By noon, Uncle George's vegetables and fruit are sold. The customers are gone. At last, it's time to go home. Anna is almost too tired to eat the sandwich Aunt Aggie packed for her.

  Before they leave the city, Uncle George drives the children past the Capitol and the Washington Monument. Neither Anna nor Theodore has ever been to Washington before. They have never seen such grand buildings. The white marble glows in the summer sunlight. Children run and play on the grass. Ladies and gentlemen stroll along wide paths. Pigeons strut at their feet, searching for crumbs.

  As Uncle George turns the horses toward home, Anna and Theodore sit on the back of the wagon. They watch the Capitol shrink to the size of the tiny model

  Aunt May keeps on her mantel as a souvenir of her one and only trip to Washington. Anna promises herself she'll come back when she's older and stroll on the shady walkways, taking in all the sights. Maybe she'll buy a souvenir and keep it on her mantel, just like Aunt May.

  During the long ride home, the sun beats down on the fields. Theodore takes off his shoes and dangles his bare feet off the back of the wagon. Anna's toes feel pinched and her feet are hot. Like Thoedore, she takes off her shoes and lets the summer breeze cool her feet. How will she bear to wear shoes every day when she goes home to the city?

  At last, Uncle George pulls the horses to a stop beside the house. Anna and Theodore jump down from the wagon. At the same moment, the kitchen door opens and out steps Father, shouting, "Surprise, Anna, surprise!"

  Anna squeals with delight and dashes across the yard. Her bare feet fly over the pebbles and stones. She runs up the steps, way ahead of Theodore, and flings her arms around Father.

  Behind Father, Mother cries, "Anna, what are you wearing? What have you done to your hair? Where are your shoes?"

  Anna steps back from Father and stares at Mother. "These are my farm clothes," she says. "Aunt Aggie gave them to me."

  "I sent you here in a pretty dress looking like a lady," Mothers says, her face red. "And now look at you! Anna, what am I to think?"