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"Thank you too," I ht, with the stitches and all?"

"Yeah, but use Bag Balm to make your hands slip" He looks around the kitchen to see if I have any, and I point out the distinctive bright green can with the ie of red clover and a cow on the lid "You can take the stitches out in teeks when she’s healed Keep her bag empty I’d continue to ive, anyway?"

"Not that et fro" My eyebrows shoot up "If you had her bred," he continues, "and freshened, you could get that o dry so she’d ovulate I have a bull; no charge, if you’re interested You’d want to do it right away As soon as theis a cow’s gestation?"

"About nine s back into his coat, which he’d laid on the seat of the wooden rocker, and glances around the parlor onceLake Michigan, with the ind blowingto be cold tonight" He pulls on his old brown fedora and goes into the dark

Outside, a crescent moon sits in the branches of the naked oak tree I pull onup at the clear star-filled sky Under the porch there’s only enough coal to fill a one

7

Big Mary

Today the sun shines, a strong wind blows in fro my visit to the MacIntoshes’ I’ht Mrs Kelly always tolda person did for love, but that was before the econoave us so--a few dollars, a side of haet the hint when I return, because I badly need cash for fuel, wood and coal

As I pedal down Wild Rose Road, then along Raccoon Lick and the three more miles into Liberty, I oldenrods still droop in the ditch with the six-foot-high purple ironweed lording it over theeese flies low overhead, and I stop in the road to ad what their species has done for aeons, les seem petty and small They don’t know about wars or stock ive me hope, fill up my heart

I step down hard on the bike’s pedals and push on, but the wind blows in strong gusts, and twice I waver and almost fall off A horse would be nice, I think, but there’s no way I could afford one, and a vehicle like Mr Hester’s is unthinkable

The whole way into Liberty no one passes, except one big truck from MacIntosh Consolidated that almost runs me off the road When I finally arrive at the three-story brick house, I stop to catch htenthe drive, with a few last red roses up the porch rails I park my bike to the side and knock on the back door like a delivery boy I know this isn’t right I should enter through the front, as Dr Blum would do A midwife is a professional, isn’t she?