had more Hollywood money than he knew what to do with. After Stan
died, Ed took special pains to be sure the people who bought all the
animals would treat them well.
Stan was a nice man. Seemed only right.' the lights. 'Name's Lester
Steer, and he owns the Main itreet Diner in town.'
'He's a man!'
'Well, of course he's a man,' Paul said, rolling the door shut.
'Never said he wasn't.' The attorney winked at Heather, and she
realized how much she had come to like him in such a short time. 'Oh,
you're tricky,' Toby told Paul. 'Dad, he's tricky'
'Not me,' Paul
said. 'I only told you the truth, Scout. You tricked yourself.'
-'Paul is an attorney, son,' Jack said.
'You've always of to be careful of attorneys, or you'll end up with no
ponies or cows.' Paul laughed. 'Listen to your dad. He's wise. Very
wise.'
Only an orange rind of sun remained in view, and in seconds, the
irregular blade of mountain peaks peeled it away. Shadows spread
toward one another. The somber twilight, all deep blues and funereal
purples, hinted at
'I could have ten ponies,' Toby said. 'Wrong,'
Heather said. 'Whatever business we decide to get into, it won't be a
manure factory.'
'Well, I just mean, there's room,' the boy said. 'A dog, ten ponies,'
Jack said. 'You're turning into a real farm boy.
What's next? Chickens?'
'A cow,' Toby said. 'I been thinking what you said about cows, and you
talked me into it.'
'Wiseass,' Jack said, taking a playful swipe at the boy. Dodging
successfully, laughing, Toby said, 'Like father, like son.
Mr. Youngblood, did you know my dad says cows can do any tricks dogs
can do--roll over and play dead and all that?'
'Well,' the attorney replied, leading them back through the stable
toward the door by which they'd entered, 'I know a steer that can walk
on his hind feet.'
'Really?'
'More than that. He can do math as well as you or me.' The claim was
made with such calm conviction that the boy looked up wide-eyed at
Youngblood. 'You mean, like you ask him a problem, he can pound out
the answer with his hoof?'
'He could do that, sure. Or just tell you the answer.'
'Huh?'
'This steer, he can talk.'
'No way,' Toby said, following Jack and Heather outside. 'Sure. He
can talk, dance, drive a car, and he goes to church every Sunday,' Paul
said, switching off the stae unrelenting darkness of night in that
largely unplowed vastness. Looking directly upslope from the stable,
toward a knoll at the terminus of the western woods, Paul said, 'No
point showing you the cemetery in this poor light. Not that much to
see even at noon.'
