What the Moon Said (4 page)

It was a happy song, just right for this happy, happy day.

ESTHER WAS DISAPPOINTED WHEN MA
announced that school would have to wait for a few days.

“First we clean. Then we unpack.
Then
you go to school,” Ma said firmly. She wrinkled her nose as she eyed the house. “You can tell it was a man without a wife who lived here. No woman would let a house get so filthy.”

Esther and Violet swallowed their groans and rolled up their sleeves. They swept and scrubbed and polished until Esther was sure her arms were going to fall off. She was grateful when Pa called her to help with some of the outdoor chores. They had to be much easier than housework.

But she quickly learned that nothing about farm life was easy.

She learned, for instance, that not all hens willingly give up their eggs. Some, like the scruffy brown speckled hen, actually fought to keep them! And the two geese were even nastier than the hen. They ran at her with snapping beaks when all she wanted was to feed them. “Stupid birds,” Esther told them. “You should be grateful.”

“Why do we need geese anyway?” she demanded of Pa, rubbing a pinched thigh tenderly. “We don't eat their eggs.”

“But look,” Pa said, picking up a fluffy feather from the ground. “Ma will use their feathers to make soft pillows and warm quilts. This is good, yes?”

Esther just sighed.

Feeding the pigs was not scary like collecting the eggs or feeding the geese. The little piglets tumbling and grunting in the straw were even kind of cute. But the smell in their pen was disgusting. Esther learned to take a deep, deep breath before she opened the door of the pig shed. She held her breath all the while she poured the pail of slop into their trough. She tried not to breathe until the pail was empty and she was safely outside again. But sometimes she ran out of air—ugh!

She would much rather have fed Fritz and Bruno, the horses. Bruno, especially, was her pet. He already recognized her and nickered whenever she came into the barn. She'd even gotten to ride him for a few minutes with Pa looking on. Bruno's back was so wide, she had to hang tight to his mane and hug hard with her short legs or she would have slid right off. But oh, it was glorious to be on a horse at last.

Esther would also have gladly fed and milked the cows—Daisy, Buttercup, Rose, and Petunia. They were sweet-natured, slow-moving creatures with mournful eyes. They didn't fight to keep their milk or bite when they were being fed.

But Pa took care of the barn animals himself. They were too important to trust to anyone else. Without the horses he couldn't plant or harvest crops. He couldn't get to town for supplies. Without the cows they'd have no milk to sell or to drink. The barn animals and the barn that sheltered them had to be kept safe from all harm. That's why when Esther went to tell Pa dinner was ready that very first Sunday after church, she'd found him on a ladder in the barn doorway.

“What are you doing, Pa?” Esther had called up to him.

Pa looked down at her. “Hanging this.” He held up a horseshoe. It was so new, it sparkled in the sunlight that poured through the haymow window.

“But why?” Esther asked, craning her neck to see better.

“For protection,
Liebling,
” Pa explained. “And for good luck.” He pulled a hammer from his belt and tapped in first one nail and then another. Then he hung the two ends of the shoe between them so it made a U
.

“Isn't that upside down?” Esther called up to him.

Pa rubbed his thumb over one tip of the horseshoe before he started down the ladder. “No, it's just right,” he assured Esther. “The good luck stays in the shoe instead of spilling out like it would if it were hung the other way.”

Esther sucked in her breath. “How do you learn these things?”

“My pa told me, just like his pa told him.” Pa had both feet on the ground again. He smiled at Esther. “Just like I am telling you.” He rubbed the end of her nose with his thumb—the same thumb he'd rubbed on the end of the horseshoe. “There. Some good luck for you.”

“Thanks, Pa!” Esther gasped. She was so excited, she almost forgot to tell him about dinner.

From that moment on, she had been waiting impatiently to see what kind of good luck was going to come her way.

That had been days ago, though, and nothing very nice had happened yet. In fact, that very morning had started out with Violet breaking the little mirror Julia had given her. Seven years' bad luck! And if bad luck came to Violet, who was never far from Esther's side, how likely was poor Esther to escape it?

Then Grumpy the goose had nipped her leg not once but twice! Esther didn't say anything to Pa because she didn't want to hurt his feelings, but she was beginning to doubt the power of his lucky horseshoe.

She was limping back to the farmhouse when she suddenly halted. Surely she had just seen a dog disappear around the side of the house! Heart pounding faster, she stood still as a fence post, watching. A few moments later, a white-and-orange head peeked around the porch.

Esther wanted to jump up and down. She wanted to shriek for everyone to come see what she had found. But the dog was already frightened. She couldn't risk scaring him away. She forced herself to be still, and she extended one hand invitingly. “Here, boy,” she called softly. She didn't know if the dog was a boy or a girl, but she had to call it something.

The dog took a few cautious steps toward her. He had a white and rust-colored coat, a long pointy nose, and ears that stood straight up except at the very tips. His plumed tail swished shyly back and forth.

“Good boy,” Esther encouraged him. “Come on.” She squatted down and made a clucking noise with her tongue. “Come, boy.”

The dog inched closer, tail still slowly swishing but head lowered uncertainly.

“It's all right,” Esther reassured the dog. “I won't hurt you.”

He couldn't have understood the words, but he seemed to understand the feeling behind them. The dog came the rest of the way to Esther. He thrust his muzzle into her outstretched hand and licked it. Esther was so thrilled, her heart nearly stopped.

“So, you have found a friend.” Pa's voice came soft behind her.

The dog raised startled eyes. Esther threw her arms around him so he wouldn't run away. “I can keep him, Pa, can't I? Please. Please!”

Slowly Pa came and squatted at Esther's side. He frowned. “Dobbs never told me he was leaving him. I hired the neighbor boy to feed the animals until we came. But I never said anything to him about a dog. He must be hungry.”

Esther hugged the dog closer. Suddenly, beneath his shaggy coat, she felt ribs poking up under his skin. Horrified, she leaped to her feet. “We have to feed him fast, Pa! He's starving!”

“Easy,
Liebling,
” Pa said, laying a hand on Esther's shoulder. “You will frighten him.” He stood up. “Wait here. I will be right back.”

Esther watched impatiently as Pa strode into the house. She knelt down again to encircle the dog's body with her arms. “Don't worry, boy. You'll have something to eat soon. I promise.”

But a moment later, Ma appeared in the doorway. Esther's breath caught in her throat. Ma was going to tell her to shoo the dog away! That's what she always did when Esther brought home stray dogs and cats. She probably had told Pa not to feed him, either.

Esther could imagine it plainly.
“Nu,”
she must have said, “we have no food to waste on dogs. Besides, if we feed him, he will never go away.” She always said that in the city, adding, “Don't worry. He will find food somewhere.” And in the city there were lots of other people to take pity on an animal. But here there was only them.

Esther tightened her hold around the dog. She watched Ma come nearer and nearer. Esther squeezed the dog so tight, he whimpered and tried to pull away. “I'm sorry,” she said quickly. She loosened her grip a little and scratched behind the dog's ears to keep him still. But her eyes never left Ma. Esther's heart thudded faster still. She would die if Ma told her she could not keep this dog. She would truly die.

Ma stopped in front of Esther. She frowned and Esther went cold all over.

“Please, Ma,” she burst out. “It's the country, not the city. Please say he can stay. Please!”

Ma shook her head, and Esther's last flicker of hope died.
“Nu,”
Ma said, “why do you cry?”

Esther blinked. She hadn't realized she
was
crying until Ma told her. Hastily she wiped her eyes on the back of one hand. But the other hand held tight to the dog. He was looking up at Ma, wagging his tail. He didn't know Ma did not want him. He didn't know she wanted to send him away. His brown eyes were full of trust.

“At least let me feed him,” Esther begged. “I promised him food. He's really hungry, Ma, and there's nobody else, and—” Esther stopped abruptly as Ma held up one hand.

“Hush,” said Ma quietly. Then she did a strange thing. She reached out and stroked the dog's head.

Esther blinked in astonishment. “But I thought you didn't like dogs.” The words popped out before Esther could stop them.

Ma raised her eyebrows at Esther. “I don't like dogs in the city,” she said firmly. “But on a farm it is different.” She smiled as the dog licked her hand. Then she took a step backward and nodded. “He will make a good watchdog.”

Ma had turned and started back to the house before Esther could believe she'd heard right. The dog could stay. He could STAY!

The screen door banged, and Pa came out carrying two beat-up tin pans. One was filled with water. The other was filled with food—a few bits of leftover bacon, chunks of bread, and oatmeal. The dog's nose quivered as he smelled the food. He whimpered.

“Can I give it to him, please, Pa?” Esther begged.

Pa handed the tins to her. The dog was so excited, he bumped Esther's arm. A chunk of bread fell. No matter. He snatched it up, swallowed it in one gulp, and dived for the pan, now safely on the ground. In amazement, Esther watched the dog gobble up everything in just a few seconds. He licked the tin until it shined. Then he looked up as if hoping for more.

“He's still hungry, Pa,” Esther cried.

But Pa shook his head. “Too much now would make him sick. You can give him more later.” He patted the dog's neck. “I think Dobbs called him Mickey,” he said.

It was not the name Esther would have chosen for her dog. She would have named him Prince, or King, or maybe even Rinty. But the dog's head had turned. His tail was wagging. It was plain he recognized his name. It would be mean to change it.

Esther knelt down on the ground. “You're my dog now, Mickey. What do you think of that?” she asked. Her answer was the slurp of a tongue across half her face and all of one ear. She giggled and hugged her dog tight. The horseshoe had been good luck after all. The very best good luck she'd ever had.

Esther thought she couldn't be any happier. But that night, Ma announced that Esther and Violet could go to school the next day. Esther dashed out to the yard to tell Mickey the good news and turn two cartwheels under the stars. When she came back inside a few minutes later, she saw Violet frowning into the parlor mirror.

“Will you trim my hair, please, Ma?” Violet asked. “It's gotten all straggly.” Violet was very proud of her short bob. It was the latest fashion and didn't cost a cent.

Ma was measuring the kitchen window for curtains. She glanced outside before she nodded. “The moon is right. Go get the scissors.”

Esther crinkled her eyebrows. Here was another example of the moon's importance. According to Ma, hair should only be cut when the moon was “growing.” This would make the hair grow in thick and healthy. Lucky for Violet, the moon was waxing now. She got her haircut. Esther didn't want a haircut, but Ma decided to trim her hair, too, since she was barbering.

Esther had to stand straight and still. She couldn't fidget at all or Ma would scold. But sometimes the falling hairs tickled. It was impossible not to squirm a little.
“Nu,”
Ma said in exasperation, “how can I cut when you dance and jiggle?”

When the haircut was finally finished, Esther fled to her room. She was startled to find Violet there crying stormily into her pillow. “Vi! What's wrong?” Esther hurried to her sister. “Are you hurt? Should I call Ma?”

“No!” Violet sobbed. “Don't call anybody. I don't want anybody to s-see me.”

“Why? What's wrong?” Esther demanded.

For answer, Violet slowly raised her pink-blotched face from the pillow.

At first all Esther could see were tears. She peered closer. “I don't see—” Then she gasped. “What happened to your eyelashes?”

Violet's face crumpled. “I c-cut them.”

Esther was astonished. “But
why?
”

“So they'll g-grow back thicker and l-longer,” Violet explained between sobs. “Like my hair. But I didn't know how aw-aw-awful I'd look . . .” She shook her head. “I should have known not to do it. It was a stupid thing to do after breaking a mirror this morning. I'll probably be ugly for seven years!” Violet flung herself back into her pillow, sobbing even louder than before.