Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Lexie
Excitement pumps through my veins as I and the rest of my friends cheer at Bridgette’s suggestion. I’ve never seen a real cow up close before, having lived my entire life in the city with no money for fun things like state fairs or trips to the petting zoo.
Grabbing my hand in hers, Tori pulls me toward the doors of the barn. “Come on, Lexie!”
I hesitate just long enough to look back at Mommy, who smiles and waves me on. “Just stay where Mommy can see you, little imp.”
“Okay, Mommy!”
Permission granted, I let Tori drag me inside—where I immediately stop and stare.
There are no animals. At least, not that I can see. Instead there are people dressed like various animals, wandering around on all fours inside little pens.
“Oh they have a new goat!” Dropping my hand, Tori races over to the closest pen and drops to her knees, reaching her fingers through the wire. “Hello, little goat!”
Startled, the woman closest to her, with horns and bright-white ears perched on her head and a fluffy reddish tail somehow attached to her ass—I don’t actually want to know how, considering she’s otherwise completely naked—lets out a short scream.
And promptly faints.
“Miss Bridgette! Miss Bridgette!” Suddenly looking rather panicked, Tori looks around for the tiny woman with the dark hair who met us at the front door.
“Dammit, Sheila,” Miss Bridgette says with a heavy sigh as she comes to stand beside Tori. “Not this again.”
“I didn’t mean to, Miss Bridgette!” Eyes full of tears, Tori looks up at the other woman. “I’m sorry, it was an accident!”
Appearing seemingly out of nowhere, Uncle Max bends down to scoop Tori up into his arms, bouncing her lightly on his hip and shushing her the way one might with an actual toddler. “Shhh, little one. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yes I did!” Tori wails, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I killed her!”
“She’s not dead, sweetheart.” Despite the soothing words, I can tell Miss Bridgette is struggling not to laugh. “Sheila’s decided she’s a fainting goat, the little brat.”
At that, Tori immediately quiets and looks down at the pen where the goat-lady is pushing back up to all fours, apparently unharmed. “A fainting goat?”
“Yes.” Miss Bridgette rolls her eyes. “It’s a breed of goat that screams and then faints when it's startled. Sheila here heard one of my ranch hands talking about them and how funny it would be if we had fainting goats and, well, here we are.”
Bending over the side of the enclosure, Miss Bridgette swats the woman’s ass, hard enough to leave a clear red handprint. “We talked about this, you little nuisance. If you scare any more of the Littles, you’ll be spending the weekend with Jack. Understood?”
All of the color fades from the little goat’s face and she nods her head, letting out a soft sort of bleating sound that Miss Bridgette seems to accept as agreement.
Miss Bridgette gives a sharp nod and pats the goat-lady on the head.
“Good girl. Scottie will be in soon with some fresh hay for you.”
The woman in the pen gives another soft baa and Miss Bridgette turns back to us with a smile, though it’s significantly more strained at the edges. “Sorry about that, Mr. Stone. Sheila is just a little mischievous but she doesn’t mean any harm.”
Unfortunately, Uncle Max does not look appeased by the apology. He’s still cradling Tori to his chest, his expression set in a severe frown. “I understand. But we can’t have the animals going around and scaring the Little ones.”
“Oh, relax, Maxwell.”
My heart skips a beat at the sound of my Mommy’s voice, and I twist my head to find her standing just behind me, her lips twisted up in a wry smile. “Our Tori is no worse for wear. Are you, sweet girl?”
Sweet girl. Jealousy stirs in my gut at the pet name. That’s what Mommy calls me and hearing her refer to anyone else that way has my insides twisting themselves into knots.
Still sniffling, Tori rubs at her eyes and shakes her head. “No, Auntie Cat. I’m okay.”
“See?” Reaching out, Mommy gives one of Tori’s sleek braids a gentle tug. “My little niece is tough. She’s not afraid of anything.”
Uncle Max’s expression softens, but only a fraction. “Be that as it may—”
“Come off it, Maxwell,” Uncle Jasper says with a laugh, and I turn to find him kneeling on the floor beside a woman dressed like a kitten with black ears and a black tail.
Juju is at his side, rubbing her hand over the woman’s bare stomach, while the kitty-girl purrs with contentment. “No harm, no foul. Right, Tori?”
“Right!” Seemingly recovered now from her ordeal, Tori wiggles to be put down, which Uncle Max does with obvious reluctance. Once more grabbing my hand, Tori pulls me past the goat-lady toward the next stall. “Come on, Lexie! Let’s go see the ponies!”
I don’t really want to go with her. I want to stay by Mommy’s side—no, that’s not quite right.
What I want, really, is for Mommy to pick me up the way Uncle Max did so effortlessly with Tori and for her to carry me around the farm while she laughs and tells me what a brave, sweet girl I am because I wouldn’t be scared of a little fainting goat.
But the fantasy leaves a weird feeling in my stomach, one I recognize as guilt. It’s not Tori’s fault I’m too big for Mommy to pick up, and it’s not really her fault she got startled by the goat and her Daddy overreacted.
Setting aside those uncharitable imaginings, I let myself be led to the next set of animals.
Ponies, just like Tori said, or what constitutes ponies in a place like this, anyway.
A man and a woman, standing tall and proud in odd boots that make it look as though they actually have hooves.
Similar gloves adorn their hands, but unlike the other animals I’ve seen so far, they aren’t simply wearing ears but rather a leather mask that covers their entire face.
The mask looks so unnervingly real, I take a step backward—and bump straight into Mommy.
“It’s all right, little one,” she murmurs, crouching behind me with her arms around my waist. “They’re just ponies. Would you like to try feeding them?”
With Mommy’s arms around me, the ponies don’t seem quite as unsettling as they first appeared. “Can they eat with those things on their heads?”
“They can.” It’s Miss Bridgette who answers as she strides up to stand beside me, a warm smile on her face.
“I had the hoods specially designed to be worn all day without restricting their regular activities. So they can breathe, eat, drink water all with no problem. Would you like to try giving them some bits of apple?”
“Yes, please.” Now that the shock has worn off some, I’m feeling bolder.
“That’s my brave girl.” Mommy presses a kiss to my cheek and everything inside me lights up at her praise. “Go with Miss Bridgette. I’ll be right beside you.”
Letting Miss Bridgette lead the way, I follow her back to the edge of the ponies’ stall. The foreman—forewoman?—unlocks a cabinet I hadn’t noticed earlier to reveal a small fridge. She pulls out a bag of freshly chopped apples and places a few pieces in my hand.
“Hold your palm out flat. They don’t mean to bite, but the hood can make it difficult for them to see what they’re munching on, so you want to keep your fingers out of the way.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
My body doesn’t seem to realize we’re not actually approaching a wild animal, judging by the way my heart slams against my rib cage as I step forward, my fingers laying as flat as possible.
Stopping just in front of the enclosure, I hold my hand up, waiting for them to take the wet pieces of apple from my palm.
The horse-lady notices me first, her head canting slightly to the side as she studies me through what I assume are eye holes in her mask. I can’t actually see her eyes, leaving me with the impression that this is a real horse watching me, sizing me up.
Okay, we’re back to that very unsettling feeling from before.
But before I can take a step backward, Mommy’s hands come to rest on my shoulders. “Just hold your hand right there, baby. Let her come to you.”
Considering I had no intention of trying to go to the horse-lady, it’s not a difficult instruction to follow. I stand stock still beside the wooden gate, my arm beginning to ache from being held in the same position for so long.
And then she moves, her long, slender legs lifting high at the knees with each step, and all my worries fade to the background.
She’s beautiful.
“Rosie and Soren are show ponies,” Bridgette whispers as the large white head drops to my palm. Something wet brushes over my skin and a moment later a chunk of apple disappears into Rosie’s ‘mouth’. “We have sturdier ponies meant to pull our carriages, if you’d like to go for a ride later.”
“Oh, yes please,” I whisper in return, my voice breathless with wonder as Soren joins his mate, his movements equally graceful as he bows his black head to take a delicate bite of the apple in my palm.
Miss Bridgette beams at me, then smiles up at Mommy. “What a polite Little girl you have, Cat.”
“Thank you. She makes me very proud.”
Happiness wells in my chest at Mommy’s words, and I hold them close to my heart. Maybe that’s what will set me apart from the others and ensure Mommy loves me best. Maybe if I’m the most polite and well-behaved Little on the island, she won’t need the other Littles around to make her happy.
“Miss Bridgette, Miss Bridgette!” Nelly’s voice rings out, loud and sharp as she comes running up to the stall. “Can I feed the ponies, too?”
Rosie skitters backward, clearly startled by the sudden noise, and Miss Bridgette frowns at Nelly. “What have I told you about yelling so loudly in the barn, Natalie Quinn?”
Pink rises to Nelly’s cheeks as she drops her gaze to the floor. “Sorry, Miss Bridgette.”
“Go tell your Daddy you need a timeout. At least five minutes, and then if you can approach the ponies properly, you may feed them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Head down, Nelly drags herself over to where her Daddy is talking to Uncle Gideon about something and tugs on his sleeve.
When he ducks down to listen to her, the smile vanishes from his face as he sighs and shakes his head.
Taking Nelly by the hand, he leads her out of the barn, and a few moments later comes the distant sound of a Daddy’s hard palm connecting with his naughty Little girl’s bottom, followed by Nelly’s distressed wails.
Miss Bridgette gives a shake of her own head. “I adore that girl, but she’s quite a handful.” She flashes me another approving smile. “Not like our sweet Alexis here.”
Pride once more blooms in my chest. “Thank you, Miss Bridgette.”
Behind me, Mommy gives my shoulders a squeeze and bends down to press a kiss to the top of my head as the other girls all come walking up to ask if they can feed the ponies too, all in noticeably quieter voices than Nelly.
That spark of jealousy ignites in my chest once more as Miss Bridgette praises them each for asking so politely.
I try to ignore those feelings as my friends each feed the ponies, their expressions full of awe even though I’m sure it’s not the first time they’ve done so. Before long, Nelly joins us, her eyes rimmed with red.
“Miss Bridgette, may I please feed the ponies?” she asks softly, earning her an approving smile from the foreman.
“Of course you may, sweetheart. I have a few bits of apple left.”
As Nelly feeds Rosie, Uncle Evan sends an apologetic look Miss Bridgette’s way. “I’m so sorry, Bridgette. I know you’ve had to talk to her before about not startling the animals.”
“I have. Thank you for handling it.” Miss Bridgette runs a hand over Nelly’s hair. “I’m sure it won’t happen again, will it, Natalie?”
“No, Ma’am. I’ll be good, I promise. I don’t want to upset the ponies.”
“I know you don’t, sweetheart.” With another clap of her hands, Miss Bridgette draws everyone’s attention to her. “Now, who wants to go see the cows?”
Five hands shoot in the air, though my friends are all careful not to shout like they did outside and Miss Bridgette laughs. “Come on, then.”
I follow my friends through a door to what basically amounts to a larger barn, with higher ceilings and much more space for the animals to move around, and I stop short again at the sight that greets us.
Really, I don’t know what I was expecting. But for some reason, it didn’t actually occur to me that the cows would be humans as well.
And yet, here they are, curled up in little groups together in various stalls, or watching us with curious eyes as they munch on what appears to be hay.
Before I can fully process what I’m seeing and the implications for what comes next, Miss Bridgette steps in front of us and gives one of those single claps letting us know she wants our attention. “It’s almost milking time, girls. Who wants to help?”