Going to Blazes Late on Sunday

Going to Blazes Late on Sunday

“I tell ya Katey we got to be getting another cow soon. She’s not giving up the milk like afore. She's old and tired—“

“Like us, Patrick? She’s been a good cow.” Kate stroked Daisy’s ears. The sweet old cow leaned in to nuzzle Kate like a household pet instead of a dairy cow. “We’ve gotten plenty of cheese and milk out of her we have. You’ll not be butchering her or sending her to the knackers now will ya.”

“Of course not darling. She’s like—“

Flustered, Kate finished his sentence. “Like family Patrick, like family.”

She was overheated.

Sunday service went long and she was still dressed in her finery. October’s Indian summer made the barn almost unbearable. Chicago’s a nice town, she thought, if you can catch a breeze off the lake. The only breeze was the exchange of words between husband and wife.

“if you know what’s good for you, Patrick, you’ll not ship her off,” Kate said in her firm end-of-discussion way.

“Course not… give you me word,” Patrick said. With a wink in his eye, he swatted her rump. “Now, get in the house, finish fixin’ me supper. I’m starvin’ and I can smell the bird on the fire.”

“We’ll be wanting some fresh milk. Go down to the McMahon’s and see if Silas won’t swap a fresh bucket for some cheese? Mind you, don’t take our new bucket. He’s a decent neighbor, but a wily one. He’ll try and cheat you out of it saying he already had some fresh on hand so you might as well swap.”

“I know what to do, woman. I wasn’t born yesterday. Remember you’re talking to an O’Leary.”

“Go on with you then O’Leary… and leave the lamp lit for Daisy. She’s afraid of the dark.”

(300 words)