The first chapter to Pig Out!

1.

At midnight, the arctic blizzard from Canada slammed into the Cunningham's valley. Moses lay in his bed and felt the walls of the farmhouse shake as the wind moaned heavily. He tried to sleep but someone kept calling his name. At first he thought it was the storm sounding like a voice. But then he realized he wasn't exactly hearing it in his ears. There it was again: “Moooooooooses....Moses!”

He got up, the blue flannel nightgown brushing against his legs as he padded down the short hallway to where his mom and dad slept. Carefully Moses eased open his parents' door so the noise he heard when his dad rose at 5:00 a.m. every morning to feed the livestock wouldn't startle them. But half way open, the door shuddered its familiar high-pitched creak.

Leona, always a light sleeper, pushed up on her elbow. “Moses?”

How would he tell his mom? Why had he come in here in the first place? She would only think he was hearing the usual bumps in the night that sometimes sent him fleeing from his room into their bed. But he hadn't done that for a long time. Now that he

was almost ten, he had his pride. Even though he was scared sometimes by a hoot owl or the tree branches scraping against his window, he always stayed in his bed. But this was different.

“Moses?” she was out of bed, kneeling beside him in the hallway, outlined in the night light shaped like Batman.

In answer, he took her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen. “What is it?” she whispered, “are you alright?”

To reassure his mother, Moses tried to speak. But as usual all he managed was a little squeak. So he shrugged and walked through the kitchen into the boot room where the coats and hats were hung. His dad's rubber work boots sat on the linoleum beside his own. He sat and pulled on his boots.

“Moses...you can't go outside...it's freezing, honey...there's a storm. What's going on?”

As usual, Moses knew his mom worried a lot about him. She tried to hide it. But he knew when that certain tone came into her voice. She tried to pretend it didn't matter Moses couldn't talk like other kids. He was permanently dumb. And that is what others called him, the dummy.

Moses tugged on his work jacket and red stocking cap and handed his mother the Coleman lantern. He made a motion for her to light it.

“Stop this,” Leona had had enough. She fetched the small blackboard which his father had made for Moses on which he drew pictures of what he wanted and printed his misspelled words. “Tell me what's going on.”

“Mooooooses!”

Suddenly Moses knew. He took the chalk and wrote on his board: “Rita.”

Leona read it and frowned. “The milk cow?!”

Moses nodded. He wasn't sure. But it felt right.

“Honey, what's this all about? Are you worried about Rita?

Daddy locked her in the barn. Nothing's gonna happen to her.”

Moses took the tablet and wrote: “Baby.”

“I know she's going to have her baby, honey. That's why we're keeping her in the barn. It's nice and warm there.”

Moses shook his head slowly side to side. He wrote next to Baby “help.”

Leona read that and stared at her son. Even in the dim light, his dark eyes bore into her. What did he know?

From the very first moment Moses was born, Leona knew there was something special about him.

“Was it hard?” Josh had asked, seeing his son for the first time..

“No, no. Doc Bishop said I was born to have babies.”

“We tried long enough for him,” Josh tried to smile. He pulled back the little cotton blanket and there was his son's round, perfect face. He was bald except for a little patch of black hair, his eyes dark and captivating.

“He's got your eyes,” Josh said. “And your hair. Thank God. He won't lose his by my age.” He made a joke by ruffling his sandy hair at Leona, but he was avoiding what was coming.

“Your hands...long fingers,” Leona held up a little fist.

Josh saw her eyes suddenly tear and she swallowed hard. “When he was born, he didn't cry. Just made a squeaking noise. He makes it every time he tries to cry.”

“I heard that,” Josh took her hand.

“Doc thinks his voice...it's not right.”

“He's a handsome boy, Leona,” Josh tried not to choke up.

“He's beautiful...he's ours...”

“Yes...” He bent down and kissed his son. “It doesn't matter...”

“Let's not start off this way,” Leona said, her eyes setting in that determined way when she would not accept nonsense. “We have to be realistic here. The doc examined him. He doesn't have...normal vocal cords...it's why when he cries he squeaks.”

Josh said. “We can fix him, make his voice so he can talk and cry and yell like any other little boy.”

But despite consulting surgeons, therapists, once even a healer, Moses never did talk. Still as he grew, there remained that specialness about him. When the kids cruelly called him names, Moses smiled back, the smile never revealing the hurt inside. And Leona noticed that Moses was drawn to others like him who could not speak, especially the farm animals. Between them, there seemed an almost immediate understanding.

That was why, even hearing the blizzard howl outside, Leona felt for the stick matches on the top shelf and lit the lantern. Pulling on her down jacket and boots, she and Moses moved quickly through the boot room, pulled the front door of the house open and stepped out into the subzero storm.

Briefly, she checked the thermometer mounted beside the front door. Every farm had one. Sometimes it was the key to survival in sudden and unexpected weather and farmers read it routinely upon entering or leaving the house. The red-stained mercury was huddled near the bottom of the tube: -15 degrees. With wind chill, Leona estimated it was probably -40 degrees below zero and falling. They could not last long out here. She thought of returning to awaken her husband but it would only make matters worse with Josh. He was talking more and more about how she was spoiling Moses by protecting him and his odd ways.

Moses gripped her hand as his mother led the way toward the barn. Even though she held the lantern before them, they could not see beyond the light. In the gale, the blowing snow flew horizontally at the lantern's globe as though trying to extinguish the flame inside. The snow was knee deep. Normally, the barn was visible from the house but now they bent their heads and went in the direction Leona thought it must be.

The voice became more frantic, choking, calling Moses's name in terror. It made him want to run ahead. But the thought of leaving his mother made him only walk faster.

Moses sensed that his mother was growing frightened.

“Where's the barn?” she kept repeating. “We should have been there by now!”

Had they had walked too far in the blinding storm and somehow missed the barn?! Suddenly the lantern banged the red wooden lathes of the barn and they were saved! With frozen fingers, Leona fought the hook on the door and flipped it up. They stepped inside and she pulled the door shut behind them somewhat muting the howling wind outside. The smell of freshly cut alfalfa filled the barn and in the light, Moses and Leona could see the green bales stacked to the roof high above.

Breaths steaming from their mouths, Leona lifted the light past the stalls filled with soft straw. But the barn was empty, except for the old white mother sow who was about to have her piglets. She stirred and grunted at them as they passed, but was too lazy to get to her feet.

“Where's the Holstein?” his mom wondered.

A slamming noise at the rear of the barn made them turn. Moses ran in the bouncing light held by his mom as both stopped at the back door which was banging in the wind.

“Rita's gone!” Leona gasped. “But that's impossible! She was here just before supper! Musta panicked when she started to have her baby.”

Abruptly, she turned to Moses, realizing he had known and was right all along.

Moses started out of the flapping barn door.

“Moses, no!” she screamed. “We'll never find her, Moses. It's too dangerous!”

But Moses was running, his back vanishing like a magic act in the blowing white.

Leona's knees went weak and her stomach felt hollow. She rushed out, crying, “Moses! Stop!”

The voice was growing smaller. Calling him. Begging him

to help. Moses stumbled across the barnyard, moving on instinct in the dark. His shin struck the hitch on the tractor. Pain shot up his leg and he hopped away, falling backwards on the black and white milk cow.

Realizing she was lying down, Moses put a hand on Rita.

She was very still, her hide stiffening and almost frozen.

“Moses!” he heard his mother call behind him.

He turned, grabbed his mother's arm and pulled her to where Rita lay. She raised the lantern and saw that the cow was dead. Her open eyes, like all cows were capable of doing, had cried long tears, frozen in trails down her cheeks.

“There's nothing we can do!” Leona screamed over the wind.

She watched Moses listen as if hearing something. He wheeled to the tractor. Stepping up on its metal hitch, he opened the tool box. In the stinging snow, she raised the light and saw him fish around inside the metal chest, among the screwdrivers and wrenches that Josh always kept handy, then pull out a hammer and chisel.

“Moses, stop it! What are you doing?!” she grabbed his arm but he pulled away from her and gestured toward the dead cow with the chisel.

“Your mother's right, son,” his father suddenly stepped into the lantern's light. He knelt beside the milk cow. “She's gone, son...there's nothing we can do here.”

Moses stretched the hammer and chisel out to his dad. Josh looked puzzled.

“The baby calf!” Leona shouted. “It was calling to him!”

“He's hearing things!” Josh yelled in the wind. “The mother's dead! And there'd only be enough oxygen for a minute or two in the umbilical cord to keep the baby alive!”

But Moses refused to budge. He stubbornly held out the hammer and chisel to his father.

Joshua Cunningham knew it was all in vain. But something so certain in Moses's steady and unwavering eyes and the way he kept shoving the tools at him, made him waver.

“Alright, I'll try! But it's not going to do any good! And I can't do it with an edge tool!” Joshua took the hammer and chisel. “Go back inside the barn where it's warmer! Go on! I'll be there!”

Moses saw his father throw the tools back in the metal chest and grab a scissors-like tin snips. He quickly knelt beside the milk cow and cut through her stiff, black and white hide. Leona pulled her son away but Moses hugged her, determined to stay and watch.

With each snip, Rita's skin opened, finally revealing her womb. When the cut was wide enough, Joshua grabbed deep inside Rita. With all his might, he pulled out little legs. Tugging gently, he eased a steaming, unmoving form out of his mother. A calf appeared, beautiful black and white. But its eyes were closed, white nose and mouth covered in birth mucus.

As Moses watched, his dad cut the umbilical cord, then put a finger inside the calf's mouth and cleared its throat. Putting his big hands on the baby calf's side and using his full weight, he pressed down on her lungs. The little creature jerked its head up and bawled in protest. In amazement, Josh scooped up the calf and carried it behind the light held by Leona toward the barn.

Once inside, he set down the new born and stepped back in disbelief. “Well, I never...” he shook his head.

The calf fought to its feet, looked around then wobbled over to Moses. She buried her face in Moses's stomach.

His mother laughed nervously. “Like she's thanking him.”

“We better feed her,” Joshua said gruffly to fight the catch in his throat. “I'll get the poor thing some milk.” He picked up several empty burlap potato bags and handed them to Moses. “Better dry her off with these, son.”

“Moooooosses!” the calf rubbed against him.

Leona saw the calf look straight at Moses who was smiling and nodding his head while he brushed her.

“It almost looks like she's...talking to you,” his mom told him.

Moses wrote with chalk on his slate, “Is.”