WRITER @Large with flash BLOG
Chapter from Mama Tried to Raise a Lady

Buffalo Girl Dreams
By
RD Larson

I was supposed to be picking wild blackberries. Mama sold baskets to people in town. Selling berries was one way that we put extra food on the table, Mama always told me. Maybe so, but I always thought that the blackberries were food.
Since I had been picking for what seemed a long time and had a lard pail full, it seemed only right that I should take a rest. So I crawled under one of those sweet-smelling brambly bushes to consider my future.
I was going with Pop in the afternoon to look at some Guernsey heifers. We might buy one or two if they were good-lookers. That was my future: learning what to look for in a milk cow.
Mind you, I was going to resume picking berries right a way. Mama would need twelve full baskets by noon the next day. So I was just sort of laying under there, looking up at the blue sky and measuring myself against what my idea of famous cow buyers would be like. I dreamed of buying a whole herd of beef cattle, including an amazing bull, and living in Montana. I would wear a six-gallon hat, and be a buffalo girl. Pop use to sing Mama a song about Buffalo Girls. I was thinking pretty hard about what kind of cow ponies I would have, too.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as a fat lazy bumble bee sailed sluggishly into the berry patch. He flew so slowly that I grinned to myself, thinking maybe he had the afternoon drowsies, too. He clumsily landed on a white berry flower, his ankles thick with yellow pollen. He began to do his work. I went back to thinking about all the cows I would own when I was grown up.
All of a sudden that stupid old bee flew-up; then, fell downwards right into my mouth. Well, I was so surprised that I shut my mouth and captured poor old Mister Bumble Bee alive! Buzz, buzz C he made my ears hum! He made so much noise that I quickly opened my mouth.
But not before he stung me on the tip of the tongue! Off he flew to his private destiny and up I jumped up to mine.
By the time I finished the berries, I couldn't close my mouth because my tongue had gotten so fat. I started to the house, saying a thousand excuses in my head to Mama and saying a thousand reasons to Pop for missing the auction.
"YAYA, Yuck la Yis!" I was trying to say, "Mama look at this." She did take a look at me, sat the bucket of berries on the old blue Formica table, and went straight to the refrigerator.
As she dumped the ice into an old washcloth, she began to laugh.
It wasn't funny to me, of course, because my cowboy dreams were in ashes. I sat at the table, my tongue in a washcloth and tried to imagine what Calamity Jane would have done in such a fix.
My noodle brother came in the house and right before my very hungry nose he made the most perfect peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had ever seen. Mama made him eat it outside, but I could still hear him laughing.
Pop came up from the pump house for lunch. I think he laughed at me, too. But a person couldn't always tell with him, 'cause his cheeks just popped in and out. He always said it was because he was gnashing his teeth at the consternation's of life. But I knew for a fact that sometimes it happened when Pop didn't want to laugh in someone's face.
"Ah gluth HamYuck loo loo," I told him, rolling my eyes and shrugging.
"Never mind homework, Baby Rose, you need to learn about choosing a decent milk cow. Why, you are my right hand man," he told me, resting his hand on my shoulder.
"Ylam a Slaving to Yeath! Yi yant gloo wilth ya." I said.
"Honey, this kid is hungry; give her a big glass of milk; that will tide her over until her tongue goes down. Besides, we'd better get on the road! It's clear out to Fieldbrook at Harrows' farm." He swallowed the last of his salami sandwich and drain his cup as Mama poured thick creamy milk into a tall glass.
My brother came in, jam on his chin, just to nose around. I put my finger on his chin jam, but he jerked away. Sheez, I just wanted to taste it.
I drank my milk as best I could. Pop went on out, after giving Mama a big kiss and a hug. Yuk, I thought, this family is so nauseating, always hugging and kissing. I groaned in hunger and disgust. When I lived on my ranch in Montana, nobody better hug me.
"Tough break, Sis," said my brother. Actually, he said it rather kindly and I had to glare out the window for a moment. Then, he spoiled it. "So I guess bee meat is pretty good, huh?"
I kicked his shin and went out the door by way of a bye-bye hug from Mama. What a life, I told myself as I jumped into the old faded blue pickup as Pop gunned the motor. The pickup bounced down the driveway.