Page 62 of The Body in the Backyard
Roger, who had just stuck his head into the kitchen from the den, slunk guiltily back into the shadows licking his fingers.
“So what’s this surprise, Mom?” Riley asked.
Blossom clapped her hands. “Okay, everyone unhand Uncle Nick so Hesty can show off her surprise.” Hestia, Greek goddess of hearth and home, was the name Blossom had chosen instead of Grandma. However, her granddaughters had shortened it to Hesty.
Nick shed Riley’s nieces at the table next to their sister.
“I drew this for you, Uncle Nick,” River announced, holding up her drawing. It was a series of crayon-drawn diamond shapes encircling two stick figures. “It’s you and Aunt Riley. I couldn’t get the pretty glitters the right color, so I went with orange.”
“Wow, Riv. That’s a cool drawing. It would be even better if the artist signed it for me,” he said. Over River’s bowed head, he pointed at the drawing. “I got a drawing, Mr. Gabe. What didyouget?”
“We wove him matching drink coasters,” Rain announced.
“Yes. I received handmade gifts from the heart,” Gabe said with just a hint of smugness.
“You annoy me on so many levels,” Nick said.
Blossom clapped her hands like a kindergarten teacher. “Save the testosterone-fueled grudge match for dinner, and move your rear ends to the backyard.”
“Is it another cow?” Riley asked her sister out of the side of her mouth.
“Oh, it’s worse,” Wander whispered cheerfully.
Blossom wrestled open the door, and Burt shot out like a bullet. “Be careful with my babies, Burtie boy,” she called after him.
“What the—” Nick’s sentence was abruptly cut off by a white feathery thing that bounced off his head. With lightning-quick reflexes, Gabe snatched the flying object out of the air.
A head emerged from the ball of fluff, then bobbed. Dull, emotionless eyes blinked at Riley.
“Oh boy.”
It was a fat feathery chicken.
“Why did you hit me in the face with a chicken?” Nick demanded, rubbing his stubbled cheek.
“I did not hit you in the face with a chicken,” Gabe insisted. “I saved you from being further attacked.”
“You didn’t save me. You intervened before I could react,” Nick complained.
“If your reactions were not so slow, I would not have had to intervene,” Gabe pointed out.
“They’re just a little wound up,” Blossom insisted, wringing her hands like a nervous mother.
“They?” Riley repeated and glanced around the backyard.
“Well, you can’t expect me to get just one. She’d be lonely,” her mother explained.
The squawking bird in Gabe’s huge hands was not the only fowl in the backyard. Daisy the cow morosely munched on a patch of grass while a clucking chicken clung to her back and pecked at her haunches. Burt galloped around the swing set, barking joyfully at the pair of brown birds squatting obliviously atop the sliding board. A small banty rooster strutted out of the remains of Blossom’s vegetable garden. He gave them all a dead-eyed stare and crapped on the grass.
“That’s Mr. Feathers,” Blossom said, gesturing to the rooster.
“Wow. That’s a lot of…poop,” Riley noted.
“Apparently chickens shit all day every day,” came her father’s disgruntled commentary from inside the house.
She didn’t need to be psychic to know her dad wasn’t pleased with the new additions to the family.
“A coodle doodle do,” Mr. Feathers warbled.
