in the pigpen. And these animals—brutes, all of them! They snorted and pushed and gobbled and drooled in such disgusting, sickening ways. And the stench! Wishing she had on a protective face mask, Jane tried not to inhale too deeply as she distributed grain, old fruit and wilted vegetables to a passel of grunting, rooting animals.
This was not exactly the industrial-sized operation of a real pig farm; it was more like a few sows and one very-pleased-with-himself, ton-sized boar hog who’d obviously sired the twenty or so squeaking, squealing piglets of various sizes and shapes. No, this was more like an old-fashioned pigsty.
And it smelled worse than anything Jane had ever sniffed in her life.
Reminding herself that she had to get through this first test in order to show Lenny she had staying power, Jane tossed more pig feed into a dirty metal trough and waited for the onslaught of muddy sows and squealing older piglets. Gingerly stepping out of the way, she turned to survey the round pigpen. This was the last of the feed and every trough had been filled. Her work here was done.
Turning with a satisfied smile on her face, she saw Lenny sitting on the wood-and-wire fence, grinning at her, the smirk of his trickery evident on his face.
“How’s it going out there, Coach?”
Jane held her pristine smile in place, in spite of the thumping beat of elevated blood pressure in her temples. “Just dandy.” She sneezed. “These piglets are so adorable.” Then she added a few choice suggestions. “Tell me, though, have you ever considered using sow stalls or gestation crates to lower your birth production costs? And what about iron? Are these piglets getting daily doses? You know, you could probably produce a better pig if you take my advice.”
The proud smirk left Lenny’s face as he hopped off the fence and came stomping through the mud toward her. “This isn’t some mass market pig farm, Ms. Harper. This is just me—trying to do what my granddaddy always did—raise a few animals for meat.”
Jane gasped. “For meat? You mean you’re going to send all of these cute little pink pigs to the slaughterhouse.”
His laugh was as coarse as a hog’s snort. “Of course. That’s what the fancy farms do. Or did you think I was raising them for pets?”
Jane glanced around, eyeing one particular little runt who couldn’t seem to get anywhere with either the grain or his mama sow’s offers of dinner. “But, Lenny, look at him. He’s so precious. You can’t mean to send him into such a horrible death.”
“Now don’t go all PETA on me,” Lenny said, reaching out to take the empty grain bucket from her. “This is just a way of life on the farm. Always has been.”
“But Precious there shouldn’t have to give his life just so you can have bacon for breakfast.”
He glared at her then frowned at the struggling little piggy. “That pig’s getting all he needs from his mother. He’s growing up just fine. I let him out of the stall last week. He’ll be all right until he’s full grown. So stop worrying over him like an old mother hen. Besides, that sow isn’t exactly fawning all over the little runt.”
“You obviously know nothing about a mother’s love for her child,” Jane said, trying to find his sensitive side.
That tack didn’t work.
His glare changed into a look Jane would never forget. He stepped toward her, then stepped back, his face red with anger, his eyes igniting in a blue-colored flame. “You have no idea what I know about that,” he said as he reached to yank the bucket from her.
Jane held it back, realizing she’d stumbled onto something that Lenny had buried deep inside himself. “I’d like to know all about you.”
“I’m warning you to stop,” Lenny said. “Don’t ask me another question. I don’t want you picking my brain.”
She had one more question that needed to be asked. “About clutter or your mother?”
That did it. He grabbed for the bucket while Jane stepped backward to keep it from him. Just as he caught at the old, dirty bucket, his foot slipped in the slimy mud. He moved in slow motion toward Jane, his hand reaching for her arm. Then she started slipping with him, right into the middle of all the piglets.
Jane tried to stop the fall, but it was too late. And Lenny, realizing what was about to happen, tried to keep them both balanced. But his efforts were in vain. All he could do was hold on as they both slid with a sickening thud right into the dirty wallow of pig heaven.
“Oh, no,” Jane screamed as the bucket went in one direction and her legs went in the other. “Lenny!”
He held her close enough to manage to take the brunt of the fall, but before it was over they were tangled together in wet, coffee-colored mud. With squealing, pushing hogs and pigs all around them.
Jane looked up to find Lenny’s eyes on her, his expression bordering on confused and contrite. “Are you all right?” he asked, huffing as he tried to sit up.
But he kept slipping back down and taking her with him. Jane screamed then tried to stand. She felt as if she were caught in quicksand. “Uh, oh. I can’t—”
Then they heard a deep-bellied grunt, followed by the sound of agitated boar flesh heading in their direction.
“Lenny?” Jane managed to point with one mud-caked finger toward the boar. “Is he mad?”
Lenny glanced over his shoulder then said something underneath his breath. “You bet he’s mad. And so am I.”
But, mad or not, he found the strength to pull both of them out of the mire. “Get behind me,” he shouted as he tried to block her from the rooting boar.
Jane did as he said, while Lenny grabbed the bucket and threw it to ward off the attack.
“Now what?”
“Now, we run,” Lenny shouted as he pushed her toward the fence. “Go! Run now!”
She did, her loafers heavy with clinging mud, her breath leaving her body in a burst. She cleared the fence just as the male hog charged at Lenny. Lenny sprinted to the right, groaning as his leg apparently twisted. Jane went out the unlocked gate, turning to hold it for Lenny to pass through while Boy barked and ran in circles behind her. Lenny used some more of his impressive football moves to zigzag away from the angry boar, then ran through the open gate, grabbing it to push it shut just before the massive animal slammed at it. Jane saw the white of the mad hog’s eyes and smelled the stench of his breath, but now there was a fence between them at least.
“You did it. We’re safe.”
Winded and dirty, Lenny and Jane fell on the grass outside the dirt pen, looked at each other, then burst into laughter.
Then Lenny turned toward her, triumph replacing his earlier anger. “So, had enough? Are you leaving now?”
“No way,” she said, determination replacing her fear of hogs. Her family lived for taking dares. And Jane was up to this one. “I’m just getting started.”
He gave her a long, muddy look that turned from triumphant to calculating. “I tell you what, Coach. How ’bout you and me make a deal?”
Jane
