I am happy to share with you a drawing for Part 2 of Jason’s story! His creative daughter was kind enough to draw this picture of Betsy for us. If you missed Part 1 of Jason’s story, his continuation from my Anna/Tanya saga, here is the link A Fun Surprise! Enjoy the exciting conclusion. Fair warning : If puns make you “smack your head”, be prepared, but you will find this entertaining! It also may bring back to your memory the name of a really old Tv show!
Betsy’s Tail Continued…
Twilight fades as the sun appears on the horizon across the bay. Betsy rowed the boat, weighed down with precious treasure into a cove near the quaint village of Borden. She hid the boat and treasure chest among the reeds where no one could see and hoofed it into town. She must find someone to hire that could transport her and her treasure chest back to the farm before farmer Luke became suspicious. And this someone needed to be able keep their mouth shut. She also knew that Luke’s cousin Patrick lived in Borden and she needed to avoid his notice. Fortunately, Betsy had found some clothing to disguise herself back in Tanya’s old cottage. Oddly though it was all men’s clothing. Tanya must have led quite a wild life out there on that island.
She slipped into a seedy diner down by the docks and sat down for breakfast. “What’ll it be, miss..ster?” said the bartender.
“Coffee.” Betsy nearly mooed. She had been up all night and needed the caffeine.
“Would you like cream and sugar with that?”
Betsy snarled and jerked her head so hard that her bell nearly rang out, “Do I look like the kind of cow, er, man that wants cream and sugar?!? Hot, black coffee. As strong and bitter as you have. And bring me a large plate of sorghum too.”
“Right away, m’am, sir.” The waiter said and hurried off to the kitchen.
Betsy began to get the eerie feeling that she was being watched. She felt it in all four of her stomachs, but that could just be lingering pain from the pork chops and cold cuts that she got in her struggle with Portia. The pig was a worthy opponent, but Betsy had gotten the upper hoof when she hind-shanked Portia in her jowl and layed her out flat. All she had needed was an apple in her mouth to complete the picture.
Betsy turned to see if anyone was watching her. For an instant she swore she saw a goose, but the stranger quickly lifted a newspaper in front of their face. Betsy turned around and thought about it. It would be really strange for a goose to be this far north this late in the year. She looked again but saw that it was just a thin pale man with glasses and a mustache. She shook her head.
As she finished her breakfast, she noticed a crusty old fisherman enter the joint. She decided that she’d prod the fisherman to see if could hook her up with transportation.
When asked, the fisherman said “Aye, come with me. I know just the fellow.” She followed the fisherman down the street.
Lou C. Goose was a failed photographer from down south. He had tried his wing at being a portrait photographer for children as he noticed that the humans always wanted photos of their little personlings or whatever they called them. But, Lou had the annoying habit of uncontrollably honking loudly whenever he pressed the shutter release. Turns out people wanted pictures of their little ones smiling, rather than startled with eyes wide and mount agape.
So, he pawned off all his camera equipment and flew north to find the gold of the heart shaped cave. He arrived late last evening to see a cow coming ashore on an island dragging a treasure chest that he assumed must be the secret gold. He tried to stay on the cow’s tail but lost her in the dark.
Lou figured the cow must come to town in the morning and he would pick up her trail there. Sure enough the next morning, he saw what looked like a cow in human clothing walking into town. Most people wouldn’t take notice of such a thing, but the horns were a dead giveaway. Lou followed her into a low rent sort of diner and took a seat at a table to her hindquarters to keep an eye on her.
The cow suddenly turned to look Lou’s way. Quickly he grabbed his newspaper and pulled it in front of his face. He hoped she hadn’t seen him. He then put on a pair of glasses and a fake mustache to disguise himself. Hopefully, he would look just like one of the local nitwits now, as long as he didn’t start honking.
The cow left the diner with a fisherman and headed down the street. Lou followed them carefully.
When they got to a feed store, the fisherman told Betsy “Now you go around back. There is usually a wildebeest back there getting supplies this time of day. For a few bucks he’ll do just about anything.”
Betsy went around back and sure enough, there was a wildebeest loading his truck.
“Ah, hello Mr. Wildebeest…” Betsy said
“That’s Gnu.” said the fellow.
“What’s new?” asked Betsy.
“No, not new, Gnu. G – N – U. I’m a Gnu, not a wildebeest. The name Gnippy Gnu” He pronounced it Guh-nippy as the G in Gnippy is not silent like it is in Gnu “and I’m the Mayor of Borden.”
“I didn’t know Borden had gnu mayor.” Betsy said.
“Nah, not new, I’ve been mayor for 6 years.” said Gnippy.
“That’s not… never mind.” Betsy said “this conversation is beginning to remind me of a baseball team that I once heard about.”
“I not much of a sports fan.” said Gnu. “all those lions and tigers and bears scare the hell out of me.”
“I see.” said Betsy “I was told that I could hire you to transport me and my cargo somewhere and that you could keep your mouth shut.”
“Ah, you have been well informed, young man, for the right price I’ll haul you where you need to go in my truck and forget I ever saw you. For to tell you the truth, wildebeest’s have very poor memory.”
“I thought you were a gnu.” said Betsy.
“A new what?” ask Gnippy.
Not this again. “Never mind” said Betsy. “Can you meet me at the reedy cove just west of town around sunset?” Betsy asked. “I’ll be there with my cargo. I’ll tell you where we’re going when you get there.”
“Aye, that’ll cost you about 50 dollars.” said Gnippy.
“I’ll be paying you in gold.” Betsy said as the gnu’s eyes lit up.
Just then Betsy saw someone out of the corner of her eye and jumped behind some boxes, cowering just out of sight. When the man was gone, Gnippy asked her what she was so afraid of.
“I thought I saw a man name Patrick. I must avoid him at all costs.” Betsy said.
“That wasn’t Patrick, t’was his cousin Beaux. I think his last name is Vine.” said Gnippy.
Betsy resisted the urge to smack her head. “Look, don’t be coy with me” she said “Beaux may be a good ol’ boy, but I need to avoid Patrick, and his cousins Beaux and Luke or I could be in real hazzard. I could wind up pushing up daisies. And I don’t have time to duke it out with any of them.”
It was Gnippy’s turn to look confused. “Look, Mr. Bull, I will be at the cove at sunset. You be there with the gold and I’ll take you where you need to go.”
Betsy left the alley but did not notice a thin, pale mustached figure having a gander at her. Lou had overheard the entire exchange.
That evening Betsy waited at the appointed time and herd the gnu’s truck coming down the dirt road. When he arrived, she explained how to get to Luke’s farm and gave him half the gold in advance with the promise of more when they arrived at the farm. Betsy trotted around and jumped in the back of the truck and set on her rump for the ride through the evening.
She hoped to sneak into the barn and hide the gold while Luke was distracted with his female companion. She didn’t know what men found so appealing in their females with their udders so high upon their chests. People are just weird, she thought.
They arrived uneventfully at the farm. Betsy paid Gnippy his remaining gold and sent him on his way. She made it into the barn, found a hiding place for the gold and then set about coming up with a story to explain the absence of Portia and that chicken, what was his name. She thought she heard a honking sound, but figured it must be old Gnippy Gnu driving away.