Blue Ribbon Blues Read Free

fussed on the roof of the coop. The others were in the branches of a nearby tree. Tooter saw something move at the top of the hill. A flash of hind legs and tail disappeared into the woods.
    “Harvey!” she called.
    “Arf!” Harvey replied.
    Tooter turned. Harvey was right behind her.
    So if Harvey was here, then what was up
there?
    Aunt Sally was staring at several brown feathers on the ground. She looked toward the hill. “Coyote,” she said.
    “Coyote?” said Tooter. “You mean like Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner?”
    Aunt Sally picked up a feather. “Yep. Only this coyote is real. And he
ain’t
funny.”
    “I thought coyotes were out west,” said Tooter.
    “They’re showing up in these parts,” said Aunt Sally. “Jack Hafer’s father said he saw one the other day.”
    Tooter stared at the feather in her aunt’s hand. Suddenly she realized what had happened. “The coyote took a chicken!”
    “Bingo.”
    Tooter clung to her aunt. She looked fearfully at the hilltop. “Do they take kids too?”
    “No,” said Aunt Sally. “But they scare the devil out of goats.”
    They found Aunt Sally’s goat standing on its hind legs under a tree. Its front hooves pawed at the trunk, ripping bark.
    Tooter forgot her own fear. She helped Aunt Sally bring the goat’s front feet down. The poor thing’s eyes were bulging with terror. It was trembling in her hands. She petted it. She talked to it. “It’s okay … it’s okay. The coyote is gone. You’re safe.”
    She led the goat back to the barnyard. She discovered she didn’t want to leave it.
    “Aunt Sally,” she said, “what’s the goat’s name?”
    Aunt Sally scratched her ear. “Guess it don’t rightly have a name. I usually just call it ‘hey you.’ ”

    Tooter stepped back to look the goat over. It was the color of dirty white socks before they went into the washer. She was thinking of naming it “Socks” when suddenly she burped. And the burp tasted like last night’s pizza.
    “I got it!” she cried. She leaned in nose to nose with the goat. “Pepperoni!”
    Aunt Sally nodded. “Pepperoni Pepperday. I like it.”
    Now that Tooter had named the goat, she felt closer to it. She put her arm around its neck. “This is a nice goat,” she said.
    “A fine goat,” said Aunt Sally.
    “A very fine goat,” said Tooter.
    “Too bad nobody else ever gets to see her,” said Aunt Sally. “Stuck away in this here barnyard.”
    Tooter looked at Aunt Sally. Aunt Sally was grinning. Tooter said, “I know what you’re thinking.”
    Aunt Sally looked surprised. “And just
what
am I thinking?”
    Tooter pointed at her aunt.
    “
You
think I want to show Pepperoni at the county fair.”
    “Well, bumble my bees,” said Aunt Sally. “A mind reader. Anything else?”
    Tooter put her hands on her hips. “And you’re going to help me.”
    Aunt Sally saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

6
Learning to Walk
    That afternoon they stood in front of Pepperoni.
    “Now this,” said Aunt Sally, “is a goat.”
    Tooter laughed. “I know.”
    “You also have to know the parts of your goat,” said Aunt Sally. “You’ll be tested at the show.”
    “No problem,” said Tooter. “I already know the parts.” She pointed. “Legs. Tail. Mouth. Nose. Ears. Udder.”
    Aunt Sally nodded. “Very good. Now where are the wattles?”
    Tooter stared at Aunt Sally. “Wattles? What’re wattles?”
    “You tell me,” said Aunt Sally.
    Tooter looked over the goat. She whispered in its ear. “Pepperoni, where’re your wattles?”
    Pepperoni didn’t answer.
    Tooter stepped back. Frowning, she studied the animal. “Okay,” she said. “I give up. Where’re the wattles?”
    Aunt Sally pointed to two furry flaps of skin, one on each of Pepperoni’s cheeks. She grinned. “Wattles.”
    A bicycle came around the barn and clattered through the dust. It was Jack Hafer.
    “What’s he doing here?” said Tooter.
    “He’s the real goat expert,” said Aunt Sally.