Lord God Made Them All Read Free Page B

I’ve nearly gone arse over tip. I was sayin’ to t’missus just t’other day …”
    “I really must get on, Mr. Ripley,” I interposed. “Remember, I still haven’t had my lunch. I’ll just slip out to the car for an antitetanus injection for the cow.”
    I gave her the shot, dropped the syringe into my pocket and was on my way across the yard when the farmer called after me.
    “Have ye got your nippers with ye, Mr. Herriot?”
    “Nippers …?” I halted and looked back at him. I couldn’t believe this. “Well, yes, I have, but surely you don’t want to start castrating calves now?”
    The farmer flicked an ancient brass lighter and applied a long sheet of flame to the bowl of his pipe. “There’s nobbut one, Mr. Herriot. Won’t take a minute.”
    Ah, well, I thought, as I opened the boot and fished out the Burdizzo from its resting place on my calving overall. It didn’t really matter now. My Yorkshire pudding was a write-off, a dried-up husk by now, and the beef and those gorgeous fresh vegetables would be almost cremated. All was lost, and nipping a calf wasn’t going to make any difference.
    As I turned back, a pair of double doors at the end of the yard burst open and an enormous black animal galloped out and stood looking around him warily in the bright sunshine, pawing the ground and swishing his tail bad-temperedly. I stared at the spreading horns, the great hump of muscle on the shoulder and the coldly glittering eyes. It only needed a blast on a trumpet and sand instead of cobbles and I was in the Plaza de Toros in Madrid.
    “Is that the calf?” I asked.
    The farmer nodded cheerfully. “Aye, that’s ’im. I thowt I’d better run ’im over to the cow house so we could tie ’im up by the neck.”
    A wave of rage swept over me and for a moment I thought I was going to start shouting at the man, then, strangely, I felt only a great weariness.
    I walked over to him, put my face close to his and spoke quietly. “Mr. Ripley, it’s a long time since we met, and you’ve had plenty of opportunities to keep the promise you made me then. Remember? About getting your calves nipped when they were little and about replacing that gate? Now look at that great bull and see what your gate has done to my clothes.”
    The farmer gazed with genuine concern at the snags and tears in my trousers and reached out to touch a gaping rent in my sleeve.
    “Eee, I’m right sorry about that.” He glanced at the bull. “And I reckon ’e is a bit big.”
    I didn’t say anything and after a few moments the farmer threw up his head and looked me in the eye, a picture of resolution.
    “Aye, it’s not right,” he said. “But ah’ll tell ye summat. Just nip this ’un today, and I’ll see nowt of this ever happens again.”
    I wagged a finger at him. “But you’ve said that before. Do you really mean it this time?”
    He nodded vigorously. “Ah’ll guarantee it.”
    Strangely, the familiar hollow promise did not irk me as I might have expected. Perhaps it was because I’d been away from Yorkshire so long, seeing a world changing faster than I sometimes liked, but this homely sign of immutability tickled me. I chuckled. And then I began to laugh. “A-ha,” I bubbled, “a-ha-ha-ha!” Soon Mrs. Ripley got caught up with it. “Hee!” she agreed. “Hee-hee! Hee-hee!” And Mr. Ripley took his pipe from his mouth with great deliberation and said, “Heh. Heh-heh. Hehheh-heh.” And the three of us stood there, bawling away a Sunday afternoon together.
    Just then the bull snorted derisively.
    “Aye, it’s true,” Mr. Ripley stammered through his laughter, wiping his eyes. “If ah was in your place, I wouldn’t be laughing either.”

Chapter
2
    “O OOH … OOH-HOO-HOOO!” T HE BROKEN-HEARTED sobbing jerked me into full wakefulness. It was 1 A.M. , and after the familiar jangling of the bedside phone I expected the gruff voice of a farmer with a calving cow. Instead, there was this terrible