“This kitchen will need to be stocked, I want you to go out and find provisions for the work,” the Helper said.
“Where should I go? What should I bring?” I asked, eagerly.
“Down the road lies a pasture where many cows graze. Go and see the man who tends to them,” he said.
I quickly made for the door and stepped outside. I felt the warmth of the sun on my face and a gentle breeze that caressed my skin. Immediately I was overcome; my zeal to help with the work was halted as tears began streaming down my face. Has the world always been this beautiful? I wondered. Often I had looked out from my windows but only seen the storm, or stood upon my stoop but only seen the fog, or wandered down the road but only felt the choking darkness. Now the sky was clear, and peering down the vast road I could see, for the first time, the distant pasture of which the Helper spoke. With vigour I set off and made my way, my eyes fixed on the farmhouse that stood in the midst of the pastures. As I made my approach I could see the cows behind the fence at the roadside and the variety of them was surprising. I passed through the gate and into the yard in front of the house where I found myself being watched by a very large cow of humble and familiar breed on the other side of the lot. The animal let out a low moo and shook its head.
“What is it, girl?” I heard a voice say. From behind the animal a man appeared, standing up off his stool and looking around. Seeing me he shouted, “Good morning!”
“Good morning,” I answered, as I made my way carefully toward him and the animal.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Jamie might seem intimidating at first but she’s a beautiful soul.”
I came closer and the animal looked at me, sniffed the air and, seemingly satisfied, turned away.
“You can pet her if you like,” the man said.
Nervously, I stretched out my hand and touched her; her fur was short but soft, and her warmth quickly spread through my fingers.
“Wow,” I said, as I put my other hand on her. I felt my hands rise and fall with every breath and, unable to resist, I rested my head against her side and listened to the deep, echoing sound.
The man watched me with a smile before asking, “So what brings you here?”
His question broke me of my distraction and I answered, “It’s a long story, but a Man purchased my house.” When I mentioned the Man, he smiled warmly.
“Say no more,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. “I’m the rancher here. It’s always a pleasure when the Helper sends someone my way.”
His enthusiasm was uplifting. “Good to meet you,” I said. “What’s your name?”
“That’s not important. Only that I’m the one the Man loves.” Tears began to well up in his eyes. “He’s a dear friend to me.”
I watched with a smile as he drifted off, reminiscing about something, before he returned to his senses and focused his attention on me excitedly.
“Well, let’s start here,” he said, walking back behind Jamie. I followed him around and watched as he took a bucket with a ladle, sat down, and began to milk her. His expert hands drew consistent streams of rich milk into the bucket, and when he had pulled about half a pint he offered it to me. “Try this.”
I took the ladle from him and sipped; it was fresh and warm and sweet with a smooth, velvety texture. “Delicious,” I said, as I finished what was in the ladle.
Suddenly, Jamie mooed again and the Rancher laughed. “She says, ‘thank you’.”
I laughed and patted her gratefully.
The Rancher stood back up. “You’ll get that same quality from any of the cows in my pasture,” he said proudly.
“I saw many different kinds,” I said. “Are they all the same?”
The Rancher walked over to the fence and leaned against it as he pointed out different animals. “Well some people prefer that one for its sweetness, some that one for how easy it is to digest, others prefer that one for its high nutritional value, but most people prefer milk from Jamie’s breed.” His demeanor suddenly changed as he turned to look at me. “But listen; there are some breeders out there who try to sell people on their own special cows, but their milk will only make you sick. I’ve seen their animals and they’re either weak and malnourished or fat and lethargic.”
“How will I be able to tell the difference?” I asked.
“Drink often from these, get used to the flavour, and you’ll be able to separate the good from the bad without thinking.”
“I will. Thank you.”
The Rancher smiled at my response. “Come with me,” he said. “There’s someone else you need to meet.”
He led me through the back gate and behind the farmhouse to a vast garden lined with rows and rows of vegetables. As we made our way along the rows we came upon another man who was busy harvesting ears of corn.
“Good morning!” the Rancher shouted.
The other man looked up from his work. “Good morning.”
As he came to meet us and the Rancher spoke again, “This is my young friend’s first time to the farm.”
“I see. Welcome,” he said, shaking my hand.
“Thank you,” I answered. “What’s your name?”
“That’s not important,” he replied, “Only that I’m the one the Man knows face to face, as a friend.”
“The Farmer here is in charge of feeding the cattle,” the Rancher said.
“Very true,” the Farmer agreed. “The cows rely on my crops for their nourishment. In fact, the cows are only here because of this farm.”
“He’s right,” the Rancher confirmed. “When I came, the farm was already here and producing.”
“Where did the farm come from?” I asked.
The Farmer smiled. “I’d love to tell you the story.”
I nodded eagerly. “Please!”
We all walked back to the farmhouse and sat down outside, eating some of the freshly harvested corn, to listen to the tale.
“When the Man found me,” the Farmer began, “I was a slave in a distant land. Much like you, he came to me with the same offer to purchase my house, but I didn’t have one to sell him. Of course I told him this but he insisted that I was mistaken and made the same offer. Again I said, ‘Sir, this house doesn’t belong to me, but to my master.’ He then told me that wasn’t the house he was talking about.”
“What house was he talking about?” I asked.
“This one.” The Farmer pointed at the farmhouse. “He told me I had a home in a distant place and that, if I sold it to him, he would bring me and my family to it to live.”
“What did you say?” I asked.
“I agreed, and my family and I prepared to leave that country, but my master at the time didn’t want to let us go…”
Time ticked away as I sat and listened to the Farmer’s story, but just as it was getting exciting the Rancher interrupted.
“Farmer, maybe you should give it a break for now. I bet the Helper is waiting for our young friend to come back.”
“Oh! You’re right,” the Farmer agreed, “I’ll have to finish my story some other time.”
I had completely forgotten. With a mix of anxiety and disappointment I stood up. “I do need to head back.”
“Let us give you what you came for,” the Rancher said.
He and the Farmer stepped away and shortly came back with a cart filled with bottles of milk and bins of vegetables.
“All of this?” I asked.
“Yes,” the Farmer replied. “Store it up, let it nourish you, and come back often for more.”