The Angry Bull

The
Angry Bull

by

Austin
Mitchell

           Miss Felice had just returned from
tying out her goats. Her husband, Tucker, had gone with the bull to the
pasture. Tuck had two grown daughters and 
a son who were all abroad. Miss Felice didn’t have any children for him.
Her only daughter was also abroad.

         Their yard boy, Big Ted, had
accompanied her to tie out the twelve goats, they had. As she looked and didn’t
see her husband returning from the bushes she became worried.  Only last month the bull had chased him down
twice. Once he had to fly up into a tree and wait until the animal fell asleep.
The other time he had to jump down a ravine, nearly breaking his legs. Several
butchers had made generous offers to purchase the bull, but Tucker had turned
them down.

            “Ted, how come Tuck hasn’t had his
breakfast yet?”

            “You think Bulla run him down again,
Miss Felice?”

            Before Miss Felice could open her
mouth she saw her husband coming to the gate.

            Big Ted went and opened it for him.

            “I thought Bulla bucked you down.”

            “I would be dead if those horns ever
caught me.”

            “I believe you should sell him
before he gives you any more trouble,” she told him as they sat around the
breakfast table.

            Tucker was not the only person he
had nearly bored. Big Ted had to jump into a tree on at least two occasions.
Two neighbors passing Tucker’s lands had to run like the devil after the bull
got loose and chased them. Few of their neighbors ventured near his lands after
those incidents. Praedial thieves gave his lands a wide berth.

            A horn was blowing at their gate.
Big Ted went to see who it was.

            Sonny Brown was there to see Tucker.

            “Tuck, I’m here to buy the bull,”
Sonny told him. He was a big heavy set man as butchers go.

            “I’m not ready to sell yet, Sonny. I
want him to put on a few more pounds.”

            “I’m taking trouble off your hands,
Tuck. He nearly bucked you down twice.”

            “Sell him, Tuck. Buy milk cows after
this. You have me and Big Ted to help you milk them,” Miss Felice pleaded.

            But all their persuasions could not
convince Tuck to sell the bull.

            ”Tuck, I wish you all the best with
this bull, but if I were you I would sell him.”

            Sonny Brown left to go elsewhere to
purchase cows, goats and pigs for slaughtering.

            Tuck brought home the bull to its
home pen that evening without incident.

            “He is behaving himself now, Felice.
I want to see him put on some more weight before I sell him.”

            “Sonny would have given you a good
price. I’m afraid of what will happen to you one of these days.”

            “I know how to handle this bull and
his antics. Don’t forget this is about the sixth bull I’ve owned.”

            Miss Felice knew that this was the
most ill- tempered bull, Tuck had ever owned. 
As it was a Friday evening Tuck left later on that evening to have a
drink with his friends. Miss Felice didn’t do any drinking, as she was a
Christian.

            The bull stayed home on weekends and
Tuck and Big Ted would cut grass and feed him. Miss Felice felt that maybe
that’s what they should do. Pen him and then feed him on grass, but Tuck
disagreed with her. He felt that the bull was better off in the pasture  grazing on fresh green grass.

            At about nine o’clock the next
Monday morning. Big Ted came running up to the house.

            “Miss Felice, come quick, mam!”

            “What happen, Ted? What happen?”

            “The bull buck down Mister Tuck,
mam.”

            “Jesus Christ! Him no dead?”

            “I don’t know, mam. He wasn’t
moving.”

            They rushed down to the pasture.
Tuck was on his back and his body was splattered with blood. They could see the
holes in his body where the bull’s horn had bored him. Miss Felice threw
herself on his body in grief. She felt his pulse, but there was none. There was
no sign of the bull.

            “Tuck dead. Lord, my husband dead,”
she wailed.

            Neighbors ran to her assistance.
Sonny was sent for. The bull was tracked down, half a kilometer from where it
had been tied. It had to be shot as nobody could get near it.

            Both Miss Felice and Sonny and even
Big Ted knew that Tuck had caused his own death by his stubborn refusal to sell
the dangerous bull. The End.

Austin's blog: stredwick.blogspot.com