To pass away the time he polished the gold case with his big red bandanna. The watch was his most prized possession; his father had given it to him on his twelfth birthday, almost eight months before. He wore it only on special occasions or when he was feeling sad, like today. Carefully he unscrewed the back and looked at the shiny works. The balance wheel was going back and forth quietly and faithfully. Jim polished the inside of the back cover and reread the inscription for the hundredth time. “To James Meadows from Elizabeth, June 7, 1884.” Over sixty years ago his grandmother had given that watch to his grandfather and it was still bright and shiny, and kept perfect time.
“I wish it would run a little faster this afternoon though,” said Jim, as he placed the watch in his overall watch pocket.
Feeling a tiny bit more cheerful, he walked toward the orchard fence. A gentle breeze was blowing toward him, bringing the delicate scent of apple blossoms. He leaned on the fence, inhaling deeply and gazing at the riot of blossoms in the orchard. When it is spring in southern Missouri, one must have a very deep sorrow to remain downhearted long. Jim, being young and normally very healthy, was recovering his spirits rapidly. He wrinkled his short nose and after inhaling the odor of apple blossoms again, decided that he would go closer to the trees. Now that no one was about he might even break off a sprig of blossoms. Having a healthy fear of appearing a sissy, he would never think of doing such a thing if his sister Jean were present. Flowers were for girls as far as he was concerned.
He was halfway across the orchard when he remembered the bull. The big red bull was Mr. Meadows’ pride and joy but Jim’s pet abomination. He was afraid of it and very reasonably so, as it was a mean-tempered animal. Feeling rather panicky, Jim turned to hurry back toward the gate. It was too late. Unnoticed, the bull had slipped behind him and was now blocking the way. The big animal was standing very quietly, looking straight at Jim. There was a wicked look in the bloodshot eyes that indicated plainly that he had no intention of remaining quiet long.
With a sinking sensation in his stomach, Jim looked around frantically, trying to figure which fence was the closest. It was rather a tossup as to distance. Choosing the fence bordering the road as being the easiest to climb, he began backing cautiously toward it, keeping his eyes on the hostile bull.
As Jim made up his mind which way to move, so did the bull. He snorted several times, pawed the ground ferociously, lowered his head and charged toward the boy. The powerful feet dug into the soft ground as the big body gathered speed in a ponderous rush. Jim knew he would never make the fence in time. He was frightened, but not too frightened to think. Once the huge bull was up to top speed he couldn’t change direction quickly. As the thundering feet drew dangerously close, the boy darted quickly to the right and ducked behind the nearest apple tree. The bull swerved and roared by like an avalanche.
Jim was safe for a moment, but he knew he would not have long to wait until the bull charged again. The animal had turned around and was pawing and snorting. Reluctantly Jim gave up all ideas of reaching the fence. He grabbed the lowest branch of the apple tree and swung his stocky body upward. He was just in time, for the bull rushed underneath him like an express train.
Giving a whistle of relief, the boy climbed higher. Finding what appeared to be a comfortable perch, he settled down to consider the situation. Apparently he would simply just have to sit there and hope the bull would forget him. The bull decided to play a waiting game too. He pawed and snorted for a time and then calmed down. Although he grazed quietly, he showed no signs of leaving the vicinity. Just as Jim would begin to grow hopeful, the animal would lift his head and gaze balefully up into the tree. This began to appear very one-sided to Jim after a few minutes. While the bull could amble around at his ease, the most Jim could move was a few inches. What had appeared a comfortable seat began to grow very irksome.
He shifted around trying to find a soft spot. It was impossible. One spot was as bad as another. There was a limit as to how long one could sit comfortably in an apple tree. Now Jim grew really sorry for himself. How he wished he could have gone into town with his family. That was the most exciting event of the week. First they took the cream to the Springdale Creamery, where he could walk around inhaling the clean smell of steam and butter. It was fascinating to watch the huge revolving churns. He supposed today would be one of those times when Mr. Slemak would offer everyone a drink of cold buttermilk.
The grocery store was fun too. Probably Jean was sampling the cookies now. When his father paid the grocery bill there was always a bag of candy for both him and Jean. He hoped Mr. Higgins wouldn’t forget him just because he wasn’t along. Jim sighed miserably. Instead of smelling the odor of newly ground coffee, here he was up in a tree smelling apple blossoms. The scent which was so wonderful before was getting rather tiresome now.