Essay On A Old Farm House

“Miz Bridger to you,” she said with a curtsy to his bow. “Can I give him some of this hay?”

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She shook her head from side to side. “It’s not a problem.” Which really it wasn’t though she wasn’t exactly sure if they had anyone back in town that need them. She shrugged her shoulders and shifted her head from side to side. It wasn’t her problem if they did. “That’s true. Hold as much as you can carry.” She said with a slight nod of the head, a smile quickly spreading across her face. “I believe you.” She in a soft voice, her head dropping towards the side.

Mica shrugged and began to unload the elk, lifting them one at a time out of the cart. Even with all her confidence, Sapphire admittedly felt a little intimidated as Mica's muscles bulged with the strain of the games' weight yet did not slow his pace. Sapphire watched Mica as he made his work look seemingly effortless, something that was not true for her a few hours earlier.

When cattle first came to America with the Europeans it was a simpler time. The cattle were set lose to graze in the forests and slaughtered as needed. In the 1800’s livestock started becoming more and more domesticated. They were breed, raised to work the fields, and sold or traded as needed with the local community. As town populations grew larger so did the need for commercial butchers. Cows were slaughtered as

She was a delightful, brave girl with brunette eyes and short hair. Her friends saw her as a fine, kind friend. Once, she had even made a cup of tea for a spotty deaf person. That's the sort of woman he was.

"Ouch. How cruel." He then smiled at me, welcoming back home. "You could at least let me..." He glanced at the person behind me, stopping in the middle of his sentence. "...Carry your bag."

She gave us something to talk about. She was entertaining. At the same time, we held back. Because she was different. Different. We had no one to compare her to, no one to measure her against. She was unknown territory. Unsafe. We were afraid to get too close.

That day when she got home from school she mixed up a batch of peanut butter cookies and while they were baking, she prepared a pan of brownies as well. A couple of hours later she left a note for her parents to say where she’d gone in case one of them came home early. Then she hiked around to the old man’s ranch carrying her offerings in a plastic container with a ribbon around it.

“What is going on?” I screech. I frantically survey the crowd. Shortly thereafter, I spot a lady in the sea of moving cows.

Pg 1: Once upon a time there was a cow named Betty. Betty was in the 4 grade, she had long black hair, brown eyes, and she would always wear a blue t-shirt with black jeans and red shoes. She loved to dance, but she’s very shy and self-conscious. She attends Christopher Marsh Middle school, where every day at lunch she would go to the auditorium and practice new dance routines she creates.

Toke strode across camp with his newly wrapped feet. “It feels kind of weird … and scratchy.”

“Just a minute,” he said, rushing into the house and returned, pulling up his pants and buttoning his shirt. “Show me where she is.”

Gosh, Bertha. What if he saw you?! She thinks to herself. That question is answered when she hears sniggering and a boys’ voice saying “Ernie, look, the cow seems very taken with you indeed!”

They couldn't steal Bessie. We haven’t enough money to buy a new cow and her milk keeps us alive. She is also such a kind and gentle animal. I’d hate to see her in the hands of those rough men. I held my breath as I approached the pen. Suddenly, I stopped, realizing that I didn't have a plan. I whispered a quick prayer and snuck in.