Free In the Catskills: A Century of Jewish Experience in "The Mountains" by Phil Brown Page B

to cover the window! The heifer’s lamenting drove me mad. I heard in it the despair of everything that lives. All of creation was protesting through her. A wild idea ran through my mind: Perhaps during the night I should go out and kill the heifer and then myself. A murder followed by a suicide like this would be something new in the history of humanity.
    I heard heavy steps on the staircase. The farmer had brought his wife over. Then began the apologies and the strange exaggerations of simple people when they encounter their beloved writer. Bessie exclaimed, “Sam, I must kiss him.”
    And before I managed to say a word, the woman caught my face in her rough hands, which smelled of onion, garlic, and sweat.
    The farmer was saying good-naturedly, “A stranger she kisses and me she lets fast.”
    “You are crazy and he’s a scientist, greater than a professor.”
    It took but a minute and the daughter came up. She stood in the open door and looked on half mockingly at the way her parents fussed over me. After a while she said, “If I have insulted you, excuse me. My father brought us here to the wasteland. We have no car and his horse is half dead. Suddenly a man with a valise drops from the sky and wants to know why the heifer is yelling. Really funny.”
    Sam clasped his hands together with the look of a man about to announce something which will astound everyone. His eyes filled with laughter. “If you have so much pity on animals, I am going to give back the heifer. We can do without her. Let her go back to her mother, for whom she pines.”
    Bessie tilted her head to one side. “John Parker won’t give you back the money.”
    “If he won’t return the whole amount, he will return ten dollars less. It’s a healthy heifer.”
    “I will make up the difference,” I said, astonished at my own words.
    “What? We will not go to court,” the farmer said. “I want this man in my house all summer. He won’t have to pay me. For me it will be an honor and a joy.”
    “Really, the man is crazy. We needed the heifer like a hole in the head.”
    I could see that husband and wife were making peace because of me.
    “If you really want to do it, why wait?” I asked. “The animal may die from yearning and then—”
    “He’s right,” the farmer called. “I’m going to take the heifer back right now. This very minute.”
    Everyone became silent. As if the heifer knew that her fate was being decided this minute, she let out a howl which made me shudder. This wasn’t a yearning heifer but a dybbuk.
     
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    The moment Sam entered the stable the heifer became quiet. It was a black heifer with large ears and huge black eyes that expressed a wisdom which only animals possess. There was no sign that she had just gone through so many hours of agony. Sam tied a rope around her neck and she followed him willingly. I followed behind with Bessie near me. The daughter stood in front of the house and said, “Really, I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”
    We walked along and the heifer did not utter a sound. She seemed to know the way back because she tried to run and Sam had to restrain her. Meanwhile, husband and wife argued before me the way couples used to argue when they came to my father’s court for a Din Torah. Bessie was saying, “The ruin stood empty for years and nobody even looked at it. I don’t think someone would have taken it for nothing. Suddenly my husband appears and gets the bargain. How does the saying go? ‘When a fool comes to the market, the merchants are happy.’”
    “What did you have on Orchard Street? The air stank. As soon as daylight began, the crash and noise started. Our apartment was broken into. Here you don’t have to lock the door. We can leave for days and weeks and no one will steal anything.”
    “What thief would come to such a desert?” Bessie asked. “And what could he take? American thieves are choosy. They want either money or