“You can join us when you've finished mucking out, Anthony.”
“Aye, but stand downwind when you come!”
Balkis' anger mounted as she realized the rules of the very unfair game—that Anthony was not allowed to fight back, but it was all right for him to avoid the blows if he could. Balkis felt certain he had faked some of those staggerings so his brothers would feel satisfied enough to leave him alone. As Lichi had said, they were rough and coarse, and Balkis suspected their father was very much like his sons—more, in fact, for they had probably learned their bullying ways by imitating him. At the very least, he had condoned it. All in all, a thoroughly unpleasant family.
With one exception.
Balkis stayed hidden for a week, gradually regaining her strength through spilled milk and the brownies' petting. By day the barn was all hers to hunt mice and, as she grew stronger, rats. At night the cows, sheep, goats, and pigs kept the barn warm. At sunrise and sunset, though, the brothers and their father drove the livestock in to feed and milk.
The father was the prototype of his sons, though not quite so tall—a redheaded, red-bearded block of muscle. He had grown heavier with age, putting on some fat, especially in the belly. His hair and beard were streaked with gray, and he bellowed his orders in a gravelly voice. If the older brothers joined in criticizing Anthony or bossing him about, their father was sure to support them; as far as he was concerned, there was a chain of command based on age, with himself at the top and Anthony at the bottom.
So when they had finished driving the cows home for the night, it was always Anthony who did the mucking out, apparently doomed to it for life by virtue of being born last. He did the milking, too—in spite of their endless directions about how to do it right, none of the brothers seemed to want such women's work. They preferred to spend their time bullying the animals and repairing the farmstead and fences. Anthony had his share of the chill outdoor work, too, of course.
At night, though, the cold clamped down around the farm. The animals stayed inside, and so, Balkis assumed, did the men. Assuming wasn't enough for her, of course—she was very curious, wanting to see how they fared inside the farmhouse.
That, though, would have to wait for greater energy, and a thaw. Still, by the end of the week she had recovered enough to risk making Anthony's acquaintance—and a risk it was. She was aware that the young man might be passive only because he had no chance of beating his brothers, but that with someone weaker, he might turn out to be as great a bully as any of them. So she waited until she had recovered enough to be sure she could outrun and outclimb him. Then, one evening when the brothers were done driving the livestock in for the night and feeding them, and had left Anthony to his milking with jeers and threats, she plucked up her courage.
As soon as the door closed behind them, a smile of contentment brightened Anthony's face. He began to sing a soft and lilting tune as he milked, and Balkis understood why he was willing to accept the chore—it gave him a few precious minutes alone, away from his brothers' badgering and tormenting.
Balkis almost hated to interrupt such serenity. Nonetheless, she took her chance, climbing down the back wall and threading her way between hooves and heaps of straw. Then, stepping out around a timber, she mewed plaintively.
Anthony looked up in surprise, and his face lit up. “A cat!”
Balkis braced herself for the grasping hand, the tormenting yank on the tail, tensed to rake with claws, to bite and twist and run.
CHAPTER 7
Anthony only held out his hand very slowly and waited.
Balkis' opinion of him soared—here was a man who knew how to make friends with animals! She stepped forward and sniffed his fingers. It was a pleasant smell, warm with the musk of the cow's udder and the scent of milk, but with a masculine aroma beneath that made something quiver inside her. She butted her head against his hand. With a gentle, joyful laugh, he rubbed the top of her head very gently, then went on to massage an ear, asking, “Who are you, kit? How did you come here?”
Balkis decided a change of subject was vital and meowed again, her tone moving from plaintive to demanding.
Anthony laughed with gentle amusement. “Hungry, are you? Well, I think Sunshine can spare a drop or two. Can't you, old girl?” He slapped the cow's side, and Sunshine turned her head as much as her head-ropes would allow, mooing. Then, seeing Balkis, she lowed as though to say, Oh, it's only her. Why didn 'tyou say so?
“You see? Sunshine is quite generous.” Anthony turned a teat and aimed a squirt of milk right over Balkis' head.
Surprised, she ducked. Anthony rebuked her gently. “You must not waste, you know—and you don't want to have to lap your milk off this dirty floor, do you? Come, stand up and catch it in your mouth.”
What would he have said if he'd known she had been drinking off that floor all week? she wondered. Still, Balkis could see his heart was in the right place, and she had drunk from a wineskin often enough. She crouched to show she was ready.
Anthony laughed low with delight, aimed, and let squirt. Balkis sprang up on her hind legs and caught the stream full in her mouth. It stopped, and she dropped down to all fours again, licking her chops.
“Another?” Anthony asked.
Balkis crouched.
Anthony let out a squirt again, making it last as long as Balkis could stand on her hind legs. When she dropped down, licking the last drops off her whiskers, Anthony said, “That should keep you from starving, at least. I've work to do, though. Come close if you wish, but I must be about my milking.”
He turned back to his work, but Balkis wasn't willing to surrender his attention so quickly. She stepped up, rubbing against his ankle. “Good cat!” he said, and reached down to stroke her.
Now, that was something entirely different from a little rub between the ears. His hand caressed the length of her back, arousing an intensity of sensation that alarmed her. She shivered with pleasure from nose to tail-tip. He stroked again, and she felt a flush of warmth welling up from the core of her being and spreading through her whole body. In spite of herself, she closed her eyes to concentrate on the pure delight of his touch, and was surprised to realize she was purring. He stroked again and again, and she stood shivering as a vagrant thought drifted into her mind—how would she have reacted to that touch if she had been in human form?
At that, her eyes flew open in alarm—but still she stood quivering, frozen in place by pure pleasure. Anthony stroked again, and her feelings intensified so much that she knew she had gone into heat. In panic, she flowed out from under Anthony's hand and sat down beyond his reach, shuddering with fright but too fascinated to run.
Anthony chuckled. “Had enough, then? Well, come back if you want more. Cats need homes and petting as much as they need milk to keep them from going wild.”
Balkis thought that sort of petting was more likely to make her go wild. Still, she watched Anthony as he turned back to his work. Gradually, her breathing calmed and her feelings ebbed, leaving her to wonder if she'd really been in heat at all—from what she had seen of cats in that state, it lasted a week or more, or until some tom made it vanish but left the puss pregnant. Then Balkis began to wonder again what kind of sensations she would have felt if Anthony had petted her in her human form. The thought aroused such intense feelings that she ducked away into the darkness to let the panic subside.
From that day on, though, Balkis came out whenever Anthony was alone in the barn, telling herself that with time his touch would cease to be so inflaming. Anthony assumed she came for milk and always gave her a squirt or two, then petted her until she took fright again and retreated. She kept waiting for his touch to cease arousing the wonderful shivering, but it didn't. Still, she watched him as long as he was in the barn, for even the sight of him roused pleasant feelings now— pleasant, but much less alarming than his petting.