ilk in the pail
and went back to the ranch house. Barney climbed drippingly from the
horse trough.

The kitchen was a mess. Splattered eggs were over everything and broken
glass, crockery and plaster covered the floor, table and counters. Only
one egg remained unbroken. That was the golden egg. Hetty picked it up
and shook it. There was a faint sensation of something moving inside
the tough, metallic-looking shell. It shook almost as a normal egg
might, but not quite. Hetty set the strange object on a shelf and
turned to the task of cleaning up.

* * * * *

Johnny Culpepper, the ranch's other full-time hand and Hetty's
assistant manager, drove the pickup into the yard just before noon. He
parked in the shade of the huge cottonwood tree beside the house and
bounced out with an armload of mail and newspapers. Inside the kitchen
door, he dumped the mail on the sideboard and started to toss his hat
on a wall hook when he noticed the condition of the room. Hetty was
dishing out fragrant, warmed-over stew into three lunch dishes on the
table. She had cleaned up the worst of the mess and changed into a
fresh shirt and jeans. Her iron-gray hair was pulled back in a
still-damp knot at the back after a hasty scrubbing to get out the
gooey mixture of eggs and plaster.

"Holy smoke, Hetty," Johnny said. "What happened here? Your pressure
kettle blow up?" His eyes widened when he saw the lid of the slop
cauldron still embedded in the wall over the stove. His gaze tracked
back and took in the shattered window.

"Had an accident," Hetty said matter-of-factly, putting the last dishes
on the table. "Tell you about it when we eat. Now you go wash up and
call Barney. I want you to put some new glass in that window this
afternoon and get that danged lid outta the wall."

Curious and puzzled, Johnny washed at the kitchen sink and then walked
to the door to shout for Barney. On the other side of the yard, Barney
released the pump windmill clutch. While Johnny watched from the porch,
the weight of the heavy slop cauldron slowly turned the big windmill
and as the arm adorned by the kettle rotated downward, the cast-iron
pot slipped off and fell to the hard-packed ground with a booming
clang.

"Well, for the luvva Pete," Johnny said in amazement. "Hey, Barney,
time to eat. C'mon in."

Barney trudged across the yard and limped into the kitchen to wash.
They sat down to the table. "Now just what