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toy, Eli,” Grandpa said. “Time to tie him up.”
    Grandpa helped Eli tie Little Joe’s rope to the rail underneath the pen window. The bull calf bawled, gettingFancy to come over. “Keep quieting him,” Grandpa prodded, rubbing Fancy’s forehead.
    “It’s okay, boy.” Eli spoke softly in Little Joe’s ear. “How am I gonna take you to the fair if I can’t even tie you to a post?”
    Little Joe sniffed at the windowsill, then fought the rope. Over and over, Eli stroked the bull calf’s chin. Finally, Little Joe gave it a rest.
    “That’s enough for today,” Grandpa decided. “You don’t want to sour him. And Fancy’s been more than patient. Now take the halter off, give him some corn and keep rubbin’ that brisket.”
    “Can we try again tomorrow, Grandpa?”
    Grandpa squeezed Eli’s shoulder. “Your pa will help you tomorrow. It’s time for me to go home. Now get washed up for supper.”
    Eli waited until he couldn’t see the taillights on Grandpa’s Ford pickup anymore. Then he eyed Little Joe. He didn’t want Pa helping him tomorrow, thinking he couldn’t gentle his own bull calf. He had to show Little Joe who’s boss. Or else Pa would. Eli’d lead him out to the silo and tie him up there for a few minutes, just to be sure. And he wouldn’t let go. That’s what Pa was always worried about.
    Eli took the halter from his back pocket. He slid it upon Little Joe’s head so quickly Little Joe didn’t see it coming. But when Eli led him out of the pen, the bull calf froze and started bawling.
    “It’s for the best, boy,” Eli told him. “I need to make sure you know who’s boss.”
    Eli kept tugging until he could hear Little Joe’s hooves tapping on the barn’s cement floor.
The silo’s only a few more steps
, Eli thought.
I can see it through the barn window
.
    Little Joe kept bawling and balking, pulling, then stopping, pulling, then stopping against the rope until frothy rings bubbled out of his mouth when they reached the silo.
    “How else am I gonna lead you around?” Eli asked. “Get you into the show ring?”
    Little Joe squinted and tugged harder on the rope.
    Eli closed his eyes and tugged even harder than Little Joe. Then he felt a release. He wasn’t tugging anymore. Little Joe was beside him, then bolting ahead of him at full gallop.
    Don’t let go
was all Eli could think. His feet swept under him and he heard himself shout into his collar.
    Eli could catch bits of the smoke-colored sky as Little Joe dragged him down the pasture hill. He felt a stab of pain whenever his chore coat rode up and the curly dock and chokeberry bushes beneath the snow jabbed at his skin.

    Little Joe kept bawling and balking, pulling, then stopping, pulling, then stopping against the rope…
.
    “Help!” Eli yelled. He caught a burst of Hannah’s pink coat and her cowboy boots running. He could hear Tater barking before something sharp tore through his sleeve, smothering the shouting. Mud coated Eli’s eyes when Little Joe finally stopped. Eli blinked and forced one eye open.
    They were at the bottom of the field, halfway through the fence, in front of the apple orchard. Little Joe was breathing hard. Eli could feel his arm moving up and down with the breath. He strained to lift his head and saw the bull calf’s nostrils flaring. There were streaks of blood running down Eli’s palm onto the rope, and his butt hurt. But he hadn’t let go.
    Tater caught up and came over, panting. He licked Eli’s nose.
    “Pa, come quick!” Hannah hollered. “Eli and Little Joe are covered in muck.”

Chapter Five
Mending Fences

    Eli fought to keep still. Between Ma’s scissors sending prickly bits of hair down his back and the stitches he got in his hand the night before, Eli was one big itch. The Easter lily sitting at the center of the kitchen table wasn’t helping. The scent from its curled-out petals kept prickling Eli’s nose.
    “Ma, can you move that flower?” Eli wished he could get to