by Bevin Rolfs Spencer –
One day, Grandma decided to go to the store. “I need galoshes.” Grandma pointed to her feet.
“Oh!” I said. “You mean rain boots.”
Grandma smiled. “No, I mean galoshes. Let’s take Buttermilk. She needs exercise.”
“Buttermilk, the horse?” I asked. “To the store?”
Grandma wrapped a thin yellow scarf over her grey curls. “It’s only a mile down the road,” Grandma said matter-of-factly. She smoothed her brown plaid dress and slipped on her old cowboy boots. She picked up her red patent-leather purse and waited.
I jumped up and followed her outside. Grandma had a little stall and a fenced in area just behind the house.
Buttermilk was a white horse with small brown spots. She turned her ears as we walked toward her. As we saddled her, Buttermilk shimmied to the left and right. I think she knew Grandma was up to something.
Grabbing the saddle horn, Grandma hauled herself up. “Get on Gracie,” Grandma chirped.
Just as I got settled behind her, Grandma let out an ear-splitting, “Whoop!”
Buttermilk jerked forward and rocketed out of the gate. Grandma’s hands flew up and she smacked me with her purse.
“Galloping galoshes!” Grandma hollered as we raced down the sidewalk. We thundered past the gas station and scattered a gaggle of geese. Honk!
Buttermilk flew through the Cool-Mart parking lot and eyeballed the glass front doors. Spooking at her own reflection, she stopped dead, throwing Grandma and me over her mane.
I yanked Grandma back in the saddle. “Where do we park Buttermilk?”
Grandma turned and winked. Just then the doors slid open and Grandma raised that red purse. She gave Buttermilk a Whack!
Buttermilk reared up, nostrils flaring, and charged through the doors. We sailed across the slick linoleum floor like we were in the Ice Capades.
“Steady as she goes!” Grandma said.
Buttermilk glided past the grocery section, skidded around Ladies Active Wear, and knocked over a giant pile of diapers in Baby Care.
“Galoshes?” Grandma hollered at a shocked Cool-Mart employee who dove out of our way. No answer.
We got lost in the toy department until I found a pair of Big Eye Binoculars. “I spy shoes, dead ahead!” I announced, looking through the Big Eyes.
Buttermilk quit skating once we hit carpet in the shoe department. She trotted up and down the aisles.
“What kind of store doesn’t sell galoshes?” Grandma asked.
I pointed to a pair of rain boots.
“Those will have to do.” Grandma reached down and grabbed a pair of blue rubber rain boots with green polka dots. “Look at the price!” Grandma shrieked. Buttermilk again kicked into high gear.
Grandma hung on to the boots while I grabbed her purse. We sped past the registers, and I threw twenty dollars on the counter. “Keep the change!” I yelled.
Grandma aimed for the doors. But Buttermilk hit the brakes. She spun like a top and we went out the doors backwards.
Shocked to be so still, Buttermilk just stood on the sidewalk, breathing hard.
“Look at that, she’s tuckered out already,” Grandma said, annoyed.
“Maybe tomorrow we could take her bowling,” I suggested.
“Sure thing,” Grandma said. “Good thing Buttermilk just got a new pair of bowling shoes!”
the end.
Question Time:
1. What did Grandma want from the store?
2. How did Grandma and Gracie get to the store?
3. What happened inside the store?
4. What did Gracie want to do tomorrow?
