Republic of Dirt by Susan Juby

floated recently. I have to say, that mule has rotten ground manners. He tried to bite me. Nearly got me in the knee with a savage little kick. He’s not safe for you to handle.”
    “I led him here from Werner’s with no trouble. Well, except for a little bit of trouble at the end. Which wasn’t his fault.”
    “Prudence, Werner is a shady dealer. He’s perfectly capable of doping an animal before foisting it off on some unwary person.”
    “I am not unwary!” I said.
    “Overly optimistic, then. You expect the best of people. And sometimes that’s not the wisest strategy.”
    “Well, even if he was drugged, he’s here now and we need to make the best of it. Of him.”
    “No, you don’t. You need to tell Werner to come and get him. Before someone gets hurt.”
    If there’s anything I dislike, it’s being told what to do. Even if it makes sense. To show my displeasure, I didn’t respond.
    “Do you want me to call Werner? I can borrow a trailer and drop the mule back on his farm myself.”
    “That won’t be necessary. We’re fine,” I said, trying to make my voice sound chilly even though my throat felt scorched.
    The pause stretched out uncomfortably.
    “I checked Bertie over, too,” said Eustace, finally.
    “I don’t like to give unnecessary vaccines,” I muttered.
    The trusty hot-button issue that I could count on to sidetrack Eustace didn’t work this time.
    “Too late,” he said. “Your sheep has been vaccinated against everything from syphilis to gout. You going to let me drive you?”
    First he was trying to drive our mule away. Now he was trying to drive me. I struggled to keep up with the conversation. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep, but I didn’t want Eustace to know that, so I forced myself to remain upright.
    “To the doctor,” he explained. “I doubt you’ve had time to find some alternative quack that meets your approval, so we’ll go to a walk-in clinic.”
    “Absolutely not.” I tried to remember my arguments against conventional medicine, which were legion, but my brain wouldn’t cooperate. “I’m fine. I’ve got someone in mind. I just need to make an appointment.”
    Eustace looked at his watch, which was too large and shiny. “I have an appointment out in Extension at nine. Need to inoculate some piglets. I’ll be back to check on you at ten thirty. If you haven’t made an appointment, I’ll make one for you.”
    I was gathering my strength to tell him how I felt about giving immune-suppressing shots to pigs and about the swine industry in general and share my distaste for being told what to do, but before I could get the words out, he was gone and I fell back into a dark, restfree sleep.

Sara
    W hen Eustace brought Prudence home today, she told us she is waiting for results of her blood work but that the doctor at the walk-in clinic thinks she might have a thyroid deficiency. Or adult mono. Prudence said she wasn’t concerned, because someone told her there was a fantastic new alternative health practitioner who’d just opened a practice in Cedar.
    Eustace kind of smiled at us when Prudence said that, and his smile gave me a funny feeling. Like what if Prudence dies from her thyroid mono and Eustace moves in here and looks after us. He’s very tall and I like the way he smells. I don’t want Prudence to be sick or to die, but I really like Eustace. I’d be proud to have him represent me at the parent-teacher. Miss Singer would be impressed if a real live vet was my dad or at least the person who went to the meeting to talk about my marks, which are all excellent. If Eustace moved in here to take care of us after Prudence died, I’d be sure to ask him a lot of questions about being a vet so that I’m well prepared if I decide to go to vet school when I’m older.
    Prudence didn’t want to talk for long, even though me and Seth had a lot of questions. She said she was feeling much better and that after a short nap she’d come downstairs and