Agnes to the Rescue!

AGNES

Uncle Mac studied Aunt Agnes morosely from the comfort of his old and battered armchair. Farm Girl, equally glum studied the old hillbilly from the same article of furniture. It was a snug but comfortable fit.

In other circumstances, they would have been quite content.

"Guernsey!" said Agnes.

Agnes sat at one end of the scarred hand built picnic table, a yellow legal pad on the table, and a pencil in one hand. A Lone Star beer occupied the other.

She started to write the word, frowned, and then scratched out what she had written.

"Gosh dern it, already got thet one."

She gnawed the eraser end of the pencil with one precariously mounted tooth.

"What air the names of some cows?" she addressed to no one in particular."

George Mallory, who had been standing by the wood stove sipping a cup of tea, cleared his throat.

"Agnes, old girl, do you mean the names of breeds of cattle, or of individuals, like Bossy or Daisy?"

"Breeds." replied Agnes, "Like, er..."

Here, she consulted her list.

"Guernsey."

She looked up, hopefully.

"A clue, esteemed Auntie! What State are you in?"

"Uncommon sobriety", was the reply. "Ah aim to fix thet right quick like."

She made half the Lone Star disappear.

"No, no dear lady you misconstrue. Let's try; Where are we all at this precise moment?"

"Right here in the danged shed! What kind of clue air thet?"

"Insufficient, apparently. Think of location in terms of states names. You came from Texas as a young girl..."

"During the Roosevelt administration", whispered Farm Girl

"...but now you find yourself in?", Mallory concluded.

"NEW JERSEY!" said Agnes. 

"New! New? Gnu! Thar we go! Gnus!"

She touched pencil to paper but then paused.

"Gnus ain't cows!" she stated firmly, sure of herself.

"But what comes after New?", persisted Mallory, who never faltered when the odds were stacked against him.

"Lions, mostly. Crocodiles too Ah reckon."

"Think states names Agnes!"

"New...? Jersey? Jersey! Yas! Jersey cows!"

"Now thet wasn't so hard!"

"Easy for you to say." said Farm Girl. "It gave me a headache."

"I'll rub it for you." said the ever helpful Uncle M.

"Texas Longhorn!" chirped Aggie, "Holstein!"

The bovine dam had given way.

"That is not my head!" said Farm Girl, not sounding especially upset.

Vida G had been eavesdropping from one of the lofts.

"This is my fault." she said

"Don't blame yourself, Vida, the old bastid rubs it every chance he gets." said Farm Girl.

Vida ignored her.

"Agnes and I had been discussing how the Garden Shed blog is dying on the vine. It was her considered opinion that as the official roving reporter of all things sheddian it was my job to jump start the rejuvenating process on behalf of us all."

"Black Angus!" whooped Aggie

"I agreed", said Vida, "but I told her I just could not seem to get started and that I needed some sort of catalyst. Agnes said she'd see what she could do."

"BEEFALO!" shouted the Pride of Texas, and drained her Lone Star.

TWO BEEFALO