Imprisoned

A prisoner in my own home!

The Cowboy, who runs this place, says I was bad. Says I was living up to my name, Calamity Jane. Says I was causing trouble. Says I have to be in jail for awhile.

Janie2

I don’t know how long a “while” is, but I maintain I was only doing what any good mother would do.

You see, there’s this calf . . .

It’s not mine, but its mother wasn’t paying any attention to it, so I adopted it.

But those other cows were only visiting, and that cow went home, and took my baby with her.

So I felt sorry for the baby, and I tried to go get her back.

I had to travel quite far . . .

Through fences and gates . . .

And across a pond.

I hollered and hollered, but the Cowboy caught me redhoofed, racing back and forth across the pond bank, in a pasture where he says I wasn’t supposed to be.

But I was desperate — looking for my adopted child.

That dog of his, and that beastly yellow horse . . . they made me go back to the barn. Without my baby.

And now I’m in jail. Indefinitely.

Janie1

I’m still protesting.

Janie4

But the Cowboy says that baby isn’t mine, and I can’t just go stealing other cow’s children, and tearing down fences, and going places I’m not supposed to.

These are all crimes, and now I must pay. I’m really wondering how long a “while” really is.

Janie3

At least the meals are good!

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