Even over Profiterole’s constant barking and the pathetic noises of the goats, I heard a vehicle door slam. I felt torn between wanting to hide from Hanley and a desperate desire for help with the snake. After what I had found in the kitchen, I was not at all sure everything about him was on the up-and-up. I was certain something was wrong with his fertilizing program, and I wondered a great deal about why the fertilizer he was supposedly using wasn’t registered with the state. But I also didn’t want him to walk in on the snake and not give him some sort of fair warning. Still undecided, I lay down in the loft and peered down at the scene below. I heard footsteps, then Connie’s voice.
“Calm down, dog, you’ve scared the goats so stiff I’m going to need a hairdresser to put the curl back in their beards.” Connie advanced on the shivering goats completely oblivious to the snake within feet of her.
“Connie, stop!” I yelled, finally finding my voice. Her neck twisted and she glanced up at me, an even more terrified look than the one the goats were exhibiting on her face.
“What are you doing up there?” She looked angry in addition to frightened. No one likes trespassers and she was clearly no exception.
“Snake!” I yelled, pointing at the reptile bobbing and weaving like a boxer in the middle of the seventh round of a heavyweight fight. She shook her head at me like I was crazy and ignored my warning.
“Dani, come down from there this instant. It’s really not safe.”
“It isn’t safe down there either. Turn around.” I pointed again. This time, she paid attention. It was like watching a movie where as a viewer you are seeing the face of a character that suddenly realizes everyone else is seeing something dangerous that they never noticed. She looked at the goats, then at the dog, and finally, like she didn’t want to do so, turned to where my finger was pointing. I thought she would jump back, but she lunged forward, between the snake and her flock of goats. It darted at her and I did what came naturally. I started throwing more things at the snake. Connie looked up, even more shocked than before.
“Dani, stop it.” She looked frantic and her voice pitched well above all the other sounds. How could she not want help?
“This is the only way I’ve been able to distract it from eating anyone. I’ll try not to hit you.” I lobbed a brick someone had covered in a crocheted granny square, probably to turn it into a doorstop. It nearly hit Clementine and I had to ask myself if Connie had a point.
“Don’t throw another thing from up there.” She sounded even bossier than Celadon and I felt myself getting huffy. The snake arched itself even higher and I disregarded her concerns. I stuck my hand back into the pile and wrapped my fingers around something made of glass with a bit of heft to it. I raised it to shoulder height and prepared to lob it like an Olympic shot-putter.
“Stop. You’ll kill us all!” Connie screamed as if the situation could actually have gotten any worse. I looked at my hand. In it was a syrup bottle shaped like the state of New Hampshire. A paper tag cut in the shape of a maple leaf with Alanza’s name on it was tied around the neck. I recognized Celadon’s prim but elaborate script. The bottle appeared to contain grade B amber syrup. I’d been eating it all my life, but had never seen anyone react like it was life threatening. Fattening perhaps, if used to excess, but never life threatening. Unless this was connected to Alanza.
I lowered my arm and looked at the pile. I knelt in front of it and noticed another couple of items I recognized in among the detritus. Two more bottles of maple syrup from Greener Pastures and a few more maple leaf cutouts were there along with a jar of small pellets that looked like the ones I had seen in Piper’s attic and a zipped-top plastic bag with a pair of heavy-duty rubberized gloves tucked inside.
“What is all this?” I asked, holding up the bottle of syrup in one hand and the zip bag in the other.
“It’s the poison that killed Alanza. You can’t even breathe the stuff without getting sick, maybe dying. Whatever you do, don’t throw it.” More footsteps clattered into the barn and I had never been so glad in my life to see anyone as I was to see Lowell at that moment. Unlike either Connie or myself, he knew to look for a large snake and spotted it straight off.
“You all right, Connie?” See what I mean about remaining calm? He was overwhelmed enough to release his grip on the galvanized trash can he held. Connie burst into tears and I wondered if she was hoping the snake was going to swallow her down whole or squeeze the life right out of her. Graham was hot on Lowell’s heels with his loop-on-a-stick contraption. With as much ease as the snake wrangler guys you see on television, he slipped it over the snake’s head and cinched it down, then pulled the giant reptile’s head toward the floor of the old barn. Lowell stepped up to help with the thrashing, and with less fuss than I would have imagined, the snake was coiled up in the bottom of the trash can, the lid, complete with a few airholes punched in the top, firmly in place.