Once when I was young we had a felllow help out on the farm. I don’t know where he came from, he just showed up one day covered in dirt, like he’d been walking a long way. Anyway, grandpa gave him some money for helping out with the hay one day, and afterwards he slept in the old trailer in back of the cow field. The next day he showed up and gramps had him water the animals before lunch. Soon he was just kind of there all the time. We called him Bolero, because that’s what we thought his name was at first. He didn’t talk much, but when he did he had a kind of thick accent. Only after several months someone, I guess it was grandma, figured out his real name which was George. Anyway we kept on calling him Bolero, cos we were used to it, and he answered to it, so it worked for everyone.
Like I said, he didn’t talk much, and kept himself to himself, working hard all day, eating with us silently, then retreating to his trailer to sleep. Once I had to go in there. It was a sunday, and we were going to church and grandma wanted Bolero to come. I opened the door after knocking and recieving no reply. Since I figured he would still be sleeping, I poked my head in. Bolero was asleep under the covers, but one of our bantams was perched on his pillow.
Later I asked him if he had realized that the bantam had been on his pillow and he said yeah, the bantam always came in the trailer. He fed it some bread and it didn’t want to leave. It was a kind of scrawny bantam, never seemed to hang out with the other bantams. He thought it probably needed a home.
After that I often noticed the bantam running after Bolero as he sauntered across the field in the evening to his trailer, and it disappered inside with him.
After a few months Bolero left us, saying he had to be going. No one knew where. None of us asked. After he was gone I couldn’t find the bantam. I looked in the trailer. Nothing. I reckon she went with him.