Sangre De Toro (Old Draft - Now Published!)

Chapter 21 - Peckish

Every night, Pepelito had learned, Maribel went into the barn and stayed there until morning. Beatriz had been gone a month; she missed her lifelong companion desperately, and in the barn, her scent was strongest. Pepelito didn't enjoy the barn. He preferred night-time grazing in the open field he had missed for so long; he'd had enough of confinement. Maribel tried to stop him exiting, not because she feared punishment. She simply needed a comforting presence.

She nudged and licked him as he lay next to her. He'd been so happy to find her, but now he wondered if they'd broken something inside him when they cut the tips of his horns. It wasn't just humans who he didn't understand any more. Sad things had happened on this farm, years ago other cows had been taken away and not come back, but she'd never learned to fear and hate humans like he had. If he tried to tell her everything, would she even understand?

Pepelito got up and walked slowly out of the barn. He walked around a bit in the field and grazed. He got his teeth into a big tuft of grass. It was dark. This area was very quiet at night, with a forest behind the farmhouse, and more fields down the hill. But at the bottom of the hill there was a heavy truck coming; he listened to see if he could recognise the sound.

The noise filled him with unstoppable feelings and thoughts as it got closer. Shivering, he walked back into the barn and buried his face in some straw, while Maribel watched him with concern. The vehicle was getting louder; another car followed. Maribel sat up; with a growing sense of fright, they listened together as the truck parked on the track, too close for him.

Then the occupants got out.

He remembered them.

The old girl was outright alarmed; she stood up with a start and stared around the barn, before bolting out of the door, feet skittering on the ground. Her manner unsettled him but he followed her, not wanting to be alone. She started mooing loudly as the men approached the grassy hillside she now shared with Pepelito. Maybe he could run, hide somewhere in the long grass. Maybe he could leap over the fence.

'...yeah. That's him, isn't it, just like on the YouTube video.' The torch light shone in Pepelito's eyes and he backed away, cringing at the brightness.

'Yeah. It is. Look at his brand, that's a fighting bull.'

'I thought so. I'll help you catch him.'

Pepelito watched in terror as about 12 of Castella's assistants marched into the field, straight towards him. He drew himself up, hating their scent, hating their voices, hating what they'd done. He didn't feel like the big, threatening bull he was desperately trying to make himself seem.

He scratched the ground with his hooves and sent a lump of dry soil flying into a tree behind him. In the dark they couldn't see his fear as he walked backwards. Voices yelled behind him. They threw a rope around his horns, tugging him backwards. When the men pulled it hurt his back again. He tried to get free and run forward.

He couldn't.

Someone was grabbing his tail and twisting it hard. Two people had him in a choke hold. He couldn't breathe. One of them punched him.

Pepelito kicked the man pulling his tail. His hand fell away and the bull ran forward into the group of men who seemed to be everywhere, catching someone's t-shirt on his horn. The man tried to push him away, then shrieked in fear and rolled onto the ground. Pepelito slipped and trod onto the man's hairy stomach. The man wriggled and writhed, gasping for air as he crawled away.

He had to get out. Five or six people were holding the rope round his horns; more were pulling the other end from the truck. They yanked so hard he couldn't run any more without hurting his back. He mooed out in pain but no help came. Stones and twigs scratched his hooves as the men tugged him past his gate, across the gravel driveway.