The Red Cow

“So Close.”

“So Close.”

“If so close, why do we sit talking until the cows come home? He's failing.”

“Or flailing,” said the first.

From within their coterie of three, one dealt cards emblazoned with their candidate's emblem. In the faint gleaming of a single light reflected upon a number of glass and synthetic windows, the shadows of campaign bunting lent a cave like appearance to the office. After a series of silent hands Aaron stood and shook his head, like a cow trying to disturb a pesky fly.

“What's wrong?”

“Our failure's as assured as his is. What could we hope to achieve?”

“I don't understand your haste,” said Matthew from his seat, hands limply displaying his cards, “We've been at this nearly two-thousand years, another century isn't the end of the world.”

Ezekiel stood to join Aaron, his fist crushing the seven of spades before dropping it to the carpet.

“Don't speak of time, our waiting began long before yours. But, it's finally time to take the bull by the horns.”

“Our plan was always a fool's errand. He doesn't even complete the criteria.”

“He's a cow,” said Aaron as he held up one finger. Ezekiel snorted, and Aaron smiled, but Matthew frowned.

“Are we not diligent, are we only gossips?”

“Don't have a cow,” said Aaron.

All awkwardly standing, performed an odd dance around the table in an attempt to reseat themselves.

“He's red,” said Ezekiel after a moment.

“In more ways than one,” said Aaron. They looked at Matthew, whose eyes stared at a spot on the table.

“What's your problem?” asked Ezekiel.

“Let me tell you a story of perplexing intention." began Matthew, "A red heifer was born to a young man in the area of northern New Mexico. He rejoiced for with this miracle he might transport this world into the next. But when he inspected her mantle he found one hair void of pigment. Foiled but determined, he embarked on a breeding program, and after many years his herd of crimson cattle were the superior (and more secret) to any in the land. They numbered seven hundred, seventy-seven, and the youngest he deemed unblemished.

Proud, wise, and exhausted by his deeds he slept, but when he awoke in the morning sun he saw not a hair of one. After he beat his breast in lamentation he inspected the pasture. A gate, certainly closed the night before, was open but not a cow had left through it. Instead a horde of hoof prints appeared to enter. Yet, in desperation he followed the tracks for a day and a night until he entered a strange country he'd never seen before. Frantic to reclaim his prize he observed neither the exotic plants or the otherworldly mountains.

Finally, on the next morning, he entered a box canyon and spread before him was his herd. They basked in the elaborate greenery, and frolicked in a clear spring-fed pool.

A cave with carvings, an embroidery of moss, and a marble pillar drew his attention. Approaching it he saw a reed pipe placed on a rock. At the entrance he plucked a strawberry from a foreign bush. Inside he found the hide of his fairest heifer, and wept as if she were his beloved. When he could cry no more he gathered his property and urged them out of paradise.

I will continue my mission, having lost only the scion, not the progenitor, he thought to himself.

But as he crested the rim he heard a fair voice call to him.

“We are not finished you and I,” it said to him. “You will not speak or move, unless I ask, so listen.”

And the man found he could do neither, as if the cells of his body obeyed a command more powerful than his brain and soul.

“You have trespassed on the path which exceeds mortal man. They have noticed and prepared themselves, but I have played your game, for that is what I do. Today I feasted on your prize, but that is not all. Every cattle has felt the yoke on its neck, and all shall.”

“What do you want of me?”

“I am a merciful man. No, rather I am enamored of trades and I shall offer you a fair one. Your herd is fantastic, but you have put them to a devious purpose. If you will trade them, barter them, and manage them for a business you will have success beyond your needs. Make them cash cows. But if you return to your prior mission, I will know. And I will feed upon the fairest and break the remainder with the yoke.”

The unusualness of the ordeal convinced the man and he ordered his cattle as the unknown stranger demanded. Great success was his, but as he lay dying he told his only son the story, and said, “Begin again.”

Ezekiel and Aaron looked at Matthew as he fell silent, but he did not return their gaze.

“Here,” Aaron finally said as he pulled a picture from his pocket and held it out.

“Hm?” said Ezekiel as he took it between thumb and finger.

“It's a picture of our heifer, we need to make sure he's without blemish.”

“Oh, well if we are only considering his face, he might fulfill the requirement. The common interpretation of the text implies physical characteristics rather than behavior.”

Matthew avoided the questioning glances of his coworkers at that moment by reaching into his pocket.

“Holy cow!”

“What is it?” said Aaron.

“Our candidate is calling me,” he looked around desperately, “What should I do?”

“He's not going to win,” said Ezekiel.

“But does he fulfill the last condition?” said Aaron.

“On which a yoke has never come... I think we can agree he's never done any manual labor,” said Ezekiel.

“Then he's the one,” said Aaron, waving his hands in the air. “Quick,” he said turning to Matthew, still on the phone, “tell him he has a speech in Jerusalem. You'll call him back when you have the itinerary.”

“What about winning first?” said Ezekiel.

“That opportunity is long past, while we'll soon command no influence, no persuasion, no power. It must be now.”

“Then let's send him off in grand style. Our sacred cow, on his way to the holy land.”

“To the end of the world.”