The sweet milk drew them to the widow, Mrs. Keller daily. Their lips silently spoke of thirst; a parching despair was evident each morning upon their arrival. Mrs. Keller smiled with each new sun as she watched them come in droves. She waited at the door of her barn, tin containers filled with the greenish-white cream. One by one, she’d fill each jug the locals brought. They’d leave with both their spirits, and wallets, much lighter.

They always asked to see the cows that produced her famed product. An off-kilter smile was the only response she ever gave. They talked in hushed rumors of what might be in that old, red outbuilding, what wonderous dairy cattle gave their delicious milk in secret. They imagined a majestic specimen, the fur a color never before seen by human eyes. Others argued she dyed the milk and put something in it for flavor…