held, understanding creating a momentary truce between enemies. Annoyed to discover the similarity he shared with Jo, Mac nodded his head once and turned away.
Chapter Twelve
Laughter flowed from the back porch out into the cool evening and across the yard to the barn where Mac was busy building a cow shoot alongside the corral. Leif, Charlie, Kirby, Mattie, and Jo were all gathered on the porch playing a round of cards. Every five minutes or so, a cry would come from their direction followed by a merry round of laughter. Yesterday, they had finished the arduous corn pull, and today they had burnt the piles. Mac, using his new tractor, had plowed in between the piles of corn rows to prevent the spread of flames and had left Jo, Charlie, and Leif to tend the fires while he and Kirby rode out to check the cattle that were grazing high up on the ridge line. Puffs of gray smoke still rose from the field as the fire burnt itself out. In a few days, Mac could plough the rest of the field and plant the corn, only one week behind schedule. Hopefully, the frost would hold off this year, and he would be able to harvest later in the fall.
Mac was just hammering in his last nail when the sun disappeared behind the ridge, taking the light with it. Standing back to admire his work, Mac examined the shoot. It was narrow and solid, allowing only one single line of cows. Toward the end, a rope was tied to a piece of thick board, which when pulled caused the board to block the narrow alley, trapping the cow from going forward or backward. Next week, they would be able to try it out when they brought the cows in to be worked.
Mac hung up his tool belt on the nail hook in the barn and strode toward the house, feeling a sense of calm he hadn’t in a long time. The fields were ploughed and planted for the most part, the new tractor was parked in the barn, the fence posts in the pasture were up, the cattle were healthy, and he heard laughter coming from the house. A serene calm settled over Mac as he sank down on the porch steps. The smoky sweetness from the fires created a languid summer haze that soothed his weary body.
“What have you got there, Jo? A journal?” Leif asked as he scooted closer to her and peeked over her shoulder.
Jo quickly clutched the notebook to her chest, giving Leif a light shove with her elbow. “It’s not a journal. I’m writing a letter home,” she replied.
Leif looked at her suspiciously. “You’re being awful protective if it’s really just a letter.”
“Well maybe that’s because I’ve written of you, and I don’t want you to read the offensive description I gave. Let’s see,” she pondered, looking at Leif, “where did I leave off… oh, yes, incredibly nosey.”
“Hah,” Leif scoffed throwing his arms over his head and rocking back in his chair, “I bet it reads, ‘Leif Hawkins…the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Strong, charming, and…’” he paused, his roguish eyes dancing.
“And narcissistic!” Jo laughed, playfully kicking his chair to rock it backward.
Mattie and Kirby chuckled while Charlie asked, “What does narcissistic mean?”
Casually lounging on the porch steps, Mac answered in his low voice, “Swollen-headed and cocky.”
Charlie’s animated eyes met Jo’s, “Did you really write that about Leif? Geesh, what did you write about me?”
Jo dropped her notebook to her lap. “I haven’t written anything yet, Charlie. It’s difficult to write with snoops interrupting me every few minutes,” she glared at Leif, “but…I think I will tell them that you remind me of my brother, Caleb. He always dreamed of being a cowboy too.”
Curious, Charlie asked “Well, what stopped him?”
Jo looked away to the fields, the sound of crickets chirping while she thought of an answer . What stops any person from doing what they dream of ? After a moment she answered, “I suppose life got in the way.” Jo swallowed. “Our father…passed away six
Chapter Twelve
Laughter flowed from the back porch out into the cool evening and across the yard to the barn where Mac was busy building a cow shoot alongside the corral. Leif, Charlie, Kirby, Mattie, and Jo were all gathered on the porch playing a round of cards. Every five minutes or so, a cry would come from their direction followed by a merry round of laughter. Yesterday, they had finished the arduous corn pull, and today they had burnt the piles. Mac, using his new tractor, had plowed in between the piles of corn rows to prevent the spread of flames and had left Jo, Charlie, and Leif to tend the fires while he and Kirby rode out to check the cattle that were grazing high up on the ridge line. Puffs of gray smoke still rose from the field as the fire burnt itself out. In a few days, Mac could plough the rest of the field and plant the corn, only one week behind schedule. Hopefully, the frost would hold off this year, and he would be able to harvest later in the fall.
Mac was just hammering in his last nail when the sun disappeared behind the ridge, taking the light with it. Standing back to admire his work, Mac examined the shoot. It was narrow and solid, allowing only one single line of cows. Toward the end, a rope was tied to a piece of thick board, which when pulled caused the board to block the narrow alley, trapping the cow from going forward or backward. Next week, they would be able to try it out when they brought the cows in to be worked.
Mac hung up his tool belt on the nail hook in the barn and strode toward the house, feeling a sense of calm he hadn’t in a long time. The fields were ploughed and planted for the most part, the new tractor was parked in the barn, the fence posts in the pasture were up, the cattle were healthy, and he heard laughter coming from the house. A serene calm settled over Mac as he sank down on the porch steps. The smoky sweetness from the fires created a languid summer haze that soothed his weary body.
“What have you got there, Jo? A journal?” Leif asked as he scooted closer to her and peeked over her shoulder.
Jo quickly clutched the notebook to her chest, giving Leif a light shove with her elbow. “It’s not a journal. I’m writing a letter home,” she replied.
Leif looked at her suspiciously. “You’re being awful protective if it’s really just a letter.”
“Well maybe that’s because I’ve written of you, and I don’t want you to read the offensive description I gave. Let’s see,” she pondered, looking at Leif, “where did I leave off… oh, yes, incredibly nosey.”
“Hah,” Leif scoffed throwing his arms over his head and rocking back in his chair, “I bet it reads, ‘Leif Hawkins…the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Strong, charming, and…’” he paused, his roguish eyes dancing.
“And narcissistic!” Jo laughed, playfully kicking his chair to rock it backward.
Mattie and Kirby chuckled while Charlie asked, “What does narcissistic mean?”
Casually lounging on the porch steps, Mac answered in his low voice, “Swollen-headed and cocky.”
Charlie’s animated eyes met Jo’s, “Did you really write that about Leif? Geesh, what did you write about me?”
Jo dropped her notebook to her lap. “I haven’t written anything yet, Charlie. It’s difficult to write with snoops interrupting me every few minutes,” she glared at Leif, “but…I think I will tell them that you remind me of my brother, Caleb. He always dreamed of being a cowboy too.”
Curious, Charlie asked “Well, what stopped him?”
Jo looked away to the fields, the sound of crickets chirping while she thought of an answer . What stops any person from doing what they dream of ? After a moment she answered, “I suppose life got in the way.” Jo swallowed. “Our father…passed away six
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