The plowing and seeding and harrowing and
the spreading of shit was finished. New shoots of alfalfa already starting to
poke through the black soil. Too early yet to lay out the vast network of
sprinklers but the pump was serviced and ready to go.
The cows had all calved out. A real good crop, only one lost, the one the grizzly took. Of course his father kept on about that one. You’d think that the future of the whole place rested on that one heifer.
Now the cows and calves grazed on the pasture along the base of the mountains, waiting for the calves to get big enough for branding, the bull calves big enough for turning into steers. Of all the jobs he faced from year to year those were Bear`s least favorite. Then when they had all healed up, they would be driven, along with the bulls, up into the mountains to graze for the summer.
Standing outside the barn, hammer hanging from one hand, Bear stared around, looking for any nail to dare poke out its head. Nothing, not a loose rail, or board showed, every building on the place was a tight as... well, Bear couldn't think of anything to finish that thought.
Well then, maybe now I can fix my damned truck.
The truck, a mid 1980’s 4x4 Dodge Ram half-ton, had been Whitey’s first, and Bear had learned to drive on it. It bore the signs of age and rough use. He had mostly pounded out the dent in the roof from when he rolled it, scared the shit out of himself that time. An older style 4x4, no switching to four wheel drive from the comfort of the driver’s seat, rain or shine, mud, water, snow, whatever, mostly mud he conceded, you had to get out and lock in the hubs on each and every wheel.
It took the rest of the day, sweating, cursing and straining, to remove some of the bolts holding things together. Every single one was seized and after soaking them with WD-40, Bear strained, careful not to put too much pressure on the big wrench, break one off and it would take a whole lot more time. By the time mom called him for dinner there were still six more bolts to go. After giving them a good soak he headed for the house.
Bear felt a little bit more like his old self. He still missed Brit, thought about her constantly with an ache deep inside, but he no longer felt like he didn't fit inside his own skin. Sleeping was still a problem, exhausting himself didn't do anything but leave him tired and grumpy. He kept vacillating between going to find her and being scared of her reaction.
The cows had all calved out. A real good crop, only one lost, the one the grizzly took. Of course his father kept on about that one. You’d think that the future of the whole place rested on that one heifer.
Now the cows and calves grazed on the pasture along the base of the mountains, waiting for the calves to get big enough for branding, the bull calves big enough for turning into steers. Of all the jobs he faced from year to year those were Bear`s least favorite. Then when they had all healed up, they would be driven, along with the bulls, up into the mountains to graze for the summer.
Standing outside the barn, hammer hanging from one hand, Bear stared around, looking for any nail to dare poke out its head. Nothing, not a loose rail, or board showed, every building on the place was a tight as... well, Bear couldn't think of anything to finish that thought.
Well then, maybe now I can fix my damned truck.
The truck, a mid 1980’s 4x4 Dodge Ram half-ton, had been Whitey’s first, and Bear had learned to drive on it. It bore the signs of age and rough use. He had mostly pounded out the dent in the roof from when he rolled it, scared the shit out of himself that time. An older style 4x4, no switching to four wheel drive from the comfort of the driver’s seat, rain or shine, mud, water, snow, whatever, mostly mud he conceded, you had to get out and lock in the hubs on each and every wheel.
It took the rest of the day, sweating, cursing and straining, to remove some of the bolts holding things together. Every single one was seized and after soaking them with WD-40, Bear strained, careful not to put too much pressure on the big wrench, break one off and it would take a whole lot more time. By the time mom called him for dinner there were still six more bolts to go. After giving them a good soak he headed for the house.
Bear felt a little bit more like his old self. He still missed Brit, thought about her constantly with an ache deep inside, but he no longer felt like he didn't fit inside his own skin. Sleeping was still a problem, exhausting himself didn't do anything but leave him tired and grumpy. He kept vacillating between going to find her and being scared of her reaction.
