The Farmer's Son

Chapter 10 Help Where Help is Needed

Rolling and curving fields of green corn stretched as far as the eye could see from the side porch of the farmhouse, unfurling in the light of the sinking sun like a carpet of swaying shag, as the day set in a blaze of brightness and warmth. Firmly in the grip of May, the heat rose exponentially, radiating off earth and man alike, and most days Ray already had a line of damp down his back before he even left the house. It never got this hot in Montana, not even at the height of summer—which they had yet to hit—but Ray didn't mind. He was getting used to waking up to heat and sweat and corn, a steadiness he hadn't enjoyed in a long time.

He was also getting used to Noah springing projects on him. As a task entered his mind, that's when Noah assigned it. So when the man banged into his room at the end of the day, and said to follow, Ray did without question or annoyance.

Banging open the back door, they descended the steps to the ground, their boots crunching through wood chips and small chicken bones from Bears dinner the night before. Crossing the back yard, they left the bright, hot sunshine for the slightly less hot shade of the garage, full of dust and the smell of oil. Three walls with metal racks of spare parts and tools hung out in the gloom, while Noah led Ray towards the far corner, where something covered under a dark tarp lived.

Gripping the edge of the tarp, Noah flipped it back in a great disturbance of dirt and dust and cockroaches. Underneath was an old, brown pickup truck, smaller than the red, without wheels or doors.

"Figured it was about time you had your own way to get around," Noah said. In addition to the red truck was a Jeep Wrangler in a dark green that belonged to Alan. "Hasn't run since before Alan was born, but age don't seem to matter to you when it comes to machines."

"No, sir, it doesn't," Ray said, already looking at the truck with a sparkle in his eye. With Noah at one end and he at another, they folded the tarp back to reveal the whole thing. Inside, the leather seats were peeled clean, and the back trailer all but rusted off. But the chassis was solid, and the engine workable.

"Control yourself," Noah said, looking at Ray's too excited face.

But Ray could not help it and gave a laugh as he opened the door and hopped behind the wheel. Noah shook his head. "You been spending too much time with Alan," he said. Walking around the truck, he braced one hand on the outside mirror and looked down, causally crushing a roach beneath his heel. "He still mad at me?"

Ray, horizontal across the seats to look under the dash, glanced through the windscreen at the man's lowered head. "You know him better than I do, sir."

Noah nodded.

Ray sat upright and braced his arm on the wheel. "It might not be my place, sir," he said. "But you didn't really think about what to do with the farm when you bought it, did you?"

Noah wiped his heel in the dirt and grunted.

Ducking out, Ray hopped down from the truck to the ground. "I don't think he's mad you bought it; he gets why you did. I think he's mad you did it behind his back."

"I was going to tell him," Noah said. "But they were about to take it, pull it down and plow over it. I had to act fast."

"And now?" Ray asked.

Noah squinted at his hand, still on the mirror, as he scratched at the rust with a fingernail. "Alan had some ideas."

Ray hid his smile. "That he did, sir. And they sounded like pretty good ones to me."

Noah grunted again as Ray jumped up on the back and rocked the truck slightly. He turned away. "You know where parts are," he said, walking out. "Anything you can't find here, give Sal a call."