Abediah Thornton

Chapter 1 - Monday

Abediah pulled on her boots and strapped her chaps on over her dungarees. Outside the air was already warming and the glow of the sun could be seen inching over the hills beyond the farm. As she walked towards the barn she massaged her left hand. The pain from the arthritis had crept back into her wrist overnight and she could now feel it inching down towards her thumb. But she needed to get to work, so the pain would have to wait.

Walking into the barn she started by saying good morning to Edwin. Her beautiful Suffolk Punch horse. Edwin was an old man, although not as old as her. As the years had passed his chestnut hair had greyed around his muzzle, ears and eyes. He whinnied when he saw her, lifting his big heavy head over the stable door for the carrot he knew would be hidden in her pocket. 'Good morning, old man,' she said softly as she opened the stable door and began walking around Edwin checking his joints for hot patches. Edwin's nose tried to follow her around, nickering softly and trying to get into her pocket. 'Good lad,' she said as her hand ran down his back leg. Her own sore wrist feeling for the heat she knew, inevitably, would be radiating from his joint. It wasn't any worse anyway, and that was good. That was as much as they both could ask for these days.

She met him again at his head and palmed the carrot. Leaving him to crunch in peace, she closed the stable door and continued on with her morning. Abediah's life was pretty consistent. Wake at 5, head out to the yard, feed the animals, feed herself, then back out to move the cattle or clean pens, muck out Edwin or deal with vet visits. The days weren't as busy now. As she and her husband had grown older they had reduced the size of their cattle herd. Now it was more of a hobby, to keep herself busy, than the working farm it had been in their youth.

She took her time with her tasks. Relishing the quiet, the only noises coming from herself, the cows or Edwin. Her husband had gone off to the city on Thursday, as he did now most weekends. Ostensibly he went to sell the cattle. Although she guessed he spent more time in bars or something these days, as there wasn't much in the way of cattle to be buying and selling. In the beginning it had been a monthly visit. Taking bullocks to market, sometimes bringing back new cows or bulls. He would go off on the Thursday, ready for market Friday morning. Then he would stay for a couple of days to see what else was on sale. He would usually be back Sunday night or Monday lunchtime, depending on what he bought or what sold.

Over the years the visits had grown more frequent. Although really she hadn't been paying too much attention. They were married, of course, but they had existed more like housemates for many years now. Their occasional conversation related only to the farm. They spoke to each other only when there was something to talk about, and otherwise lived in peaceable silence. She produced meals and put them in the fridge, he put them in the microwave when he was hungry. Thinking about it now, he seemed to be in the city more than he was on the farm. But she didn't complain. She preferred it when he was gone. She felt more comfortable in her own space, working at her own pace and running the farm, she thought of as hers more than theirs, as she saw fit.

It wasn't that she didn't like her husband. He had never done anything to hurt her or even upset her. But, pondering on it now, she didn't really feel anything about him. He was a bit like the cows. He came, he went, she just carried on. She lifted a bale of hay in the loft, rotating carefully through her waist she dropped it into the barn below. She reflected that this probably wasn't supposed to be how a woman felt about the man she had been married to for over 50 years. She made her way down the steps, now slowly and sideways taking the odd sharp breath when her right knee and hip twinged, holding on tight to the cold metal bar. She was horribly aware these days that a slip at this age was equal to a death knell.

As she separated the hay leaves and shared them among the cows she wondered briefly what it was that was so interesting in the city to keep her husband going back. She had always preferred the quiet of the farm. The city seemed crowded, loud and dangerous, so she had left it to her husband to take the cattle. She couldn't see the attraction at all. It wasn't even like he was a big drinker. But who knows, perhaps he had made friends with other farmers over the years, maybe he just went for the company. Heaven knows she wasn't the best company. Even when he was home he tended to sit in the den, feet up watching baseball. She sat in the nook curled up with a good book.

Hours later, as the evening drew in, Abediah took a cup of hot chocolate out into the nook and sat on her rocking chair. She loved to watch the sun set over the mountains in the distance, even more to wait as colour filled the sky, sprinkling blues, purples, pinks, reds and oranges over the clouds. Slowly, slowly the colours dimmed and faded leaving just the darkening blues. Finally, all that was left were the stars, glittering in the unpolluted darkness that enveloped the farm.