The Farmer's Son

Bonus Story 2: I Like The Smell Of Him

MARCH, TWO YEARS AND ONE DAY AGO...

In the brown expanse of the untilled field, Bear was a black and white dot, tail swishing gently back and forth on the ground, head turned to the twilight sky. He had been sitting that way for the better part of an hour, and would have kept watch for many more, had a voice not carried across the flat fields towards him. His ears perked back, then his head turned when the voice came again, loud and frustrated.

Bear whined, reluctant to leave, but it was a tone he could not ignore. Glancing back up at the sky he gave a handful of barks, finishing with a strong growl for good measure. Above him, three glowing green lights undulated, then winked out of the sky.

One job done, Bear turned and dashed across the field towards the farmhouse, crossing the earthy boundary into yard, up porch steps, and through the kitchen screen door.

"I'm telling you we can't afford it," Noah said, his voice deep and stern in the confines of the kitchen as he sat at the table with a cup of coffee.

"And I'm saying, we can," Alan retorted, standing opposite his father with his hands on the table. "And we also need help."

"You mean, I need help," Noah said, shooting a sharp look at his son.

"No, I mean we," Alan said with exasperation. "I'm here, too, Pa."

Noah held his son's gaze, and it was clear what was in his mind, that he would not let pass his tongue: for now. He looked away. "We can't afford a new tractor," Noah said, lifting his coffee to finish it. "You'll just have to do the best you can to make it last the season."

Alan pulled back, sucking in a breath through his nose to calm himself, as Noah got to his feet and crossed to the sink to put his cup.

"Bruce said the lumber came in, so I'm heading into town," Noah said. "I'll swing by Dusty for your books on the way back. And," he hesitated, then added, as casually as he could, "since I'm taking the truck to Sal's in the morning, I figure I might as well stay in town. For the night."

Alan's spine stiffened. Glinting eyes looked up. "And where are you going to stay?" Alan asked. "For the night."

"I'm sure I'll find a room somewhere," Noah said, shrugging into his jacket and keeping his back to Alan.

Face twisting, Alan turned away himself. "Yeah," he said with a scoff. "I'm sure you will."

Noah turned to look at his son, but Alan had already stomped out of the kitchen, booted feet loud and heavy on the wood floors of the hall, up the stairs two at a time, until they were finally punctuated by the slamming of his bedroom door.

Standing in the kitchen, Noah sighed. When Bear whined and bumped his leg, he reached down to pat the furry head. "Keep an eye on him for me, boy," Noah said to the dog. With one last pat, he moved towards the hall and banged through the front screen door to the porch.

Bear followed, then stood inside watching as Noah crossed under the porch light swarming with moths and mosquitoes. As the red truck roared to life and headlights swept the porch, Bear turned and raced up the stairs to Alan's room. Standing on his hind legs, he used his front paws to turn the handle and open the door. Slipping inside, he jumped up onto the bed beside the figure and began to nuzzle it.

Facedown in his pillow, Alan listened to his father's truck fade into the distance. Once it was completely out of hearing, he pushed off from the bed.

"He's not the only one who can 'find a room somewhere' for the night," Alan muttered, and began peeling off his clothes.

Standing in front of his closet in his birthday suit, he reached in, shoved his hanging shirts aside, and looked down at a trunk at the back of the closet, right under a large scorch mark on the wall. Inside were his summer clothes, but what he wanted was something he had been saving, something hidden all the way at the bottom.