suddenly. It had never seemed possible that I could talk about it with anyone.
I heard his brush swishing again. “I didn’t say that like I wanted to,” he finally said. “I lost my dad too.”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t want to say or think about anything until I was sure the images were gone.
“Not in the same way, but the end result was no different.”
I looked at him again. “What do you mean?”
“I let him down.”
“How?”
“It doesn’t matter. But I have good memories. It wasn’t anything he did.”
I didn’t reply.
“Let’s move on down,” he said.
We worked silently for a while as the sun rose over the pasture and the shadows receded into the far trees.
“What do you like to do, Foster?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“I used to play baseball,” I said.
“But you quit?”
I nodded. He glanced at me and continued painting.
“I like this ,” I said.
“Painting?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Working on the farm. I wouldn’t just do it for Dax.”
* * *
We heard the trucks approaching just after noon. As usual, Gary stopped what he was doing and grew tense and alert. He watched them through the shimmering vapor of the blacktop until they were close enough for me to recognize Dax’s truck. I felt my stomach turn.
“It’s Dax,” I said.
“I know,” Gary replied. “Remember what I told you.”
18
Dax slowed and stopped in the road before us. The other truck, a green Dodge dually with HADLEY TRENCHING on the door, stopped behind him pulling a large flatbed trailer. Mounted on the front of the truck was a black iron grille guard and a Warn winch. The pickup’s oversized knobby mud tires, chrome roll bar, and guttural, throbbing muffler were enough to tell me everything I needed to know about the two men inside. But I’d seen them before. They’d dropped Dax off at the house once. They were big and dirty and didn’t have anything to say to me or Mother.
Dax rolled his window down and looked us over. “You might get to the end of this thing yet,” he said with his friendly voice.
I glanced at Gary. I could tell he was studying the second truck. Then his eyes swung back to Dax.
“How you doin’, Foster?” Dax said to me.
“Okay.”
Then he looked at Gary. “I’m Dax,” he said. “Met you the other night.”
Gary nodded at him.
Dax motioned to his friends behind him. “Linda said that tractor was for sale. I brought my buddies by to pick it up. She said you got it runnin’.”
“It’s a good tractor,” Gary said.
“We got a deer camp we could use it at to plant green fields.”
“There’s a disk behind the back fence. I’m sure she’d sell that to you as well.”
“Really?” Dax said.
Gary nodded. “That and the Bush Hog hooked up to it.”
Dax smiled and winked at him. “I figured the implements came with it.”
Gary didn’t smile. “That’s about a thousand dollars’ worth of equipment you just threw into the deal.”
The smile left Dax’s face. “Well, I’ll talk to the owner about that.”
Gary didn’t reply. Dax looked across the pasture at Joe. He looked at me again. “I’m gonna get your momma some cash in her pocket, kid. That oughta make her happy.”
I didn’t respond. He smirked and looked back at Gary. I felt the tension between them like a rope stretched taut between their eyes.
“I don’t think I like the way you look at a fellow, mister.”
Gary didn’t answer him.
Dax finally turned away and started rolling up the window. “Make sure that dog stays out of my way, kid,” he said.
The trucks pulled off and we watched them turn in to the driveway.
“She should have asked me about it,” Gary mumbled.
“The tractor?”
“All of it,” he said.
* * *
Dax’s friends left with the tractor, Bush Hog, and disk chained to the flatbed. Gary didn’t look up from painting, but I watched them until they were out of sight. Then I
I heard his brush swishing again. “I didn’t say that like I wanted to,” he finally said. “I lost my dad too.”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t want to say or think about anything until I was sure the images were gone.
“Not in the same way, but the end result was no different.”
I looked at him again. “What do you mean?”
“I let him down.”
“How?”
“It doesn’t matter. But I have good memories. It wasn’t anything he did.”
I didn’t reply.
“Let’s move on down,” he said.
We worked silently for a while as the sun rose over the pasture and the shadows receded into the far trees.
“What do you like to do, Foster?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“I used to play baseball,” I said.
“But you quit?”
I nodded. He glanced at me and continued painting.
“I like this ,” I said.
“Painting?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Working on the farm. I wouldn’t just do it for Dax.”
* * *
We heard the trucks approaching just after noon. As usual, Gary stopped what he was doing and grew tense and alert. He watched them through the shimmering vapor of the blacktop until they were close enough for me to recognize Dax’s truck. I felt my stomach turn.
“It’s Dax,” I said.
“I know,” Gary replied. “Remember what I told you.”
18
Dax slowed and stopped in the road before us. The other truck, a green Dodge dually with HADLEY TRENCHING on the door, stopped behind him pulling a large flatbed trailer. Mounted on the front of the truck was a black iron grille guard and a Warn winch. The pickup’s oversized knobby mud tires, chrome roll bar, and guttural, throbbing muffler were enough to tell me everything I needed to know about the two men inside. But I’d seen them before. They’d dropped Dax off at the house once. They were big and dirty and didn’t have anything to say to me or Mother.
Dax rolled his window down and looked us over. “You might get to the end of this thing yet,” he said with his friendly voice.
I glanced at Gary. I could tell he was studying the second truck. Then his eyes swung back to Dax.
“How you doin’, Foster?” Dax said to me.
“Okay.”
Then he looked at Gary. “I’m Dax,” he said. “Met you the other night.”
Gary nodded at him.
Dax motioned to his friends behind him. “Linda said that tractor was for sale. I brought my buddies by to pick it up. She said you got it runnin’.”
“It’s a good tractor,” Gary said.
“We got a deer camp we could use it at to plant green fields.”
“There’s a disk behind the back fence. I’m sure she’d sell that to you as well.”
“Really?” Dax said.
Gary nodded. “That and the Bush Hog hooked up to it.”
Dax smiled and winked at him. “I figured the implements came with it.”
Gary didn’t smile. “That’s about a thousand dollars’ worth of equipment you just threw into the deal.”
The smile left Dax’s face. “Well, I’ll talk to the owner about that.”
Gary didn’t reply. Dax looked across the pasture at Joe. He looked at me again. “I’m gonna get your momma some cash in her pocket, kid. That oughta make her happy.”
I didn’t respond. He smirked and looked back at Gary. I felt the tension between them like a rope stretched taut between their eyes.
“I don’t think I like the way you look at a fellow, mister.”
Gary didn’t answer him.
Dax finally turned away and started rolling up the window. “Make sure that dog stays out of my way, kid,” he said.
The trucks pulled off and we watched them turn in to the driveway.
“She should have asked me about it,” Gary mumbled.
“The tractor?”
“All of it,” he said.
* * *
Dax’s friends left with the tractor, Bush Hog, and disk chained to the flatbed. Gary didn’t look up from painting, but I watched them until they were out of sight. Then I
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