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Authors: Sharlene MacLaren
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an unstable ladder handing Ben more roofing supplies.
Ben gazed at him from the roof’s peak. Thankfully, the weather had held off till now, but every minute was touch and go the way the dark clouds loomed. Air so still and close made the warm, early morning temperature seem that much worse.
He gave his friend a rueful smile and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Thom, I’ve asked myself the same thing more than once.”
“Well, I’d say it was mighty generous,” Willie Jenkins shouted up. Hammer in hand and pocket full of nails, he set out to repair the tiny porch. “A little screw-headed maybe, but downright generous.” Ben chuckled and reached for the additional roofing materials.
“Appreciate the kind words,” he shouted down.
“Mighty sticky this mornin’,” Willie added, staring up at the sky.
“We’re in fer a storm,” said Thom.
“Let’s pray it holds off till I finish the worst of this patching.”
Approaching hoofbeats came over the rise just beyond the creek crossing, putting a stop to the conversation.
“Someone’s comin’,” Willie announced.
“I see that. Anyone recognize them?” Ben asked.
Two men on horseback, saddlebags bulging, galloped into view.
“Looks like Jeb Gunner and Sully Thompson. Word must’ve got ’round that we was needin’ some extra help out here.”
Ben settled into a sitting position and removed his hat to run his hand through his scruffy, longish hair.
“Hullo there!” shouted Willie. “What brings you two out here?”
“What’s it look like?” Jeb asked, his ready grin revealing a few missing teeth. Bringing his horse to a stop, he dropped the reins and slid easily from the saddle. “The missus told me I best get out here to help else she’d consider givin’ my supper to the hogs.” He immediately went for his saddlebag and lifted the flap. “Brought out some extra tools.”
Ben laughed. “Sure are grateful for the offer. As you can pretty well tell, we have our work cut out for us.”
“Whoo-eee!” Sully moaned. “This here is what ya call a project!” Still sitting atop his mount, he repositioned himself in the saddle and scanned his surroundings, lazily resting a hand atop the saddle’s horn. Rotted and warped floorboards, already pulled up from inside the house, lay scattered about the ground, while fresh cedar boards stood neatly stacked against the house. Here and there lay bits and pieces of debris that someone had tossed haphazardly, knowing there’d be a huge bonfire later. Taking off his hat, Sully slapped it hard against his knee. Even from his place on the roof, Ben could see the dust fly helter-skelter. Among other things, dust was something all farmers had in common.
“Looks like you spared no expense on them boards,” Jeb noted, glancing at the fresh cedar slats.
Ben couldn’t explain himself, but when he’d gone to the sawmill and seen the puncheon floor boards, mere split logs with their faces a little smoothed over with an axe or hatchet, stacked beside the smooth cedar, there’d been no contest. How could he expect a prim little schoolmarm to walk barefooted across boards that would fill her feet with splinters? To think he’d gone soft was a fear he harbored, so he hoped the matter would pass over quickly.
“Got a decent price,” he mumbled.
“Yeah? You got cedar floors in yer own house?” Jeb asked the question, but all the men waited for his reply.
Ben exhaled noisily. “No, I don’t have cedar flooring. I have oak slats. What difference does that make?”
A lifted eyebrow on Sully’s crusty face hinted at amusement. “Yer awful touchy on the subject. It was a simple ’nough question.”
Ben could have kicked himself for his overreaction. Maybe it was because he wasn’t completely sure himself why he’d splurged. “I suppose I’m feeling the pressure of getting this place finished. We all have crops that need our attention. I figured if I purchased quality stuff I’d be
Ben gazed at him from the roof’s peak. Thankfully, the weather had held off till now, but every minute was touch and go the way the dark clouds loomed. Air so still and close made the warm, early morning temperature seem that much worse.
He gave his friend a rueful smile and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “Thom, I’ve asked myself the same thing more than once.”
“Well, I’d say it was mighty generous,” Willie Jenkins shouted up. Hammer in hand and pocket full of nails, he set out to repair the tiny porch. “A little screw-headed maybe, but downright generous.” Ben chuckled and reached for the additional roofing materials.
“Appreciate the kind words,” he shouted down.
“Mighty sticky this mornin’,” Willie added, staring up at the sky.
“We’re in fer a storm,” said Thom.
“Let’s pray it holds off till I finish the worst of this patching.”
Approaching hoofbeats came over the rise just beyond the creek crossing, putting a stop to the conversation.
“Someone’s comin’,” Willie announced.
“I see that. Anyone recognize them?” Ben asked.
Two men on horseback, saddlebags bulging, galloped into view.
“Looks like Jeb Gunner and Sully Thompson. Word must’ve got ’round that we was needin’ some extra help out here.”
Ben settled into a sitting position and removed his hat to run his hand through his scruffy, longish hair.
“Hullo there!” shouted Willie. “What brings you two out here?”
“What’s it look like?” Jeb asked, his ready grin revealing a few missing teeth. Bringing his horse to a stop, he dropped the reins and slid easily from the saddle. “The missus told me I best get out here to help else she’d consider givin’ my supper to the hogs.” He immediately went for his saddlebag and lifted the flap. “Brought out some extra tools.”
Ben laughed. “Sure are grateful for the offer. As you can pretty well tell, we have our work cut out for us.”
“Whoo-eee!” Sully moaned. “This here is what ya call a project!” Still sitting atop his mount, he repositioned himself in the saddle and scanned his surroundings, lazily resting a hand atop the saddle’s horn. Rotted and warped floorboards, already pulled up from inside the house, lay scattered about the ground, while fresh cedar boards stood neatly stacked against the house. Here and there lay bits and pieces of debris that someone had tossed haphazardly, knowing there’d be a huge bonfire later. Taking off his hat, Sully slapped it hard against his knee. Even from his place on the roof, Ben could see the dust fly helter-skelter. Among other things, dust was something all farmers had in common.
“Looks like you spared no expense on them boards,” Jeb noted, glancing at the fresh cedar slats.
Ben couldn’t explain himself, but when he’d gone to the sawmill and seen the puncheon floor boards, mere split logs with their faces a little smoothed over with an axe or hatchet, stacked beside the smooth cedar, there’d been no contest. How could he expect a prim little schoolmarm to walk barefooted across boards that would fill her feet with splinters? To think he’d gone soft was a fear he harbored, so he hoped the matter would pass over quickly.
“Got a decent price,” he mumbled.
“Yeah? You got cedar floors in yer own house?” Jeb asked the question, but all the men waited for his reply.
Ben exhaled noisily. “No, I don’t have cedar flooring. I have oak slats. What difference does that make?”
A lifted eyebrow on Sully’s crusty face hinted at amusement. “Yer awful touchy on the subject. It was a simple ’nough question.”
Ben could have kicked himself for his overreaction. Maybe it was because he wasn’t completely sure himself why he’d splurged. “I suppose I’m feeling the pressure of getting this place finished. We all have crops that need our attention. I figured if I purchased quality stuff I’d be
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