Page 4 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight
“Yeah.”
“You worked all day.”
Cole shrugged.
Grady rubbed his chin, then walked back out to have a look. He heard Cole saying something to the dogs and the back door opening.
The sun was below the horizon, but there was enough light for Grady to see the field was, in fact, done. Bit sloppy, but the rows were discernible enough and it’d make for a good crop, all other factors being equal.
Grady tapped his forefinger on his lip and thought he might as well start on the next field. He went back in. Cole was in the kitchen with the bread, butter and meat out, the kettle on.
“You gonna go on up and get some sleep?” Grady asked as he came in to get ready. He stopped because Cole was using everything he needed.
“I’m all right,” Cole replied and proceeded to make sandwiches. “You want relish?” he asked after a moment.
“Huh?” Grady was standing there, watching Cole’s face concentrating on fixing the sandwiches.
“For sandwiches? For the night?” Cole asked tentatively, like he wasn’t sure if he was stepping on some toes again. Grady didn’t like him sounding like that, especially when he was, what? Making Grady’s dinner?
“Uh, yeah.”
Cole gave him a quick smile and got back to it.
“You should just go on up and get some sleep though.” Grady shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched Cole scoop the yellow spread with pickled cucumbers and onions onto a knife and spread it evenly over two slices of bread.
Cole shrugged. “Can’t. I’m a bit wired. You know like”—he glanced up and waved the knife as if to indicate the field—“like I just finished, can’t just turn off.”
Grady grunted but didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t have a TV. He didn’t have much to offer Cole in the way of winding down. He was pretty sure he didn’t even have much to offer Cole in the way of conversation, which was a stupid fucking thought—since when did Grady worry about entertaining the hands?
“Sorry about the dogs,” Cole said as he handed Grady his bag with the sandwiches tucked inside and a thermos. Grady took it because he didn’t know what else to do. His farmhands didn’t usually make his dinner and give it to him gift-wrapped, either.
“Don’t worry about it.” Grady headed out. He stopped at the door and looked over his shoulder.
“There’s some books and a stereo in the front room if you wanna, you know.” He waved the thermos in the air.
A hint of surprise flitted over Cole’s face, but he nodded and gave one of those weird smiles again before looking down.
“All right,” Grady said and made himself leave. Kid’d been on the road for God knows how long, he can look after himself. Grady went out into the early evening and found the truck parked exactly where it should be, key in the ignition. He jumped in and headed for the next field.
4
T
hey managed to makethe handover the following morning without a near-miss head-on because the dogs belted in front of the high beams of the tractor, tails wagging, barks ringing loudly in the dawn, so Grady knew Cole was coming before he saw him emerge into the circle of light, a blinding grin on his face as he greeted the dogs.
Grady cut the engine. He grabbed his bag and thermos, opened the door and hopped down.
“You get some sleep?” Grady asked as he came around the front just as Cole was heading over.
Cole nodded absently, eyes on the dogs. “What’re their names?”
Grady looked at the dogs.
“That one’s Dog.” He pointed at the mangy old cattle dog he’d inherited after his daddy died and left him the place.
“And that there’s Lady.” He nodded at the Border Collie, a white-and-black specimen of perfection, his six-year-old sheepdog.
Cole tilted his head to the side. Grady barely knew the kid, but he reckoned he wanted to say a whole lot about that. But all he said was “Dog and Lady, cool,” and went to get in the cabin.
