by N. C. Reed
For now.
-
“Why are we doing this again?” Gordy asked as he helped mount another panel of mesh wire inside the tractor shed.
“Supposed to help with lightning strikes,” Clay told him. “That's the theory anyway. Where a lightning rod will allow the electricity to run along the building and then into the ground, this is supposed to absorb it, and run the excess into the grounding cables,” he pointed to the heavy copper wires along the wall. “That's the theory, anyway,” he repeated with a shrug. “I'm just following the directions.”
“We have a lot of problem with lightning strikes?” Gordy asked.
“I dunno,” Clay replied. “I been gone ten years, remember,” he pointed out. “This is something the Old Man and Pops came up with.”
“Well, that will explain it then,” Gordy laughed as he grabbed another panel. “Here you go.”
-
“And what are these for?” Clay asked, looking at a half dozen steel cabinets that had just been unloaded from a delivery truck.
“When we get done, they will serve as smaller Faraday cages,” Leanne told him. “For radio equipment, spare parts for cars, electronic components for computers and other equipment, you name it. Anything that needs to be protected from the surge, this will do it. They will be inside the sheds, insulated themselves, and grounded to the same kind of copper wires. Should protect anything in them.”
“And what has to be done to them?” Gordon asked.
“Same process as the buildings, just smaller and faster,” Deuce shrugged. “We can do this ourselves probably.”
“We 'll help so we can get it done before someone nosy starts asking questions,” Leon was shaking his head.
“Faster we start, faster we're done,” Leanne nodded.
-
“In the event we lose everything, we'll need to be able to make bio-diesel,” Leon Two told them. “For the tractors and other equipment, like the big truck we haul crops and cattle with. Grandpa's truck is a diesel as well, and so is Pa's old truck. Our dad's dump truck and his dozers run on it too. Bio-fuel will be important if we can't get fuel any other way.”
“Bio-diesel comes from rapeseed oil mostly, canola oil, with sunflower oil a close second,” Leanne took over. “We've made a list of components we need to get in order to make the fuel, and it can be stored in the same tanks we store the farm diesel in now. In fact it can be mixed with it, as well.”
“We 'll be ordering new tanks of gasoline and diesel, and keeping them full, too,” Leon informed them. “Our goal will be to have at least a thousand gallons on hand at all times.”
“That's a lot of fuel,” Gordon noted.
“We 'll burn that much or more during harvest, based on what we used for planting,” Clay pointed out.
“That's true,” Gordon conceded.
“That much fuel will give us plenty of time to get a bio-rig up and running,” Deuce nodded. “We'll need to think about having the seed on hand to plant, though. We'll need a lot of it. Several hundred acres.”
“Let’s assume we need two thousand. . .no, lets assume we need three thousand gallons per year,” Leon told them. “Figure acreage for that and then we 'll order enough seed to plant that three times. If we haven't mastered drying seed by then we likely won't ever.”
“We 'll have it tomorrow.”
-
“We're going to have to ask for Aunt Patricia's help at this point,” Leanne told them. “There's no way around it before you start, Pa,” she held up a hand to silence Leon's squawking. “She has the expertise to know what we need and how much we need, and she also has the advantage of knowing every single prescription everyone in this family takes. In order for us to store that kind of stuff, she will have to order it. We 'll probably have to have her order it and then 'steal' it from the clinic if and when the day gets here,” she admitted.
“You two are falling into thievery pretty easy,” Gordon remarked.
“Company we're keeping,” Deuce sighed without missing a beat. Leon was the first to recover, laughing aloud.
“That's a good one boy!” he slapped his leg, clearly tickled. “I knew you had it in you!”
“At any rate, this is more than just a good first aid kit,” Leanne told them. “We're talking about needing anything and everything to treat wounds ranging from snake bites and nail punctures to gunshot wounds and deep lacerations to broken bones. That's a lot of different equipment to need, and there's no sense in our guessing when we have knowledge here to draw on.”
“So we're getting to the point where we have to start letting other people know what's going on,” Leon mused.
“No way around it,” the twins nodded in unison. “We should ideally have had Uncle Robert's input for the radio situation already.”
“So we have to bring the two of them in on it, then,” Gordon sighed. “It could be worse,” he said to the group.
“It could be our mother,” the twins nodded again in unison.
“Stop doing that!” Leon growled. “It makes you look like those creepy twins from The Shining!”
“The who?” they said. In unison.
“I swear if you do that again I'm getting the holy water,” Leon threatened.
-
“I won't be able to come up next week,” Clay told Lainie as they ate Sunday evening. “We start harvesting probably Wednesday. It will be all hands until we get done. Probably about three weeks.”
“I can always come visit you, then,” she grinned across the table.
“Yes, you can,” he nodded. “Just bear in mind that I won't be able to stop just because you're there. Though I suppose you could ride with me for a while if you wanted to,” he offered.
“Think that's a good idea?” she smirked.
“No, but I think you'd enjoy it,” he replied honestly, chuckling. “And it's not nearly as uncomfortable as it sounds. Bench seat, cab covered, heat and air, CD player. All the comforts of a nice car.”
“That does sound a bit more ritzy that I expected,” she mused. “Okay, you've talked me into it,” she nodded. “When should I show up?”
“Whenever you get the notion,” he shrugged. “I'll leave that up to you. Just call and let me know you're on the way down and I'll meet you when you get there.”
“Sounds like a date.”
-
“Boy, you got any plans for the old Troy house?” Leon asked out of the blue as harvest was about to start.
“Not solid plans, no,” Clay hedged.
“Do you or don't you?” Leon pressed.
“I don't know yet, Pa,” Clay admitted. “I may have people coming and I may not. The plan now is for about half the guys from my team to join me here, but a lot can change over time. All of them or none of them may show. I can't know which until it happens so I've made what preparations I can, including some RV hookups. Why?”
“I need to think about a few odd and end people and where to stick 'em when this happens,” Leon admitted. “So, I think I'm going to have a house built over on the Troy place if that suits you.”
“Sure,” Clay shrugged. “What kind of place you have in mind?”
“I'm thinking about either a dorm or a hunting lodge type of place,” Leon replied, clearly thinking it over.
“Hunting lodge might be hard to heat if it has vaulted ceilings,” Clay suggested. “Dorm style with a shared kitchen and mess, living area, laundry and showers would likely be the way to go. You can always have male at one end and female at the other.”
“And if they want to co-habitate? Leon asked him.
“Well, build four halls off the main areas, like this,” he drew a cross in the dust on the ground. “Men, women,” he pointed to two opposite spires, “and then a pair of one bedroom suites on each end of the other two. Those with baths shared with each other. Need to plan on the kitchen and mess being big enough to support them all,” he added as he stood.
“Good idea,” Leon nodded. “I like it.
Take me to Nashville,” he ordered.
Wh-now?!” Clay exclaimed.
“No, next year,” Leon snapped. “Of course now! I need to see an architect.”
“Pa, I'm about to climb on a combine!” Clay exclaimed. “And I likely won't be off one for the next three weeks!”
“Oh, yeah,” Leon muttered. “Damn.”
“Look, get the twins to help you draw up what you want. They can contact the architect for you probably by Skype, video call,” he explained at the odd look, “and then email him the specs. He can draw up your plan and shoot it back to you that way. Be easier than you having to make that trip to Nashville.”
“Good idea,” Leon nodded. “Knew I kept you around for a reason.”
-
“That's not really the best plan, Pa.”
“Your Uncle Clay thought it was,” Leon looked at his great-granddaughter as he spoke.
“It would be for modern heating and air,” Deuce took over. “But in the event we actually have a CME that's strong enough to do the damage we're planning for, what then?”
“What do you mean?” Leon demanded.
“How do you heat it?” Leanne asked.
“How do you keep it cool?” Deuce was right on her heels.
“Stop tag-teaming me!” Leon snapped. “Make your point already.”
“You need a place designed for heating with wood,” Deuce told him, sketching quickly on a blank sheet of paper.
“And with windows placed to catch the breeze no matter which way it's blowing,” Leanne nodded. “And allow that breeze to blow through the house.” Her brother finished a rough sketch and held it up.
“Something like this.”
“Looks like a house from when I was a kid,” Leon grunted.
“When there wasn't any air conditioning and you heated with wood,” Deuce nodded as if his point was made. “This is better. Rooms placed where four rooms, two up and two down, can share a flue or chimney. I don't know that something like that can actually be done,” he pointed to the back-to-back rooms with the chimney between them, “but if it can it would add to the heat factor in the winter.”
“Well, figure what of that it takes to do what I want and then. . .do something with that thing,” he waved at Leanne's computer, “and find me an architect somewhere in Nashville who can design it.”
“Yes Pa,” the pair said in unison.
“ARGH!”
-
Clay was driving the smaller of two harvesters, though that didn't mean much in this case. Ronny was handling the larger machine, being more familiar with it. The Sanders not only had their own crops to harvest, but also several thousand acres they were being paid to harvest for others. It was a handy way to help pay for equipment costs and other over head. Basically, the money they would make harvesting for others would pay for their own harvest expenses and then some.
It was hard work, and monotonous to sit and look at row crops going by hour after hour, but you didn't dare lose your focus lest something bad happen. Something bad with farm machinery usually meant death or dismemberment.
Lunch was often eaten on a truck tailgate while someone else refueled your machine. Bathroom breaks were the nearest tree that was out of sight of the road. And always the goal was to keep moving. Rain, always the ally during growing season, was now the enemy. A cloud coming could signal the approach of muddy fields that would see a harvester mired to the axle in mud, unable to move.
Trucks were kept moving with grain already taken, hauled to the grain buyer in Peabody who would store it until he could send it to the port and have it shipped somewhere to be used. The Sanders' harvest went into their own silos, but that still required transport.
All in all, it was a busy time.
Clay had been working almost eighteen hours a day for four days when he stumbled into his cabin Saturday night. Peeling dirty clothes off as he went, he traveled straight to the shower where he let soap and hot water wash what felt like two acres of farm land away. With that done he climbed into his bed and was asleep in seconds.
He awoke to a very pleasant sensation of another body in bed beside him. He almost jerked upright, but managed to check himself in time. Moving very slowly he found a mass of red hair behind him. At some point Lainie Harper had come in and laid down behind him, hugging him tight as she went to sleep.
Seeing her there, Clay smiled to himself and went back to sleep.
-
Lainie woke before Clay did and eased from the bed so as not to wake him. She took a quick shower and then went into the kitchen. She had correctly assumed that Clay would lack the items for a decent breakfast and so had stopped and gotten what she wanted on her way in from Nashville.
She spent the next half-hour preparing Clay a breakfast of sausages, eggs, biscuits and gravy and hash browns, topped off with coffee, orange juice and milk if he wanted it. After which she went to wake her cowboy.
Clay felt something like butterfly wings on his face and neck as he stirred in his sleep.
“Wakey wakey, Cowboy,” he heard from far away. “Breakfast is ready.”
He finally managed to pry his eyes open to see Lainie smiling at him through blurry eyes. He smiled sleepily at her.
“Hi,” his voice was soft. Tender. She wondered if it was ever that tender with anyone else.
“Hi yourself,” she kissed him lightly. “I have made you breakfast, my Cowboy. Come and eat while it's hot. I don't know what time you meant to be up but it's daylight and after.”
“Long as I'm on the combine by eight I'm okay,” he told her, struggling to sit up. “What time is it?”
“Seven on the nose,” she told him. “Plenty of time. For anything.”
-
“When did that car get here?” Angela Sanders asked no one in particular as she looked out her kitchen window toward Clay's cabin. “I don't recall hearing it go by this morning.”
“Maybe it got here last night,” Gordon shrugged and then winced mentally at what he'd just said.
“Last night?” Angela looked around. “You don't mean she spent the night up there?” she looked scandalized.
“Angela, stop it,” Gordon sighed, putting his fork down. “He is a grown man who has been around the world. Been in combat for almost ten years solid it seems like. Seen more crap than you can possibly imagine. If there's a woman up there he cares anything about and she spent the night then good for them. Now just stop,” he said firmly.
“Well, I just thought he would eventually at least go out with Samantha Walters,” Angela sounded disappointed. “She's such a good girl,” she sighed.
-
“Wow,” Lainie looked up at the cab. “That's way up there.”
“Gotta be able to see,” Clay nodded. “It's not that bad. You can climb a ladder can't you?” he teased.
“I can do about anything I set my mind to, Cowboy,” she shot back with a raised eyebrow.
“Of that I have no doubt whatsoever, Miss Harper,” Clay smiled broadly. “Follow me and put your feet and hands where I put mine.”
Ten minutes later she was seated beside him on the bench seat in the cab. It was a close fit but that suited her fine in all honesty. The giant harvester was bumping along the road and suddenly swerved onto a field road.
“Whoa!” Lainie shrieked as the big machine rocked back and forth. “How about a little warning!”
“Watch for that turn back there,” Clay deadpanned, earning him a slap to the shoulder and a giggle.
“So now what do-” she began but stopped as he lowered the boom and engaged the PTO. As the blades began turning he aimed the harvester down the extreme side of the field.
“Never mind,” she snorted. “I take it this is it?” she asked him after a minute of nothing else.
“Pretty much,” he nodded, not taking his eyes off the track he was on. “Unless something goes wrong of course.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“Well, we could explode for instance,”
he said calmly and waited.
“What?!”
“I just wanted to see if you were paying attention,” he laughed. “There's plenty that can go wrong, but we're fine. Just enjoy the view.”
“I am,” she assured him.
-
“Wonder who that is with Uncle Clay?” Abigail asked.
“I wonder where she got that car,” Gordy was eyeing Lainie's Chevelle. “That is nice.”
“She?” Abby looked at her brother. “It's a girl?”
“Most definitely,” Gordy nodded, having gotten a glimpse of Lainie as she left Clay's cabin.
“He's got a girlfriend,” she almost growled. “He should have told me.”
“Why?” Gordy asked, puzzled.
“Shut up!”
-
“Hey Pa, who is that with Uncle Clay?” Leanne asked.
“What does she look like?” he asked.
“Pretty, tall, long red hair,” Deuce reported. “Got a hot Chevelle too. Looks like a sixty-nine model from here. Wonder if she'd give us a ride in it?”
“Probably Lainie Harper,” Leon told them. “Don't let on you know that,” he told them, smirking. “We 'll just let the others find out however your uncle decides to let them. Deal?”
“Deal,” they said in unison.
Leon just sighed.
“What have you got for me today?”
-
“What's that?” Lainie asked as they neared a truck with someone on the tailgate.
“That is lunch,” he told her, smiling. “My dad, too,” he added. He pulled the machine as close as was safe and then powered it down. Climbing down, he helped Lainie off the last step before leading her over to the truck.
“Clayton,” Gordon nodded. “I brought extra, because I'm such a good guy,” he teased.
“Thanks Dad,” Clay laughed. “Lainie, this is my father, Gordon Sanders. Dad, this is Lainie Harper.”
“Mister Sanders,” Lainie nodded as she took his hand gently.
“Miss Harper,” Gordon smiled. “Your car appearing in the night has sparked a great deal of interest and speculation, just so you know,” his smile became a sinister grin. “If I were you two I'd leave them guessing as long as possible.”
“Okay,” Clay chuckled. “Let me guess; Mom saw her car and didn't remember hearing it go by.”
