Chapter TwoA Chapter by Kelly M.Roy reached his hand down to finger the soil. Dry. Roy sunk to his knees and swept off his hat, wiping the dripping sweat from his forehead. The sun burned overhead. His green eyes searched the sky. Blue. Bluer than a robin's egg. He bowed his head. There wasn't a cloud in sight. He ran both his hands through the soil again, praying for some sign of life, silently begging for rain. He knew the consequences if the fields were too dry to plant-- he knew them all too well. His father had lost his own farm before because of the drought, and Erma would lose hers. His throat tightened and he swiftly returned his hat to his head and stood, the sun behind him reflecting his tall shadow in the dirt. For the life of him, he wouldn't let that happen to her. The sound of a clattering buggy up ahead suddenly caught his ear and he lifted his eyes to see two blurry outlines, bumping along as the country lane narrowed towards Erma's ranch. Roy briskly brushed the dirt off from his pants. He'd nearly forgotten Erma's niece was arriving today. "For the whole summer," Erma had said a week ago with a grunt. He smiled as he picked up his stride. It was just what Erma needed-- a visit from family. "You're my family," Erma had said once, surprising him. He'd known Erma all his life, and she was like a grandmother to him, but they weren't related by blood. But after Isaac had died-- well, he felt an unexplained duty to take over her farm, run it as if it were his own. They were next-door neighbors, and long-time family friends. Initially, she'd argued with him about it like a stubborn mule, putting her foot down and declaring she wouldn't accept charity; but eventually she had no choice but to accept. Roy never regretted the decision-- moving into the lean-to behind the house, becoming Erma's full-time hired hand. He was independent, and liked it that way. He wasn't like the rest of his friends, eager to settle down, start a family-- he wanted to work with his hands, be his own man. And Erma treated him like her own. Nevertheless, she needed company-- female company. This niece of hers will solve that, he determined. But, then again, he didn't know much about these things, and certainly didn't care for womenfolk in general-- they were all too chatty, too flighty. His mind flash-backed to last week when Erma had tried to hitch him up with Widow Ethel's daughter, Billy Jean; and Roy nearly choked all over again at the thought of the heaping serving of raw chicken she'd served him with a big, toothy grin. Why, the woman had nearly poisoned him! "How was it?" Erma had asked him before he'd nearly gotten a foot in the door that evening, after, miraculously, being able to head off seconds of Billy Jean's spoiled eggnog. Silently, Roy had moved to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of black coffee before he finally turned to her, leaned himself back on the kitchen sink, and said calmly: "I'll die a bachelor before eating another one of Billy Jean's concoctions." Erma had whacked her cane on the floor as she hobbled off, muttering how beggars couldn't be choosers. Roy's thoughts quickly jolted back to reality when he heard the buggy clatter to a stop up ahead. He lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the burning sun overhead, and watched from a distance as Erma shot out of the buggy, her face set with a rigid edge, and her ever-faithful cane in tow. He noticed her waving it in the air towards the flushed traveler for a few moments, then scuttled away into the house, leaving the city girl, as thin as a willow leaf, standing by a mound of luggage, dressed in her Sunday finest. Roy took a deep breath, and slowly eased his way towards the newcomer, his boots making imprints in the dry earth as he walked. She would need a whole lot of welcoming. © 2015 Kelly M.Author's Note
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2 Reviews Added on May 9, 2015 Last Updated on August 27, 2015 AuthorKelly M.SCAbout"The Spirit of God made me; the breath of the Almighty God gives me life." Job 33:4 more..Writing
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