Will paced the floor. He knew that deception had a way of fueling its own ambition. He felt ashamed that he hadn’t told Mary right away. Heaven knew he tried, but when he’d told her he had talked to George Tyler, she misunderstood and said, “So you’re going to join the progressive folk in town? I’m sure George will loan you the money. Have you seen the light? Have you decided to put money into mining stocks?”
“Well, no, Mary, I — ”
“He won’t loan you the money?”
“Yes, he’ll loan the money, but it’s — ”
“Well?”
“It’s not what you think. He offered me a chance — ”
“Can I tell Miss Fontenot that we’ll invest a thousand dollars?”
“Mary, I told you. I won’t buy mine stocks.”
“We’ve got four thousand in our savings, but if you don’t want to use that… You just said that George will loan the money, didn’t you?”
“We’ll talk about it later.”
Will was to meet George at two o’clock and they would go look at the place today. But he didn’t have the courage to raise the issue again with Mary.
“Will, I know you want to return to farming,” George Tyler said. “This is as fine a dairy farm as you’ll find in all of Iowa County. I never expected to have the opportunity to sell it.”
Will knew the farm, and he knew that Bill Yahnke had dropped dead unexpectedly. “Why can’t Matilda keep her hired men and run it herself?”
“I suppose she could, but she doesn’t want to run a farm. She says she doesn’t think she can be a manager. Knows how hard Bill worked at it, for what good it did him.”
Will thought about Grandpa’s words and icicles trickled down his spine, but he felt a sense of triumph, too. “I suppose she wants to go to town.”
“She wants to take the money and buy a house in town. She wants her daughter in town school.”
“Maybe she’d be interested in our house.”
“Maybe, but it’s a bit large. There’s only the two of them now.”
“I suppose so.”
“It’s a big farm, Will. As far as I know, the most acreage in Iowa County. He milks forty cows.”
Will thought about the time it would take to milk forty cows: ’bout ten minutes a cow by hand. Why, that’d be almost seven hours, twice a day. Twenty’s the most Grandpa ever freshened, and that was only one summer. It took Grandpa, him, and Frank to do the milking and to get the harvest in.
“Is Mary up for it?”
“I haven’t told Mary.”
“Oh.”
Will saw the big barn on the horizon. Everyone else had red barns, but this one was white, the only one like it in the county. It stood high on the hill and seemed to shout, “Look at me. I’m big and I’m mean, and I’ll devour anyone who tries to manage me.” This was the kind of barn Grandpa would have died for — Frank, too. “Are you sure the men will stay with a new owner?”
“They’ve been with Bill a good while, but he paid top wage.”
What if milk prices drop? Will thought.
Will had to turn his head to see the whole complex: three full corn cribs, a machine shed longer than his father’s barnyard, and a granary larger than his father’s milk barn. When Will looked in the barn, he saw a wide cement slab runway with twenty-five stanchions down each side flanked by gutters all the way to the end.
“He’s not even milking to capacity,” George said.
The work it would take to keep this farm going! Will thought about Mary.
Back at George’s office George pulled a contract from his desk drawer. “You’ll never have another chance like this, Will.” He snickered as he handed Will a pen and pointed to the signature line. “Buy this and you’re going from a Ford to a Cadillac.”
Will winced.
“Put your four thousand down, and I’ll gladly loan the rest. It’s a good deal for the both of us.”
“I’m not sure I can make all the payments. Not until I sell the house and business.”
“You’ll have no problem selling your dealership. It should make a good profit, too. I’ll charge interest-only until you’ve made the sale. You’ll never get this chance again.”
Will knew George was right. When he thought about returning to farming, he never expected anything like this, not in his wildest dreams. Wouldn’t Grandpa be surprised? The best farm in Iowa County. He wasn’t sure how to tell Frank: tell him outright, gloat a bit, or maybe take him for a ride and watch his jaw drop when Will ordered his men into the fields?
He put the pen on the paper and began to write, but then he hesitated. He thought about Grandpa’s words, thought about Mary. He wrote, “William.” He began the “O” in “O’Shaughnessy”, but then he dropped the pen and stared at George, not saying a word at first. “I can’t do it, not without talking to Mary.”
* * *
This was the moment that Will dreaded. Supper was over, the girls were off to bed, and Mary darned socks in the parlor. He knew he couldn’t hesitate. “Mary, we’ve got to talk.”
“Yes, Will. You’ve had second thoughts about that mining stock?”
“No, I’ll not buy mining stock, but I do want to buy the finest farm in Iowa County.”
“A farm?” She dropped her darning needle. “Will, are you crazy? We’re already doing better than most people in town.”
“This is the first time I can afford a farm. But I never expected one like this, not in my wildest dreams. Bill Yahnke’s farm. East of town.”
“People say that’s too ambitious for Iowa County. People say that farm killed Bill.”
“He’s got lots of workers.”
“It didn’t do Bill much good, now did it?”
Will cringed. That thought had passed through his mind as well. “You know I’ve always wanted to farm.”
“But I’m not ready to quit teaching. Not yet anyhow.”
“You can keep working. I’ll have three hired men.”
“Will, come to your senses. I’ve never farmed, but most of my students’ parents do. I hear all the time how hard their mothers work.” She stood and faced Will. “You say you’ll have three men. Who’ll cook their meals? Who’ll wash their clothes? Who’ll make their beds and mend their garments? Do you plan on staying in the house and doing that work while I’m off at school? And who’ll help in the barn if a man leaves or gets sick?”
Will squirmed on his chair. He knew Mary was right. But he’d been so enchanted by this chance to surpass Grandpa and Frank. Hired men meant lots of work for the lady of the house. He hung his head, slumped in his chair, and exhaled. “I wasn’t thinking clearly.” He knew he shouldn’t do it, couldn’t do it.
“Will, I know how you’ve always wanted to farm, and I understand your feeling. But the Yahnke farm is a big undertaking, more than we’re ready for, I think.” She knelt in front of Will and took his hand. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take some of that money and build a new stable for Mabel, Fanny, and the new foal.” She took Will’s head in her hands and kissed him tenderly. “It’s not the Yahnke farm, but it’s a step in that direction. And we won’t have to sell the business or the house. And I won’t have to quit teaching.”
“S’pose so.”
Mary was right. He should have talked to her first, but he was so close to having what he always wanted. He knew his passion for the Yahnke farm was driven by the wrong reasons. Still, he felt as if he’d lost his last opportunity. He’d never again have a chance like this to prove Grandpa wrong and to see Frank squirm with envy. Would he ever have his own farm, even a small one? He felt a tinge of regret, but a sense of relief, too. He’d been so distracted that he hadn’t watched Fanny as closely as he should, but he knew it was getting close to the time for her foal’s birth.
* * *
Will had scrubbed Fanny’s stall and was lining it with dry, fresh straw when the first signs occurred. He wrapped her tail and had begun to pitch new hay into her manger when she circled her enclosure looking for a spot to lie down in preparation to break water. After finding a comfortable position, she pushed hard and groaned as the fluid gushed forth. Soon, Will saw another thin sac appear, and he could see the foal within as its front hooves pushed into the daylight, one slightly ahead of the other. When the legs were out to the knees, a nose and head began to appear. Will remembered the first time he had seen this miraculous sight, and he felt shivers run the length of his spine. He knew that he must help, so he grabbed the clean towel that he’d brought from home, wrapped it around the emerging feet, grasped tight, and gently pulled the front feet down toward the mare’s hind hooves. This would help rotate the foal’s head into position. He then pulled straight in line with the mare’s spine until the head and shoulders were safely outside the mother.
He knew that Fanny needed some rest time before completing the process, so he waited fifteen minutes for her to calm and catch her breath. Then he extracted the foals feet, and when the mare stood, the umbilical cord broke with little bleeding. Will grabbed the iodine solution that he’d previously prepared and coated the newborn’s umbilicus. This would help prevent infection. Then Will sat back and watched this new miracle of life as she searched for her mother’s teat. Until now, he’d been so busy that he hadn’t taken time to admire his new youngin’. To Will, a new baby, human or animal, was the most beautiful sight in his world. She looked just like her mother. As handsome as any creature that God had placed on this fine earth.
* * *
Sharon wanted to stay overnight with a friend, and said that she’d go see the foal later. So Will took his two youngest girls by their hands and said, “Okay, girls, cover your eyes until I say open.” He led them into the stable and up to Fanny’s stall. “You can open them now.”
Ruby squealed, then climbed on the rail and leaned toward Fanny who nudged her outstretched hand. Catherine peered between the rails while Will stepped into the enclosure and urged the foal toward the girls. “Isn’t she the cutest?” he said.
“Is that a Fanny, too?” Ruby said.
“Yes, she is. A fine young lady if ever there was one.” He brought the girls into the pen, and they snuggled and petted the new baby. Fanny stood near and seemed quite satisfied to let her newborn get the attention.
When they got home, Ruby shouted, “Mommy, we just saw Fanny Too, our new horsey. She’s beautiful, so soft and cuddly. Better than my teddy bear.”
“I thought I’d call her Maud,” Will said. “I used to have a Maud when I was young.”
“Oh, no,” Ruby said. “She’s Fanny Too.”
Ruby was so earnest and determined that Will didn’t have the heart to disagree. “It looks like we’ve got a new horsey, and she’s Fanny Too.”
As Fanny Too grew, Will could see that Fanny’s stall would soon be rather tight for the two of them, so he put money into a new horse barn to be built on the edge of town, closer to their home, and next door to Widow Schmidt’s house.
* * *
Will rushed into the house. “Mary!” he shouted, but received no answer. When he looked out the kitchen window, he spotted her in the back flower garden, turned, and raced out the kitchen door. “Mary, let’s go look at the new stable. The frame’s up and they’re finishing the roof today. It won’t be long before it’s ready.” He took the trowel from her offering hand.
“I’m ready for a break.” She arched her back. “I must be getting old. I don’t remember being so sore last summer.”
“There’s twice as much garden this summer. And, Mary, I mailed the fire insurance premium.”
“Most people say it’s a waste of money.”
“They never complain after their building burns down. Besides, the baker eats his own bread, now doesn’t he?”
“But what are the chances?”
“I don’t like taking chances. Come on, get your jacket. There’s a cool breeze blowing from the west.”
Will could see that the corners were square, the white pine studs straight, and the underlayment secure and tight. The roof, now completely shingled, looked as if it could withstand any wind that swept across the hills. “The Mangardi brothers do good work.” He pointed as he led Mary into the structure. “Four stalls, and each one bigger than those in the Commerce Street barn.”
Mary looked puzzled. “That many? We only have Fanny, Mabel, and Fanny Too.”
“You never have too much space.”
“People already think you’re a bit daffy for selling cars and keeping horses. When they see this, they’ll think you’re completely off your rocker.” Mary grabbed Will’s arm. “You’re not building your farm a barn at a time, now are you?”
“And I thought I could get away with it, yes I did. Should have known I couldn’t fool a Corny woman.”
Mary swiped at Will’s backside, but Will intercepted her hand and led her around the wide aisle that circled the stalls, back to a six hundred square-foot space where double doors, each hung on three heavy cast iron hinges, opened to the outside.
“There’s enough room to hold two or three weeks of hay and bedding. Dad won’t have to deliver twice a week anymore.”
“I wondered why you built out in the country. You sly, old Irishman. You are building your farm one barn at a time.”