Will saw the dust before Frank’s Chevrolet came into sight. He had called Frank and asked him to come, but he wasn’t sure what to expect. A year earlier, Will would have been astounded by Frank’s interest in his welfare. But Frank had changed. Maybe he had some of their father’s tenderness after all. Maybe he wasn’t all Grandpa Duffy. The transformation seemed to have followed Jessie’s disappearance. Maybe death was on his mind these days. Or maybe—who knows—but he liked the new Frank better.
Will walked to the drive as Frank pulled into the yard. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I thought I’d inspect your equipment before the auction. Might be something I can use.”
“I keep my machinery in good repair. It’s not the machines I’m concerned about, it’s the horses. It’s Fanny Too. I’d like for you to buy her.”
“I’d not want her if you gave her to me.”
“I can’t give her away.”
“Don’t know how I’d use her. I got two tractors now.”
“Come to the house.” Will grasped Frank’s arm. “Mary’ll make a cup of coffee. Maybe she’s got an English muffin, too.”
When Will reached for the door, it rushed at his fingers, and Pickle brushed him on his flight out. “Sorry, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. Gotta feed the horses.”
“Hold on, Jason. I want you to meet my brother Frank. This is my new man, Jason McGraw.”
Frank nodded.
Pickle said, “Hi,” but he didn’t pause in his rush toward the barn.
“The most horse crazy kid I ever saw,” Will said.
Coffee aroma filled the entryway.
“That sure smells good,” Frank said to Mary. “Worth the trip for a cup of good coffee. Makes an old batch think he should have a woman.”
“Git on with you. No woman would have you.” Mary hugged Frank. “What brings you?”
“Didn’t you hear, woman, I said your coffee. Maybe an English muffin, too.”
“You’ll not get an English muffin in this house.” She frowned at Frank, and then she broke into a smile as she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “I might find a Cornish one someplace.”
“That’ll do just fine. How’re the girls? Haven’t seen them in ages.”
“Well, Sharon finished teacher training and she’s married now. Living up near Logan Junction, on a farm. She married Ed Meadows, Earl’s son. And Ruby’s taken over the Dodgeville hospital. She’s head nurse there. That girl’s a hard worker.”
“How’s little Catherine? Always had a soft spot for that girl.”
“She’s not so little anymore,” Mary said. “She finished teacher training, and now she’s a teacher. Like Sharon. Like me.”
Will was surprised to hear that Frank had ever noticed his youngest daughter. He led his brother to the parlor and directed him to his old horsehair. “Won’t you consider buying Fanny Too? I raised her as a colt, you know.”
“A horse is expensive to keep. I don’t need a pet.”
“She’s not just any horse. You know how I feel about her, how I felt about her mother. Will you do it for me?”
“I’ll think on it. Money’s hard to come by. I thought you couldn’t afford a man.”
“I can’t. The bank’s paying for it. They know the buildings and equipment will fetch more money if they’re in good shape.”
Mary brought two cups of fresh, steaming coffee.
“I can’t pay him much, but he needs the money. He’s getting to be a pretty good worker, too. Now my girls are gone, he kinda fills an empty space.”
After Frank left, Will joined Pickle in the barn. “I’ll pull the disc harrow out of the shed. I’d like for you to clean it today.”
Pickle forked the last bit of soiled bedding off the stall floors. “Soon as I get fresh straw down, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. Okay?”
“Sure, Jason. Finish with the horses, then get at it.”
Will wondered how the horses would fair with new owners. Sad thing, losing old friends like this. “I’m going to hitch Fanny Too and Mabel and bring in a load of corn. I should be back before you’re finished. If I’m not, give Mary a hand in the garden.”
“Okay, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”
Will hitched the horses and headed towards the field. When he returned two hours later, he walked past the machine shed on his way to the house. He circled the harrow. The boy works hard. It looked new. The bank’s not getting short-changed here.
He found Pickle husking a pile of sweet corn. “Jason, that sun was hot out there today. I’m going to take a nap. Will you feed and water Fanny Too and Mabel? Walk them a spell first. They’re pretty heated up.”
Pickle sprinted two steps toward the barn. Then he stopped and turned back. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy, thanks for lettin’ me tend them. I sure do love horses.”
“I know, son.” Will sighed as he watched Pickle race toward the animals. He knew the feeling.
Will sensed trouble when he woke from his nap. Maybe it was because he couldn’t find Mary. Maybe it was a sixth sense about his horses. He knew something was wrong. He hurriedly pulled on his coveralls and rushed toward the barn. Mary kneeled in Mabel’s stall and Pickle looked down from the rail. “She’s sick, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. Somethin’s terrible wrong. She won’t get up.”
Will recognized the problem as soon as he saw his downed horse. She was bloated and breathed hard. “We’ve got to get her up,” he said. He tied a long rope to her halter and handed it to the boy. “Jason, you pull from the top of the rail. Mary, help me lift from behind.”
Pickle pulled while Mary and Will lifted, but they couldn’t get her fifteen hundred pounds off the floor. Will knelt beside his downed horse. She neighed softly, and her pupils rolled. “Come on, Mabel. You’ve got to help us.” He lifted her head and tugged harder, tugged until she got to her knees. “That’s it, old girl. Pull, Jason.”
With a lunge that almost toppled her forward, Mabel staggered to her feet. “Good girl. Now, let’s walk. Jason, come down and take her outside. We need to keep her upright if it takes us all day.”
“Will she be okay,” Mr. O’Shaughnessy?”
“I hope so, but if she goes down again, we’ll have to call the vet fast. He’ll have to stick her.”
“Stick her?”
“Puncture her belly, let the gas out. She’s badly bloated. It could kill her.”
Pickle grimaced as he led Mabel from her stall. “That’s awful. Is it my fault?”
“After you watered her, did you feed her fresh alfalfa?”
“Well, yes. I thought she deserved new hay after she worked so hard. Fanny Too wouldn’t eat any.”
“Fanny Too’s a wise old girl. She knew better. It’s not your fault, Jason. I didn’t think to tell you. They’ve been on grass all summer. I don’t feed the alfalfa until it’s thoroughly dry, and then I blend it with timothy at first. Their stomachs can’t take the change, especially when they’re hot and watered.”
“Oh, Mr. O’Shaughnessy, I could have killed her,” Pickle said. “I could have killed her foal.”
“Yes, but you didn’t. I think they’ll be okay, son.”
* * *
The days passed quickly. Pickle cleaned machinery while Will harvested the crops, sometimes assisted by a neighbor. Mabel recovered and seemed ready for the harness, but Will delayed placing her in the hitch. Instead, he used Ned and Ted more than usual. He didn’t want to put the colt at risk. And Fanny Too deserved a respite, too. He wondered what her new owner would demand. Will shivered. He hated to think she would end up with someone who’d whip the last mile out of her.
The auction was two weeks away when Mabel gave birth. It was a strapping young colt that Pickle instantly adopted as his own. Will had difficulty keeping Pickle at the machinery, he was so enamored by the new foal. But he was ahead with his work, so Will didn’t keep him and his sweetheart apart more than was necessary.
Will and Pickle were sweeping the barn’s walls when Will heard the sound of an automobile. “Now who could that be?” he said. “I wanted to get the barn whitewashed this morning. I need to get to the field this afternoon. Maybe it’s Saul. He said he’d come over to help harvest corn.”
A voice called, “Will, are you in here?”
“Why, it’s Frank,” Will said to Pickle. “What could he want?”
“Will?”
“Over here, Frank. By the horse stalls.”
Frank ambled past the stanchions to where Pickle and Will mopped the sidewalls. “We’re getting ready to whitewash. You come to help?”
“The lime makes me sick. I hire mine done.”
“You can afford it.”
“Will, I want to see you alone for a minute. I’ve got something to show you. Mary wouldn’t happen to have some fresh brew, would she?”
They walked to the house, but couldn’t find Mary. “She must have gone outside,” Will said. “Should be back in a few minutes.” Will checked the coffee pot. “Empty, but she’ll make a pot when she gets here. It’s better fresh, anyhow.”
Frank dropped his cap on the chair and pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket. He handed it to Will. “Got this from your boy.”
Will inspected the scrawled address before he dug out the letter. “It’s his writing. He hasn’t had much schooling.”
He read aloud.
“Dear Mr O’Shaughnessy. Im the boy you met at your brothers last month. Will has been mitee good to me but I’m worreed bout his horses. Them gitin sold and all. You no how he loves Fanny Too. She’s a good old horse. I think it may kill him lossin her. I no he asked you to buy her and Id be much obligd if you wood. He cod visit her at your farm and no shes ok. I dont have much mony but Id help pay her keep. I coud send a dollar a month or whatever I can scar up. I promise, Ill try. Please do this for Will.
“Jason McGraw.”
“He doesn’t make much money, does he?” Frank said.
“Very little, and besides, he needs it for his family. He does love the horses, though.”
“Will, I think it’s you he cares about,” Frank said.
Will was only a little surprised. He’d sure miss that boy.
“I’ll take a rain check on that coffee. Gotta get back.” Frank snatched his cap off the chair. “There’s work to be done.”
Will watched as Frank rushed toward his car. He still had a lot of Grandpa in him.
* * *
Pickle cleaned machinery each day. When he suggested they paint the rusty old plow, Will said he didn’t think it would bring enough to justify the work. When Pickle insisted, Will said he had a gallon of red metal paint in the machine shed, and that he’d look for it after breakfast. “You’ll have to scrape the rust first.”
Pickle scooped the last cold fry from his plate and rushed outside. “The boy’s obsessed with getting things ready,” Will said to Mary. “He keeps so busy that he neglected the horses this week.”
“It’s too painful, I think. He knows it’s almost over.”
Will didn’t want to think about it either. He’d not only lose the farm and the horses, but the boy, too.
Pickle worked two days on the old plow, and now it looked almost new.
“You’ve done fine work, Jason.”
“I’ll miss the farm, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”
“I’ve been thinking, son. You’ve earned your pay, deserve more, but I don’t have it. I want you to have the colt. Do you think your Aunt Tessie will let him feed in her pasture, maybe help with expenses? If she’ll agree, I’ll hold him out of the sale.”
“Oh, Mr. O’Shaughnessy! Can you do that?”
“Probably shouldn’t, but I will. You deserve it, son. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”
* * *
On the day of the auction, Will smiled when he saw his brother’s Chevrolet among the early arrivals. By now, he wasn’t sure what to expect from Frank. Attendance was always dependent on the weather, so Will was glad for the warm, sunny day. He was surprised to feel so keen about the auction’s outcome. He supposed it was a matter of pride.
Pickle hadn’t been around all morning, but Will knew where to find him. He stopped for a moment to let his pupils adjust when he left the intense sunlight. “Jason, are you in here?” Will shaded his eyes and looked toward the horse stalls.
“Mr. O’Shaughnessy, over here.”
Will entered Mabel’s stall. He was glad the bank agreed to let him hold the colt from the auction, but the cost was high: Will offered a sum that was surely more than the foal would bring. Still, Will believed he got the best of the deal. He was sure of it when he saw Pickle’s tenderness and love for the youngin’. He thought about the day that Fanny Too was born, and knew how the boy felt. Pickle had seldom left the colt’s side. The bond was good for the colt as well.
The bank also agreed that whoever bought Mabel must allow the colt to stay with her until he was weaned. That could be a problem. The little one wouldn’t be ready to leave his mother for several more months. “Well, Jason, take good care of the little darlin’. Pretty soon, you’ll be all he has.”
Pickle looked up with a wan smile. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy, I’ll miss the farm.” He averted his eyes. “I’ll miss you.”
“We both need to move on, now don’t we, son?”
Will stepped toward Mabel’s stall, hesitated; then, he turned toward the sunlight. It was a dark day.
* * *
The auction began with the machinery. Will knew they wouldn’t get much for his horse drawn equipment, now that most everyone had tractors. Will was glad to see enough bidders to compete, and they bought more than he had expected.
Will was anxious about attendees’ fear of brucellosis in his herd, but the cows he’d brought to auction had all been certified healthy, and he pressed the auctioneer to make that clear to the crowd. He’d even invited his veterinarian there to answer questions, and, at the last moment, he convinced Callison to make a statement to the bidders before the first cow was brought to the block. Will hoped that his cows would bring premium prices.
And they did. The best ones brought more than he’d paid Frank for his cows, and the others brought as much. To be selling now when good cows were hard to find was a stroke of luck. Maybe there’d be a little money left over after the bank got its dues.
Then the auctioneer’s assistant led Fanny Too to the front. “She’s got some miles on her but she’s been well kept. You can see that, gentlemen,” the auctioneer chortled. “Lots of hours left in her. What am I bid? Fifty dollars?” He looked over the disinterested throng, then back at Fanny Too. “Clint, bring that other gray out.”
Clint led Mabel into the arena, and the auctioneer shouted to the crowd, “A great matched pair. Buy one, buy them both. I’ll sell the team.”
Frank placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Is this your idea?” Did you tell him to sell those as a pair?”
The auctioneer called out, “Who’ll give a hundred for this fine pair of animals?”
Most of those nearby walked away to inspect other items.
Half a dozen men stayed and eyed the two horses that stood before them, Fanny Too resting one hind leg.
Frank appeared disinterested as he slowly circled the men who gathered around the horses.
Will took pride in seeing there was interest in his matched pair, but he hated the thought of losing his friends. Maybe no one would bid.
When a voice called, “I’ll give a hundred,” Will felt emptiness. He looked toward Frank who slowly backed away from the action.
Another voice called out, “One fifty.”
Will turned away and started toward the barn. He couldn’t bear to watch any longer. He heard a voice behind him shout, “Two hundred.”
The auctioneer called, “I’ve got two-hundred. Two-fifty, do I hear two-hundred-fifty?”
There were no more bids.
“Going once,” the auctioneer called. “Going twice.”
Will’s face burned, and, as he stepped into the barn, he steadied himself by grabbing a nearby stanchion.
He heard the auctioneer shout, “Last chance, at two hundred it’ll go to—“
Then Will heard a familiar voice call, “Two hundred-fifty.”
There was a long pause and the usual summation of “going once, going—“
Will was out the door by the time he heard the auctioneer cry, “Sold!”
He raced toward Frank who stood hands on his hips with a sour look on his face.
“Darn you, Will. What’ll I do with two broken down nags?”
Too choked to speak, Will grabbed his brother and hugged him. This wasn’t at all like Grandpa.