Page 10 of True North

I make it the three blocks to work to find two other women standing around out front. They are in peach uniform dresses. One pulls a drag on a cigarette, a rolled up white apron under one arm. They turn toward me in unison.

“Hi,” I offer. “Louisa, first shift.”

“Lisa,” the brunette with the cigarette says with a small smile.

“Cynthia, hon. And welcome to your first day. You take the regulars, hey? No time but the present to learn their set-in ways.” She winks at me.

I chuckle.

“Sounds good.”

The door opens, a tiny silver bell chiming as it does. The two women file in past the older woman in her peach waitress dress and white apron. “You must be Louisa?”

“Yes, ma’am. Darla?”

With a nod, she waves me in. “Come on in, hon. Your uniform is in back waitin’ for you.”

I beam at her.

So far, so good.

I walk in after the others. Cynthia turns back with astonishment over her face. “Hey! Weren’t you on that cooking show a few weeks back?”

I freeze on the spot. My mouth opens.

Nothing comes out.

Shit.

ChapterThree

HARRY

“Hup-hup!” I ride behind the small mob of heifers. The old man is swayin’ on his mount. Always tanked. Serves him right if he falls off and smashes his face in.

“Harry! Move them up.”

No shit.

The only reason he’s leading is because he’s too drunk to notice when a beast straggles and gets left behind. Even in this small allotment of ours, he’s useless. I wave a hand so he knows I heard but essentially ignore his order.

He’s having one of his rare good days when he is capable of more than layin’ on the daybed for hours. Ma pleaded with me to let him help. Although he’s more of a hinderance, I know she would rather have him out of the house.

Less eggshells that way.

So, I’m more than happy to buy Ma a little parcel of relief from him. With the last heifer in the yards, I push my mare sideways and shut the gate, leaning out of the saddle. The heavy iron loop drops over the wooden post and I sit back in the saddle. Twenty head for the store sale. Should keep the roof over our heads for the next few months.

A far cry from the dairy we ran five years ago. We were too slow. Too outdated, with other farms upgrading to pumps and trucks. The old man couldn’t come at that.No use spending money on something we already do, he used to hiss. So, we got left behind. Outpriced and needing a change.

Cattle ranching became the next logical step.

I wouldn’t go back to milkin’ cows if you damn paid me.

“What time the truck comin’?” the old man says as he sways atop his horse, plodding toward the gate.

“End of day. I can handle the draft if you want to do a perimeter check?”

He glances at the milling cattle. Their brown coats shine in the summer heat. But more importantly, they’re hefty. The pastures I’ve spent three years improving have finally paid off. With this lot gone, I can put more into the business account to make a bid on a bigger place. Maybe even a sizable ranch, if I wait a bit longer.

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