Page 69 of True North

He shoots a smile my way as we file into the sale house. Its round, fenced off pound is circled by stands, like a small grandstand outfitted for buyers. Just beside the gate the cattle come through, a platform juts up. Two men stand discussing whatever is on the clipboard hovering between them.

Chatter echoes around the space. Ranchers fill the space, shakin’ hands and chuckles happening all around us.

“Busy place, Ned.”

He nods, finding a seat and dropping into it before rolling another smoke. “Yeah, I guess. This is nothing to the all-breeds sales in spring. Can’t get a parking spot for miles.”

I sit down in awe, imagining this place overflowing with stud ranchers. That’d be somethin’ to see. The auctioneers call the start of business, and I watch in fascination as the room quiets so quick you could hear a pin drop. Hooves over damp earth move next.

A herd of twenty or so young red heifers trot into the pound. The hammer falls, and the auctioneer bursts into a yodel I barely understand. It’s nothing like the auction of the ranch. I study the crowd, seeing how it moves, the faces they make as they take in the herd. Ned nudges my shoulders.

“Nobody ever wants the first lot. If you want a cheap lot, this it’d be it.”

“What are they up to?”

“Still too low for a profit.”

“So, that would be to my advantage?”

“Yep.”

I raise the bid card in my hand. The auctioneer snaps his focus to it. Pointing to it instantly. A few more bidders raise their cards. The price moves up a little.

The second auctioneer scans the audience.

“Do we have fifty? Can we get a fifty?”

I raise the card. Fifty cents a pound. Times the weight of each heifer, say around five hundred pounds. Only a quarter of my budget. I wait until the crowd doesn’t offer anything else before raising again.

“Fifty, buyer five eight three nine. Sold!”

The hammer falls again. Two men on horses ride into the pound, ushering the small herd back through the gate they came.

“See, too easy.” Ned leans back in his chair.

“I still need another eighty head. A handful of bulls.”

“Shoulda got better seats. You’re gonna be here a while, Harry.”

“You be around later to haul them back to the ranch?”

“Yeah, bud. I’ll be haulin’ all day between your lots and whoever else’s buys I can wrangle to load.”

Ned rises from his seat. The next lot walks into the pound. Cows and calves. A heavier set breed.

The auctioneer starts up, his yodel now fully warmed up.

Here we go.

ChapterEighteen

LOUISA

Iswirl the dark icing around the top of the triple-layer chocolate cake, like I’m Van Gogh putting the finishing touches on a masterpiece. I am a hundred percent certain it will taste like one. So same, same. Mama Mancini’s eyes follow the spatula, never leaving the task.

This cake right here is her legacy, and she is giving it to me. Well, the recipe and the technique, at least. It smells divine. I can only imagine how incredible it will taste. This is the second layer of icing, the first being a crumb layer, and she cuts no corners. Thus, nor do I.

The bell to the restaurant chimes. Her focus breaks. I stifle the urge to breathe in my first useful lungful since I picked up the spatula.

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