Harvard Comes To Montana

Harvard Comes To Montana - Chapter Thirty-Five

By Griz

umgriz@protonmail.com

Hi, Good Men;

Chapter Thirty-Five.

My mind has been occupied with myriad other obligations recently. I have missed this story and the characters, and I've missed our emails back and forth, too. Thank you for continuing to email, and thank you for checking on me.

The month of August has lot going on for Team W, Team S, Team `Common Grounds'. August is the last month Jozef, Tom and Kristi will have before six years of school follow it. Reality is visiting the farm for awhile. They'll be okay; they have each other.

I guess we should let them get to it.

Thank You, Men;

I'm appreciative and grateful for all of you.

With Respect;

Griz

*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.

All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***

Dreams came fast for me on winged creatures pulling chariots. With lightning-quick speed, they commanded my attention for a few disjointed and illogical moments, barely gone before their replacements raced forward. Dreams of, curiously, my mom and dad fighting about something, and Aleksy trying to offer comfort that his eighteen year old self barely understood or had to give me.

Then I was twelve, and Dad and I were back on the farm after the auction that won me my 4H project. I was bouncing on the seat with excitement to let Sebastian out into the corral and to spend time with him, getting to know each other and trying to make sense of the commitment I'd made to Dad, 4H, and now my (temporarily) little steer. He wanted to play that first day. This was so much better than having a dog! He wanted to play anytime he and I were together. There wasn't as much running now, but there was just as much `Tag, You're It', carrots and apples, ear rubs and love for my once-little, now-huge Guy. I dreamed of him enjoying more awards, more adoration, all in a bigger corral. He had his own swimming pool. Who knows why we dream what we dream.....

Right on time, I was awake at 4:30AM. Marc's head was not on my chest. We shifted in the night, my back was up against his chest, an arm around mine, holding me. My important mission now was to extricate myself from his protective embrace without waking him up. Before I embarked on that well-intentioned mission, I covered his arm with my own, specifically the palm of my hand on the back of his. I loved our connections, day or night. We clung, but we weren't clingy. It was never communicated as Do you see me?! You see me, right?!'. We spoke I see you' with the very eyes that saw each other, confirming what our hearts had already felt.

Marc breathed deeply, his warm air aimed at the back of my neck. Then came the stretch, and once fully elongated to his natural length, Marc held himself tightly against me and brushed his hand lightly across my chest.

"Morning, Babe."

"Morning. Hi."

I rolled over so we faced each other, pulling him so our chests touched. I moved my left hand down to palm his ass, rubbing it just a little.

"Sorry I woke you, Marc. I'll get out of here so you can get some sleep."

"You didn't wake me. I set my watch for 4:30AM."

"You want to get up this early?"

"I see the wisdom of rising early, especially when it means doing some of the work here. If Jon, Kelly, Trace and Toby are going to Hill County, I need to know more of what I can do here so you're freed up to do whatever you're going to do---which might be here or on the new property with Tom and Kristi."

"I'll never say no to a man who wants to farm, and I'll definitely never say no to this man, whatever he wants to do. So, what do you want to do?"

"Love you for the rest of my life, more and more each year. And hunt for eggs, clean out the stalls, take the horses out, get them fresh straw and hay and oats, rotate the hay in the loft, check on the pups. After that? Coffee and breakfast. Then whatever else a farmer does until Noon, at which time I'll go back to town to work on the book."

"I don't deserve you."

"You don't deserve my underwear, but you deserve me."

"I'm certainly gonna try to deserve you. Thank you for being even more a part of this family and farm. I'm grateful. If you want, we can go through the morning chores together. We'll finish early, and then what do you think of you and me being the ones to get breakfast on the table? Mom has lots of strawberries in the fridge that grow in the garden. Fresh cream, too. I'm thinking about.....Belgian waffles. And your underwear. But with you in `em."

"I'm thinking you're brilliant, Babe. Let's go."

I laughed and pulled him out of bed and right into my arms for the first of many embraces we'd share throughout the day, from before sunup to after sundown. The chores were nearly effortless. This wasn't the first time Marc had done them, but with repetition comes efficiency and speed. Between us, we were done with the chores in a little more than an hour, washed up in the barn and back in the house to eat breakfast, change clothes and begin the `Grown-Up Work', as I'd known farming almost all of my brief but incredible life on Farm W.

We made it to the kitchen just as Mom came out of her room. She was also cleaned up already, and unless my eyes deceived me, looked ready to drive into Civilization. Both Marc and I got kisses on the cheeks while we began working the waffle factory. I was mixing the dry ingredients for the batter and Marc was making coffee.

"Oh, you boys.....how thoughtful. We haven't had these in a long time!"

We had them last week.

I hoped she was just speaking with exaggeration. Was this going to be a growing part of my future? Wondering just where we all were in experiencing Mom's diagnosis? This was never again going to be as easy as her wondering where she'd left her keys or driving glasses. Maybe it would be, but none of the rest of us would be thinking it was that easy anymore. Those lectures in The Big Montana Cities would tell us more, I hoped; but I knew none of us on the second floor of the house were waiting to hear from experts.

What we gained now might be what we would need again later in Aleksy's and my lives. And our kids'. It's never just one thing for one person. It's never just waffles for breakfast a week ago or in another month. It's generations of a team on a farm together around the clock. We all feel the West wind and we all accept that it's just gonna keep blowing. Our choice was simple: lean against it, or bend away, but always stay planted firmly to greet that damned wind. We might learn at these lectures that bending is better sometimes, but today, we lean.

Mom sat at the kitchen table, checking her phone for texts and emails.

"Your aunt is coming to visit. She wants to meet the Sangers."

"Oh.....does she need to approve first? We kind of already offered a plan."

"No, not at all. It's just good business to meet the principal players, even at the earliest of stages. I sent her an email after dinner to let her know what happened and how it went. Not all of it; not about Tom and Kristi. Just the Hingham farm."

"Will Auntie Pat stay here? We have time to get the room next to ours set up."

"Actually.....she wants to stay at the Yogo again."

"Mom, she can have our room; Marc and I can stay in town."

"That's nice of you, and you're generous to offer your own space. I'll extend that to her, but I think she has some town agenda while here, too."

"Okay. Marc, are you gonna get any strawberries in that bowl sliced, or are you gonna eat `em all??!"

He looked up guilty, while popping yet another delicious, tart berry between his lips.

"Oh. Yeah....."

Marc looked like an adorable little kid enjoying fresh strawberries. Can't fault him for being adorable. We all laughed and he resumed his intense, now-quota-expectant work.

"There are dozens more in the garden, Marc.....don't let Jozef bully you. Trust me: if you were mixing the batter and he were cutting up the berries? We'd be having plain waffles!"

I had no argument for that, but I turned as red as the berries as one of my truths was revealed. As I see it, if you're gonna live on a farm, eat what you grow; you have to lead your customers by your own good example.

My big brother came in with Eva, both looking rested. Good. They deserved even a few minutes' more of sleep where they can get them. Aleksy kissed Mom, and then just to be silly or because after years and miles apart we didn't want that distance anymore, he kissed my cheek and then Marc's. We all laughed. Inside I glowed. From yesterday to this morning, brothers on thousands of acres right next door felt the worth of brotherhood and the comfort in expressing it. Trace and Tom shared a love that Aleksy and I had: brothers in the house, partners on the team. All of us were lucky, blessed and happy to realize that while none of us were older than our Twenties.

The Reality Of Twenty-First Century Communication made itself known that morning. Perhaps not for the first time, but certainly the first time I noticed it, all five of us had our eyes buried in a phone or tablet. Mom checked the weather and Agro reports out of Billings and Chicago. Harvest was in, yeah; but we traded in commodities, and keeping a watch on trends throughout any year was a daily responsibility. Those numbers can determine our course of planting for the next harvest.

Eva and Aleksy had the iPad open between them, reading something silently. A couple of times, I noticed Eva raise her eyes to my brother's, and after a moment of nonverbal but explicit communication, he'd nod or she would; and that was that.

I noticed a text from Tommy, and a photo that K had sent to him. It was a close-up of the ring on her finger and a caption reading, `I don't remember what that finger looked like before you put the ring on it, Tommy'.

"Hey, ya Polish Pud-Licker; please share this with the family."

I did, holding the captioned photo up for them all to see from my phone. Smiles all around. We were part of that moment, that experience that can come only one first time for anyone. In my mind, it the became about keeping score: one touchdown. Two to go. Win the championship, rings for everyone. I sent a text back.

"`Polish Pud-Licker', Tom? I don't think I know what that means......can you explain in great detail, and if possible, demonstrate said knowledge?"

He was, of course, also awake and getting on with his day.

"You could've just stopped with, `Tom, I don't think'. That would've been a statement agreed upon by everyone. Why ain't my horse here yet? I can't live without my horse."

"Yeah, well, he's doing just fine without you. Carve out maybe a few minutes with your boy later, okay?"

"Yup. When?"

"I'll ride over about 10:00AM, unless you'll be in the middle of something."

"From now on, I'll always be in the middle of something: farming, calming Ma and Pa down (a big task now that they're gonna be grandparents), counting diapers, helping K pump breast milk, feed and burp a kid, and if there's any time remaining, I might get some more farming or a little studying done. Sleep will be a fantasy. Jeffrey.....did last night really happen? I'm gonna farm, family and school? Did I just dream that?"

"Nope. No dream, and yeah, you're really gonna do all that. You CAN do all that, so it'll happen. We're gonna eat now. Waffles! See you at Ten."

"Ummm....."

"Yes, I'll bring you a couple of waffles. With strawberries."

"Thanks! It's like you can read my mind!"

"Not easily.....the fine print is really small in a really small mind, Fucker."

"Hate you, mean it. Fuck off. Bring my horse. SMOOCH! smileyface"

Heh.....my boy Tom.

Marc had a curious expression on his face. It wasn't outright anger, but something wasn't pleasing him at the moment. I'd be happy, were we alone, to park his perky, pert stud ass up on the table and please it with with my entire face for a good three hours, but the others were still eating, and we had work to do. Another time, definitely. Really, though.....what was up? I sent him a text.

"You don't look happy. Still pissed off I stopped you from fellating that entire bowl of strawberries?"

"Smart-ass. No. Wrench in the works suddenly, or possibly one. I need to talk with you. Not now; later this evening. I have a couple of phone calls to make. Can you come to town this evening?"

"Yeah. Maybe we farm together another day. Go get started on whatever it is that has you looking constipated from eating a diesel motor."

"Your mind, I swear. It's a good thing you're hot and have a horse. Really, though: sorry for bailing on you, but I think sooner is better than later to attend to this. And I know you'll worry, so I'll say: please don't. This isn't bad news. Just not part of my plans. We'll talk. Also: I'll clean up after breakfast."

"Me, too. XO."

Rather than respond by text, Marc looked up and smiled at me, and rubbed the shin of one of his legs against the other of one of mine. Another day, another opportunity to fall in love all over again with my college professor/farmer/author/man. And that was that. We all finished breakfast, discussed the day, and Aleksy walked Eva to her car. Marc, Mom and I tackled the clean-up, which was barely an effort with six hands at work. I had a to-go clamshell in a cabinet, so I got it out and parked three waffles in there with lots of butter and syrup on em, and mounded with the last of the strawberries. Cold waffles = Cold pizza = Cold showers. All three are better nice and hot and shared with someone you love, but if all ya can get is any of em cold? Well, quitcherbitchin'; ya still got fed and clean.

Mom's phone rang, and whomever was calling her at 7:00AM, it was a call best handled in the little office off the kitchen. Marc and I went back upstairs so he could get his laptop. Once in the room, he closed the door, walked over to me and gently pushed me backward on the bed. I smiled and laid there in anticipation of absofuckinglutely whatever was going to happen next. Marc climbed up on his knees and straddled me, smiling down and leaning forward with his hands on my chest.

"Jozef, you are.....beautiful."

"So are you."

"I love you."

"Me, too, you."

"You've had a lot going on in the past few weeks. Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. True, lots has happened, but nothing is boring out here. I think I'm fine. I really miss Dad. Every time something really good or really scary happens, I wish he were here to see it or save me from it. Still my dad, still his little kid."

"I wish I could've met your dad. Was he like you?"

"Only in looks.....well, not only. I got his sense of humor.....or he got mine. Really, though: if you know Aleksy, you know Dad. They have the same sensibilities, the same serious demeanor. I can see my brother's wheels turning the way Dad's did. To be honest, I think the only reason I'm not a puddle of worthless farm-goo every day is because my brother is my strength here now. He chose this---and us---over a college career. Marc, I don't think you chose me over a college career, but you chose to be here. Somehow I feel like everything is going to be all right because two incredible college professors and incredibler men are on Team W and Farm W."

"You were a big part of why I chose to stay here, Jozef. Yeah, the superintendent job would've been nice, and yeah, it's something I wanted. The timing and the team weren't right. THIS timing, this team, this farm: very much right. Last evening was better than any baseball game I've gone to, or Broadway show I've seen; it was magic to watch those kids share their love with each other, and to commit to a commitment in a week or so. And then, what your family did to benefit yourselves and another family.....I would never have known such open and honest displays of community and love, if I hadn't been here to help my grandparents. I think what would make this all perfect: if The Grandies were still here. I miss them more than I thought I would."

"I get that. Marc, I know you'll be going to New England soon. I'm fully behind you if you want to also go see your grandparents. I agree with something you said a couple of days ago: Time is on no one's side. I don't know what's involved in writing a book, as far as establishing timelines and progressing along them; but I imagine an earlier interruption is better than one in the middle, or later."

"Thanks.....you are so young to be able to see bigger pictures so well. That's a good thing. I don't think I'll go see them as part of my trip East, but I am thinking of October. They've been down there only a couple of weeks, and are probably still settling in. But yeah, I want to go."

"Lean down here a moment....."

Marc smiled and did, and I placed a hand on the back of his head to hold him in place while I kissed him with just the right amount of passion, respect and farm-boy lovin'. I thought we'd be over and done in a couple of seconds, but I was (happily) wrong. It became an adjustment so we were both lying fully on the bed, legs zippered and his chest on mine. Ahhh.....your weight on mine, Boyfriend.....you take me to heaven with your mere existence, but you keep me grounded so I can't just float on up any higher, never to be seen again.

"Marc.....how is it possible that as in love with you I am when you're wearing nothing, I am even more turned on by you when you're fully clothed?"

"Hmmm.....I suspect because there's no challenge for you if I'm naked. You're turned on by a challenge, not an easy victory."

"Well, it WAS supposed to be a rhetorical question, but so much for that.....I think you're right, though. And you smell good, too."

"Must be all the strawberry juice I dripped down the front of me."

"Well, whatever it is, there's some juice that could spray all over the front of you. You're safe as long as we both stay clothed."

"It's a busy day ahead of you. How about I go now.....and later.....we can talk all about it when the busy day---and I--- are behind you?"

"Boyfriend....."

Another moment of passion and wet-spot-inducing hip thrust later, and my man released me from my brief but welcome gravity-secured bondage. The Sun was up, and so were we. Down, Paco' and Marc's Paco', whatever your name is. Down for now. We stood and smiled, kissed again, and walked downstairs. Mom was still in the pantry office talking, so we walked outside. We both noticed the chickens were acting strangely.....or weren't acting at all. They weren't out of the coop yet, but we tossed feed for them, and they had fresh water. We didn't see feathers earlier, so the birds hadn't been startled (as in, no fox got in the chicken run).

We walked over, and there was the reason for the chickens not out pecking around. Old Cock-A-Doodle was on his side, dead. Oh, damn. He was old. Ten years. He was well-cared for, and had his vet visits. How or why he died wasn't much of a mystery; he wasn't attacked, and none of our chickens had parasites. Well, not the dangerous kind. We all have parasites. And yeah, this is soooo inappropriate, but I think I'm funny, anyway: Tommy and K have a parasite now.....tee-hee!

So, anyway.....I needed to clear our old rooster away so the chickens would come out and get on with their day. Getting a new rooster would become a priority. A coop will lose cohesion and sense of community if there isn't a rooster after there had been one previously. I'd call LeVar or Sally and ask if they knew anyone with a cockerel or rooster in need of a flock.

"Damn.....Jozef, I don't know what to say, except this can't be unusual. Do you think he had a heart attack or something?"

"That's exactly what I think. Not at all uncommon. Also, he might have an impacted crop. That's where feed that has been swallowed, particularly a grass or something leafy, goes down but can't get to where it can be ground with grit and digested. Think of a furball on a cat that gets bigger and bigger and can't come back up, and food can't go down. Whatever happened, he wasn't attacked."

"Would one of the hens attack him?"

"Yes.....if she's brooding and feels the rooster is threatening the chicks. Or if there's a shortage of food and water. If the pecking order is disrupted for any reason, the rooster can be the scapegoat for anything that goes wrong. I would bet he just died, poor old guy. There are no threats in this run. Ten years is a long time, but some roosters have gone beyond fifteen years. That doesn't mean they were good years; chickens have joints, and arthritis is common among avians. Babe, I need to deal with this now. I think I'll be done with work around 5:00PM. What're your thoughts about dinner?

Incredible! You just ate breakfast! Do you trust me to make dinner this evening?"

"You've done it before, haven't you?"

"Oh, yeah. Come when you're ready. I'll make spaghetti. Salad, too. Oh----to be clear, Jozef----regardless of whatever I drink or not, that has no restraints on you. If you like red wine with dinner, I'll get some."

"Thanks, Marc; but I haven't really developed a taste for beer or wine. I'm entirely fine with iced tea or 7-Up, or heck; ice water. Thanks, though."

"The offer will always stand, Babe."

"I understand. Go now, ya handsome man. My handsome man. See you in really just a few hours."

One more kiss, and Marc got in his truck and drove away. A honk at the top of the drive, then a wave, and Marc was headed for the highway and then town. It was a nice, quiet morning. Overly quiet, since our evolved little dinosaur alarm clock cocked his last doodle-doo. Thank you for your service. We spent time together almost every day of my life, and I'm a better man for it. Watching you with all those women pretty much convinced me that not every man should have to do it, himself. Maybe you died because you were just finally worn out from the demands kept on you by those hens.

I went to the barn to find a beer box, which I then filled half-full with alfalfa, then some pine cones, a couple lichen-covered rocks and a puffball mushroom from out by the barn. Back in the chicken run, I picked the old stud rooster up and placed him gently in the box with the vegetables and minerals that would help compost Cock-A-Doodle's remains. We're as ethical and honorable as we can be, given the circumstances of our path in Life; growing things just so they can die and feed people. Giving a body back to the Earth doesn't hurt anyone.

It was now 8:00AM. The air smelled clean. There was no breeze that morning, or at least not yet. I'd dig a hole for our rooster, which would take no more than half an hour, and let the compost cycle continue. Then inventory our irrigation pipes and fittings. I didn't know what was on the Sanger farm, but I wasn't going to inventory that right away. Not all all, actually, until we paid them in full for their land. With a filled four-wheeler, I set off for at least two of the five different locations on the farm's 3,000 acres where we keep the pipes when we're not using them. Ear buds, charged iPod, sunscreen and a hat. I could get about a quarter of the acreage's pipes accounted for, then take Tom's horse back to him, and then finish the inventory job. A good day to work hard and feel tired and sore later, accomplishing a lot of moving and counting, and a little burying.

My phone announced a text from Mom.

"Leaving for town---back afternoon. Please transfer laundry to dryer."

Both Aleksy and I responded. A moment later, I got a text message from him.

"You know anything?"

"I know everything. For instance: what is the longest continuously-resided metropolis?"

"I mean about Mom."

"Damascus. No, not about Mom. I can guess, though."

"Me, too. She's dressed up. She's seeing someone professionally."

"Attorney....."

"Sigh.....I suspect so. It's practical to get things managed in case she can't in future."

"What about your stuff? Anything in your name?"

"The condo and my cars have always been aimed at you, but I'm sure you can understand that might change soon. And you?"

"Of course I understand that. As for me.....I can't do anything until I'm Eighteen, but I have everything in a file so when I do, it'll go faster. It basically assigns everything as regards my future share of this farm to the farm LLC."

"What about Marc?"

My thumbs were getting exhausted, as was the phone's battery. I called him up and wandered around the area, looking for any gopher holes I'd need to cover. Horses can't always see them, and stepping in one can mean a broken leg.

"Aleksy.....Marc told me last night he has property in other countries, and liquid assets, too. No details, but names like Switzerland, Malta and Canada came up in conversation. At my still-unripe age, I would have nothing to leave him, anyway. Well, except for the memories of several nights, mornings and afternoons in ecstatic Nirvana, the details of which would make Probate Court blush."

"Do you have to brag about your sex life all the time?!"

"I DON'T brag about it all the time, because I don't HAVE a sex life all the time, Big Brother. In both sex and bragging, a farm boy needs to stop and take a breath now and again."

"Sheesh.....and probably sleep."

"Oh, I think I can still have sex when I'm sleeping, but I'd like to hear the details when I'm awake again."

"Sooooo.....moving right along.....please.....you're counting pipes today?"

"Well, there are only two....."

"What?! STOP!"

"You're no fun. But yeah, at least three stacks today, if not all. Riding to Sangers at 10, probably back at 11. Lunch?"

"I'll see what Eva's running for sandwiches."

"Whatever they are, two for me, and an `Amber Waves' on ice."

Heck, it wasn't even 8:30AM, and there was a lot to do. This phone call was not one of them, but we'd have these conversations at some point. Before we hung up, I told Aleksy about the recent addition to the animal compost area behind the equipment barn. We'd never composted anything larger than a calf, though Dad said his grandfather and uncle composted a horse when it died before it could be sent off (quite literally) to a glue factory in Butte.

Little C-A-D would join many chicken carcasses that (quite figuratively) flew the coop over the past many decades. And you know by now that we compost our humans, too; but we don't use the resulting materiel. My dad is holy and inviolate, along with the others.

I could just imagine the conversation Dad and I would suddenly be having if I used `Bits O' Dad' as fertilizer in the kitchen garden, with him appearing on the windowsill in my bedroom at Midnight:

"You know I hate cauliflower."

"What.....Dad?!? What're you doing here? And.....you're kinda glowing, Dad!"

"It's a new moisturizer. Soil Of ILay'. Anyway. Why are you using Leftover Me' to feed a vegetable I hate and equate with Satan's Hemorrhoids?"

"Well, what's left of Grandma is taking care of the Brussels sprouts and beans, and Uncle Piotr is turning out some nice beets, carrots and parsnips this year. We can't just.....let you go to waste. I suppose that would piss you off as a farmer more than anything, wouldn't it?"

"Well, yeah, but I'd rather be used on all those Irises by the house. I'm pretty sure I could bring an interesting color to `em. Maybe they'd glow. Next year, though: No cauliflower! ICK! Don't even grow that crap! It looks like a broccoli ghost."

"Well, Dad; I'm sure as shit not gonna eat cauliflower NOW! I don't like it either, and ghost rhoids' doesn't make it any more palatable. Besides.....now that I know you can just appear and do.....'this', I wouldn't be surprised if you decided to show up just as I'm about to take a bite of Mom's veggie casserole and say, This is my body; eat of it. It has been given up, composted and used as fertilizer, just for your ungrateful, punk-assed self'."

"I'd feel obligated, Kiddo. I know you don't go to church as much as you should. By the way, your great-great grandfather says you masturbate too much, and you need to use vaseline or Bag Balm or something, since you're circumcised. You should hear the grief he gives me about cutting you boys....."

"WHAT!?? How does he know I jack off too much?!"

"Oh, we all watch you. Sometimes we lay bets about how much you'll shoot or how far. I generally win, since I used to catch you in the barn before I was parked below the frost line. Whether you do it too much isn't for me to say, but you still make me proud, Jeffrey. And six times last Saturday! Well done, Kiddo! Although, you could've got the irrigation pipe inspected and inventoried in the same period of time....."

"Holy shit.....my folks are watching me get off.....ewww! Yeah, six times. Not my record, but I'm trying to break it. And handling THIS `pipe' is just weight training for doing the irrigation stuff, really....."

"Your braggadocious sacrifice is noble, and I'll let the others know. Oh.....too late. They know, and they're not buying it. Great-Uncle Arkadiusz says we need you to stop wasting it and put it to use for its procreating purpose."

"Ummm.....right now, that's about as likely as another Polish pope, Dad."

"Well, think about it, at least. Don't make your brother do all the work. And damn, is he working hard at it, too....."

"DAD!!!"

"Whaaat?! You can't hear him? It's enough to wake the Dead. In fact, he wakes all of us. We get more sleep when the tractor is fired up. All I'm saying is, figure it out, Youngest."

"We've already talked about it. I don't exactly have a list of immediately-available possibilities. Raising kids won't be the issue; issuing them will be."

"I can't imagine you'll have too much trouble. Your youthful reputation is also a hot topic among your ancestors. And before you get all embarrassed, I'll just say again: PROUD. I'm not even gonna nag you about not getting your homework done, because clearly you could do both, and still graduate early. I'm not worried, though. I know you're as anxious as we are to get the farm living another 130 years. So, let's wrap this up; I need to go help Barni find a mate. We want more barn owls for the next century, too. So, Kiddo: no more Dad on the cauliflower. Gross. Go to Mass. Stop jacking Paco so much, unless you're aiming him at eager eggs. I guess that's about it. For THIS time. You got anything for me?"

"Okay, I'll work on all that. Yeah, I got something for you. This Kiddo' thing. Stop with the Kiddo' thing!"

"Heh.....okay, try this on for size: `Polska Beksa-Lala'."

"What.....I'm afraid to ask....."

"`Polish Cry-Baby'!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake....."

"NOT IN FRONT OF YOUR GRANDMOTHER!"

"SHE'S HERE, TOO??"

"No, but she can be, if she even thinks a bad word is about to be said. Trust me, I know. She caught me plenty of times before there was even anything to catch. My ear still hurts from being yanked."

"Okay, okay! I won't say that.....'in front of her' anymore! Geez!"

"Bubuszka says don't say it, but by all means, do it----a lot. She'd like to have something else to bet on besides how far and how often you.....well, you know."

"You people think more about my sex life than I do."

"I find that hard to believe.....we think it's all you think about."

"Not ALL.....well, not anymore. And as for this `Beksa-Lala' thing. That's no improvement, you know."

"I'll make you a deal. You improve the future of Team W, and I'll think of something else to endear you with. Jozef, we know you're concerned with the future of the farm and family. And we all like Marc. A lot. You two would be perfect, if only one of you also had ovaries. Figure it out, Youngest. We love you. I love you."

The morning wind whistled around me to break the time in my head with my dad. Smiles and tears were the crop in that acre that August morning. I sowed them, I reaped them, I held them tight in my heart as Dad's kiss good-bye in the form of a breeze carried away my cares and sorrow for a moment.

With the work well underway for the morning, I continued with the preemptive practice of standing well clear of stacked pipes and throwing a long rope in the area, around and on the pipes themselves. Rattlesnakes aren't uncommon in Fergus County, and they'll typically find a shady area before High Noon when it's hotter during the day. I'm not afraid of them---not nearly as afraid as they are of me---but I've been struck before. I was Fifteen years old, and a month after my Junior year in school started, doing the very chore then that I was doing now.

We always wear leather gloves when working, but when working in taller grasses or near crags, we have longer gloves; cowboy gauntlets, actually. I was walking along a stand of pipes when I heard the rattle behind me. Seemed like it was just under me, and it was, kinda. Before it gave me a chance to obey its warning and keep walking, the snake struck the heel of my boot. I looked down to see it, obvious to my view where before it wasn't. Okay, ya little fucker; that one's on me.

I wasn't hurt, but I was obligated to tell Dad about it. What surprised me was the force of the strike. A snake is little; doesn't even come near a pound in weight. But it's all muscle, from fang to rattles. If a man could hit with that same force, a boxing opponent in a ring would be knocked well outside of it and into the crowd, just like in an old movie; but he'd be very unlikely to survive the punch. Rattlers aren't as lethal as they used to be. Not in terms of their venom; that's only stayed the same in its potency.

Few people and even fewer livestock die anymore. In all 130 years, we lost two calves to snake bites, and both were due to strikes on their tender and small noses. Their noses just swelled shut, and the venom continued its course and affected the trachea, too. Within half an hour, they suffocated. They were the calves we composted.

For bigger animals like adult cattle and horses, a snake strike will most likely be on a lower leg, and although there'll be pain and necrosis at the injury site, one strike isn't likely to be lethal. There's just not enough venom to do more than make the animal ill for awhile. Emergency vet attention is still needed, though. Hide necrosis is a big deal, since infections and flies laying eggs occur at the site. Every saddle in our tack room is outfitted with snake bite kits, and they're in the house and all the outbuildings, too.

So, that snake---shortly thereafter dispatched to its own `so near it's right here' death experience by the very heel it struck---didn't hurt me, but I learned well what I'd been taught in theory. Make noise so they'll do the same in response, and only then, proceed with the chore. For me, that's swinging a rope before I get near pipes. I also never get down to look from one end of the pipe to the next. There's either nothing to see, or nothing I want to see there. As of this Summer, there hadn't been a human death due to a rattlesnake strike in eight years. We just get smarter as the years go by; the rattlesnakes aren't any dumber.

I didn't hear any rattles. Either there were no wee beasties waiting for a farm boy lunch, or my rope skills weren't entirely useless. Still, I counted the pipes from a short distance, and knew I'd be back to collect and move them around. Same process then. It's always the same on dry land farming. Nothing really changes; what we grow requires water, whether it's deep in the soil or walking on it.

My morning progressed decently. I replayed my imagined conversation' with Dad and smiled. Maybe we only have conversations that I choose to believe are possible, and engage with actively. They have meaning for me. I'm given a chance to reflect on what I've come to know in my seventeen years and how that'll help me with what I need to do for another seventeen. Or seventy. AND seventy. My ten minutes with Dad' were like an hour in prayer or church, give or take the Cauliflower Communion. I don't negate the deep adherence folks have with their own faiths, but mine is not the same. We crack our soft-boiled eggs at opposite ends, them and me; but we get to the same center.

My farm is alive with its past forming its present, and me forming the Earth into its future. If there is a god, I've made him in my image. He's a farm boy who lives long hours, loves his people, nurtures the land and cares for animals. Maybe he's supposed to do more and be more, and have an ever-increasing list of legal constraints. That's for others to decide---for themselves. Out there that morning, I communed with my dead relatives for a few minutes, specifically the prince of my own peace, and felt both calm and energized at the same moment. A `conversation' with my father often went a long way in sustaining me in my life---and faith.

They were legends, my family; and their stories passed down from generation to generation, like any faith. Books weren't from stories passed down for centuries and then scribed on carefully-crafted and rare parchment, but photo albums and DVDs converted from VHS tapes. They lived for us, and we still learned from them. Aleksy and Eva, Marc and I, Tommy and K, and maybe even Trace and Toby would have something to add to our lands' histories and future. As Dad said: figure it out, aim well, and make him and the others proud. I think we can do that. I know I have to.

It was time to ride back toward the house and trade four wheels for eight hooves. The Sun in the sky kept me on track, although my watch was there to back Ol' Sol up if clouds came by to obfuscate (Mr Stevens' Freshman English) the farmer's time clock. Aleksy was anticipating my arrival and already had Tommy's horse brushed, saddled, fed and ready for the three miles home across pastures and prairie.

"How'd it go? Did a snake try to French kiss you this time?"

"Not this time. I think word got around that I can't be had so easily."

"Well, not by a snake, anyway.....ANYWAY, I think Jon must've seen you from the road or something. He called to give me their irrigation inventory. Got everything else in an email, too. I guess he liked the proposal last night. He's not waiting for the sale to help us make our plans."

"I think he and the rest of us liked both proposals last night. If this goes forward, it'll be in a kind of reverse; it won't be Tommy leaving the nest after marrying, but his parents moving on. I hope this works. Can't see how it won't."

"Same. What're you thinking about their thousand, Little Brother?"

"Hell, I don't know. Lots of options. We have to rotate away from the wheat they grew, though. What do you think about just going with hay? After wheat, we could do Timothy grass."

"Yeah, we could.....but this'll be our first year taking on another thousand. I'm thinking of harvest next year. If we stick with a grain, we could schedule The Team accordingly and just get it all done the same week or so as our own, Jozef."

"So, a few weeks ago, I read that the Ag Station was experimenting with grain sorghum. Growers in Montana have the right soil and season, but the stuff we can get for seed is still best for Wyoming and Colorado. You would know better than I, but isn't warm-season grain sorghum a good crop to follow wheat? I read that, anyway."

"Little Brother, you just spermed an idea way up in my head....."

"Well, besides the Ick Factor of that statement, do you care to elaborate?"

"Sure do. Ag Station. I already want to round up the guys there and have `em out for a barbecue or something."

"Good Grief! I mean, yeah, doing it with my brother is about as close as I'd get to the perfect partner---myself---but I'll stay on my current course, thanks. Good idea, though; getting them in on the idea. THEY can sperm your brain or whatever you're fixating on these days."

"Have you seen any of `em lately? Heck, they'd turn a straight guy's head or ass for spermin'. Everyone wants to be an underwear model these days; even the grass-fed boys in Montana."

"No, I haven't quite noticed.....but truckers are a different story. At least the one this morning at Eva's was. Flirty fucker, too. Too bad, so sad; he looked like he didn't have even one degree. I've become accustomed to hot guys with at least a PhD after their names. Kidding. Just worked out that way. So, despite my proficiency with connect-the-dots books when I was not-much-younger, I'm not seeing how you're going from the new thousand with the Ag Station students to a crop in development."

"You're right; they're working on a new strain of grain sorghum. They're also likely growing only a hundred or so acres. If they've grown at least three years of the crop in rotation and if we can see the results, we could propose to both the state ag department and the USDA that we get either a tax credit or a grant to grow a larger crop, and likely get the seed, too. Sounds greedy, but if we can try that, it'll be good for the post-wheat soil, and we can be a large-scale experimental crop. It harvests like any other grain."

"Oh, wow.....did you hear that?"

"No.....what did YOU hear?"

"The dead relatives swooning and falling over in a faint. Everything they've wanted----you and me farming this place successfully and with continued innovation. We'd better do this before they wake back up. The W Boys have a plan!"

"I think I'll see what kind of email I can put together to Mario Locati over there. I'll just pitch the barbecue thing, and if it's a go, then I'll slide in with the grain sorghum idea. I need to do some research first."

"This sounds good. I can tell you now, it'll make Mom happy we're looking at something in our off-time other than dementia."

"Indeed.....she told us yesterday to be thinking about the new thousand. I hope grain sorghum will work. You'll get the credit for the idea."

"Nope. Collaborative effort. Just like getting this horse back to Tommy. Thanks. We'll get going. Oh.....one thing. We should maybe hold back from calling the Sanger Place `the new thousand'. At least around them. Even if Jon is already volunteering equipment inventory."

"Agreed. It's good one of us is sensitive. You gay guys are so sensitive!"

"You'd be sensitive, too, if you were more familiar with friction like we are.....and how often.....sometimes morning, Noon AND night."

"GO! DO NOT COME BACK! DO NOT COLLECT $200.00!!!"

"You have good ideas, Big Brother, but no sense of humor."

"How do I know if that's supposed to be funny?! You might be serious!"

"How do you know the boys at the Ag Station are hot? And don't tell any lie like, `Kim and Eva told me'! And it is funny, but it's also serious. Here, let me show you this abrasion right here behind my scro....."

"NO!"

We both laughed and I mounted Bolt for a leisurely trot North and East to the Sanger Addition. Not the `new thousand'. I hoped the Tuss family do not have any issue with us buying the land. It was theirs before they sold it to the Sangers. They wanted to focus just on pork production, and I know the county wouldn't let them expand that to encompass more acreage than they're already using for that. Pig farming is good for one thing only: making money while making bacon. The smell and the effect on the land is not anything to write home about, but they paid their taxes, helped drive the economy and supported the schools in Moore where generations of Tuss got their education.

I was a little late; eight minutes. I tried sending a text to my boy, but no network made me welcome. Once I got there, Kelly and Tom were by their barn, which housed the equipment, horses and some hay.

"Well, looky here, Ma; he's early for 10:00PM, not late for 10:00AM. Mighty neighborly, wouldn't you say?"

"You boys.....I can't keep up!"

Kelly laughed and gave me a hug when I dismounted.

"Hi, Kelly. Sorry about Tom, even though you're the one who dropped him on his head as a baby. From the top of the water tower in town."

"HAHAHAHA!!! You stayin' for lunch?"

"No, but thank you. I need to get back soon. My brother is going to the Ag Station. Too bad it's not the bus station. There's a nice bus that goes one-way to Maine."

That got Tom's attention.

"Actually, your face and every other funny thing aside, I can take three hands-on elective MSU classes at the Ag Station. Taking back roads, it's only twenty minutes from here."

"Get busy, Tommy; register. If we're gonna get degrees, we're all three gonna get `em together."

Kelly smiled and rubbed my boy's back.

"He's registered. Trace and Toby held him down in front of his computer until Tommy's name is officially an incoming student at Montana State. OSU is losin' out! That's your dad's school."

"Where'd you go, Kelly?"

"University of Oklahoma. Nursing. Four years and all I learned was how to put Band-Aids on little boys. Or maybe that's all I've done since!"

"Ma, I hope you remembered how; you'll have plenty of opportunity to do it more."

"I already have three boxes on order!"

We laughed and I turned the reins over to Tom. We walked our horses to the watering trough and Kelly waved to go inside. She said she'd be back with some cookies to take home with me. I reached in the saddle bag to get Tom's strawberry waffles, which he was all wide-eyed and smiling about. If we weren't feeding Tom, Kelly was feeding me over four years. Cuisine was unique mid-South, but good. Not Tex-Mex, definitely not Southern'. And platters full of fry bread! If Eva had a deep-fryer at Common Grounds', the lines at the window would be even longer. Fry Bread in Fergus County, Beignets in New Orleans. Good ideas get around, you know.

What made Kelly's kitchen magical was her absolute refusal to measure anything. Nothing was the same twice, and I thought that might be why Tommy's own pork tenderloin and Haluski was unique each time he made it. Create, innovate, and according to my dead relatives, masturbate----and too much. Ha. Someone is gonna tell a teenage farm boy there's such a thing as too much? Not even with a studly, beautiful, wonderful boyfriend in the works.

"Jeffrey, what did you want to talk about? You said carve out some time. Tick-Tock, Foo."

"Yeah.....about that....."

"Wait.....don't tell me you're pregnant, too."

"What.....that's silly! You and my brother! And why does everyone think I'M the Bottom?!"

"Have you seen your bottom?"

"Yes!"

"Well, then! There you go! It's perfect for pounding, pummeling and pregnant-ing. So, then what's the issue?"

"There isn't one. Yet. I want to help prevent any. Look, I speak from no experience, but you and I both know farming isn't easy. You and I were both decent students, so school wasn't hard for us. Now, though; we're farming full time and studying full time, and you and K are also going to be parents full time. Where I'm going with this is: your folks are looking at an opportunity two hundred miles away.

Some of your support ain't going to be right here while you're doing all three, but you have to do all three. You were born to them. But you have lots of support in Mom, Aleksy, Eva, Marc and me. Get us on the phone before you or K feel even a headache coming on. One of us'll go there, or park the papoose on your horse and aim him in our direction. We're all on the same team here; we want this to work, like we said last night. Keep your focus and we'll all help each other keep our sanity. That's really all I wanted to say. I was thinking it last night, but saying anything would've made you and K uncomfortable, like we're ganging up on you; good intentions be damned."

"Y'all are just the truly best people. Thanks. And you have the best soul. You're always so kind and good to me. From the first day I met you, you just helped me keep my head high. You're the best man for my wedding, and I want you to be the godfather to our child. K and I already talked about that, too."

"Oh, HECK, yeah! A few months away, but these things can't wait for the last minute! I need a suit, a big, black car, a senator in my pocket....."

"Well, don't hesitate to get all carried away there, Uncle Godfather. No doubt there's a Polish version of the Mafia."

"Yeah.....except we trade illicitly in sauerkraut, forest mushrooms and root vegetables. Instead of unions, we control onions. It's a huge underground that has the House Un-American Committee very concerned. We'll be called before Congress and the FBI any day now. Watch for me on TV!"

"Heh.....I suppose you'll just shrug and insist that y'all are just simple, humble farmers; not rich by any means."

"Um, no, not us; I'll just smile and nod as they barrage their questions to Don Jozef W."

Tom laughed and we moved beyond that. I didn't fully know what the bottom line was for Team W, and I was in no hurry to find out. All I cared about was honoring our proposal to the Sangers, buying seed, selling cattle, paying for the next harvest and figuring it out. All of it.

"Jeffrey, am I not a good brother to Trace? Last night I got knocked right on my ass when Pa basically outted Trace and welcomed Toby into the family. Maybe a little early, but still. How'd I not know my brother is gay? Did you know?"

"`Family Dynamics', Tommy. They're all different. Your folks are certainly making room for Toby, which made me happy. I think he's a good man, and they do, too. Apparently, anyway. As for how your folks knew about Trace.....I don't know. Maybe he talked with them, although I would find it weird if he didn't also talk with you. You first is how I'd have gone. Aaaaand.....as for me knowing.....yes, but I didn't know; I had a strong suspicion. The same way you had a suspicion about me. He and I never talked, and Toby's the same. I guess Trace flew under your Gaydar. Also, I think you're a good brother to Trace. So this one thing wasn't communicated; that's not normal for you. You all are in each other's loops here. But I know he'd feel great if you approached him to talk."

"Well, now I think you're right; it's in the water in Cottonwood Creek. That has to be it. I suppose the four of you are gonna want a Pride parade now."

"Yes, and since you're now the president of PFLAG, Fergus County Chapter, you can organize it."

"And I'll need to round up some drag queens, too? DJs with towers of speakers and at least a dozen disco mirror balls?"

"Tommy, just how do you know so much about Pride Week and parades? You really have almost all of it lined out. Just need to decide if you're putting the Bears at the head of the parade and the Twinks at the tail, and where in all of it the Dykes On Bikes will do their thing. At least you have ten months. Pride Week is in June next year."

"I'll have a one-month-old kid in ten months!"

"But you won't have school. You'll be done in May. See? It'll all work out!"

"I'm going inside, back to bed, wake up and find that was a dream but the waffles aren't, and get on with my day."

"You have to get on with your gay. Your gay best friend and his man, your gay brother and his man, and probably half of the other people living along Cottonwood Creek. It MUST be in the water!"

We laughed and talked a little longer, Kelly came out with a brown paper sack of warm cookies. I pulled one out and got it partly inside my mouth, mounted Bolt for the ride home, and thinking about Tom saying we're rich. I truly had no idea how much of the other green stuff' we had. We were selling a farm, holding the mortgage for twenty years, and buying another farm overnight. Mom and Auntie Pat were good businesswomen. They knew what they were doing. I just felt uncomfortable with any rich' reference made about us. We might have more money than some, but lots of folks had a lot more than we did. Maybe that includes Marc. Other property? Other accounts? At least two estates not yet settled? My plain-and-simple Harvard professor and part-time farmer?

I decided to take a longer route and ride the fence so I could find any holes in it before the Black Angus did. I still got back in time, setting my boots back down just as Aleksy drove in from the county road with lunch.

We both washed up in the barn after he parked, and we took advantage of the gentle breeze to have lunch outside. Well.....that was unexpected: no sandwiches and no Amber Waves on ice. Instead, a very rare bucket of chicken and two huge root beers. Oh.....and ice-cold coleslaw, a gift to the world from Holland, has no equal to what A&W offers here. I can't have fried chicken without it. Or won't.

"Aleksy. As happy as I am to see this, was Eva sold out?"

"No. Her oven gave out last night. No bread. No muffins. No Danishes. Heck, she was doing all that with a ten-year-old residential KitchenAid stove and oven. After lunch, I'm going to get her another, but that's a stop-gap measure."

"Damn. An unwelcome and untimely expense. If you need help picking it up and installing it, I'll go with you. Once Mom gets back. We should maybe just measure a lot of stuff in there and figure out how to build the new foot traffic countertop."

"So.....that's on hold."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. This morning, Eva found two modular buildings in Great Falls. Three times the size as `Common Grounds'. Both are remote bank drive-throughs. They're fully self-contained, already wired for 240V. She could get a bigger kitchen in each, and maybe indoor seating for fifteen or so people. Lots of windows. I told her I'd help her figure out logistics, getting them over here, on foundations and utilities connected. She actually banks with the sellers already."

Aleksy had his phone out and showed me the photos. I knew the exact buildings he was talking about, and with a fresh paint job to disassociate them with the bank, I knew they'd attract people here.

"They look the same, really. Which one is Eva thinking?"

"Both."

"What?!"

"One at each end of town. The other would go where the radio station used to be. Everything is already there, as far as utilities, parking and zoning."

"Damn. This is such good news. I love it already."

"Are you ready to love it even more?"

"Sure!"

"You know how she was talking about pizza? She's also looking at pizza ovens for the unit at the other end of town. She also wants to run ice cream there."

"Fuck me runnin'!"

"NO, and I thought you didn't run. Anyway, apparently Marc put the ice cream worm in her ear. I think it's perfect. People come through there for dinner and go out with dessert, too."

"This is incredible.....I suspect, though, so will be the challenge of staffing."

"Oh, yeah. You know she has ten applications already completed and on file for `Common Grounds'? People already want to work there. Add another at the other end of town and other businesses will struggle to keep their staff from leaving. Everyone loves Team Eva."

"Aleksy, I'm really happy with this news. I'm so glad she has her successful business."

"Want even better news, or something to be even happier about? Lyle Connor wanted to see her yesterday with an idea of his own. A very generous idea. They talked this morning."

"Well? I don't do well with suspense!"

"He knows what she wants to do at both ends of town. He's offering to pour the concrete himself for the foundations and outdoor eating areas, and charge only for the materials. He'll also have the East end location cleared of the asphalt and topsoil."

"That's beyond generous, and the kindest of gestures. I guess you and I aren't so anti-Connor anymore?"

"Not as far as Lyle and his wife are concerned, no. And I'm a big fan of Junior---behind bars."

"I got the impression that's how Lyle and Mrs Connor feel, too. So, is there a timeframe on the new buildings?"

"Not really.....Eva is contacting the bank to ask about the Great Falls properties to see if there's a deadline in moving them."

"So much happening so fast around here....."

"Truly. Wanna know what we laughed about for the name of the pizza place?"

"Oh, come on.....! Remember what I said about suspense? Nothing has changed since then!"

"You'll like this....."

"How will I ever know?!"

"Okay.....'Crop Circles'!"

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HAHAHAHA!!! That's brilliant!"

Back in the 70s and early-80s, Fergus County made national news for UFO sightings and crop circles. Like our ancestors, the legends were ever-present, even though the very Earth-centric human culprits were discovered. Now aliens were blamed with humor for everything, including freshly-spun cookies in snow-covered parking lots. Crop Circles Pizza' was just right. Add to that Marc's name for the ice cream, Moooooons Over Montana', and Eva would have a corner on the market for dinner and desert at the east end of town, all the way to Grass Range. Eva and Team were the right people at the right time, and now with two places in town to bring smiles and full bellies to anyone coming or going.

Aleksy and I talked more, swooning over the plans. I hoped it would all work out how she wanted. Eva was strong and resilient, but also the friendliest entrepreneur in the county. All she had ever lacked was peace, at least until last month. Despite Junior's attack at the fair, Eva and Aleksy were in orbit around each other. It took a few (ten) more years than originally planned, but there they were, finally. Good businesspeople who would produce and raise good kids, but really----pizza, ice cream, muffins and coffee, too? A teenager's dream diet! Oh---and spaghetti. Especially my man's tonight. And fried chicken with coleslaw for lunch. That, too. Okay, so, what isn't on the dream diet? Not much: liver (or any organs), pickled beets, black licorice, creamed corn and oysters.

I carried the plates and forks into the house and scrapped the remaining chicken and slaw packaging. I could've eaten more, but I wanted room for Marc's dinner. Aleksy let Lola Cola out, and carefully removed each of the pups from the run so they could feel the cool grass of the lawn on their little bellies. O.C. jumped down from his watchtower to sit by them. Almost two weeks later, and he's still as protective as he was when they were being born, even with Dad and Other Uncle sitting right there with them. My brother and I would have a lot of explaining to do to Old Cat when it came time for them to be adopted. Except my Little Guy. O.C., you two will become good friends. That's another thing to be concerned about, and sooner than later, I supposed; the pups' dad coming to live on the farm, too. We had a lot to do in August.

I ran across to the barn and got some puppy formula from the fridge and two hand nursers. Oh, and of course, a duck heart for the babysitter. Half an hour later, the pups were fed and returned to their run. Lola Cola had remained in the yard the entire time, running around and stretching her legs, woofing at everything. We still didn't have the website up, and that needed to happen. I at least got the domain name registered and found a hosting service. Now it was just pictures, biographies of the parents, prices and contact information.

"Big Brother, let's deadline the website. Two days from now. They're adoptable at eight weeks. We have fewer than six to go. Also, when is their dad coming?"

"I'm getting him when Mom and I cruise through Bozeman on our way back from the seminar in Billings. I need his registration files, too. I have Lola Cola's. Okay, two days. Thanks for keeping that at the forefront of your already-busy mind, Little Brother. Hey, if Mom is in town for however more she'll be there, leave the irrigation pipes until someone else is here to respond if there's an emergency. Yes, snake bites and whatever else. I'll commit to helping you tomorrow."

"Hmmm.....that's reasonable. Thanks. I can keep busy here. I need to move the cattle out into the big field. That'll give me some time with Sebastian. He's really going through the corn; I think I'm feeding him at least sixty pounds a day. Sorry I can't help you with Eva's new oven, unless Mom gets back within the hour. Are you still going to Moccasin to the Ag Station?"

"No, not now. Oh.....how about you and I go there tomorrow morning, early? Like 8:00AM. Let's find out about their new grain sorghum strain together."

"All right. That'll work. I'll be back out early in the morning."

"Jozef.....you seem kinda distant. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.....I think. Getting a little overwhelmed, I guess. I need to be online and in class in a month. We have to plant Winter wheat. We need to get the Sanger transaction started and finished. I have to sell Sebastian. Need to understand what Marc's research and new book will mean for him as well as us. Gotta understand Mom's condition. I don't know how I'm going to do all that."

"You're doing none of it alone. Yeah, school, maybe; but the rest? I'll be right with you to share the burden. I didn't come back here to just watch you run this place, you know. I still remember where the tractor is kept and how to plant seeds."

"I know. Sounds arrogant of me, thinking all of this is stuff I have to solve personally."

"Mom isn't going to fail today. Or tomorrow. Auntie Pat will be involved in Mom's health, too. The Sangers' loan is due soon, but from what you and I saw in the books we were shown, there's nothing to worry about there. Sebastian is going to be rough on you. If there is anything at all good about it, it's that it'll be over before school starts. Isn't it kinda cool, though? Sebastian watches over the cows and calves, O.C. watches over Lola Cola and the pups, and somehow you're watching over the whole place. You're not arrogant; you're the agro version of an air traffic controller, Jeffrey. You see everything, you know where it has to be and when, and what happens next. You're seriously a farmer. I could not be more relieved that you're here and we're doing this together. I don't think I could handle this place with only Mom and myself. I know I couldn't. And I truly think Marc is the perfect person for you, arriving at the perfect time and finding his own perfect person in you."

I was allowing myself to get stressed out, and in only a few seconds, Aleksy pulled me back out of my head, with some moisture in my eyes along the way. His reassurance was welcome. This was another insecurity of mine. I had worried in Billings that I might not be enough for Marc. Now I was worrying the same thing about the farm and Team W. Before this Summer, I worried about nothing. I had school, Mom and Dad, Aleksy if only remotely and on occasion, Tom and K on a daily basis, and my 4H project still a project. It wasn't....easy, but it was a challenge that didn't worry me. Ironically, Aleksy was offering me the same reassurance that I passed onto Tom only an hour earlier. I needed a dose of my own medicine, obviously. I appreciated Aleksy asking if I was okay, and really appreciated him saying he thinks Marc has a place here. And in my heart.

New lives and relationships came to the farm, bringing their own energies and concerns with them. Lola Cola brought and birthed an entire colony of Berneezers. Marc visited, got lost and then moved here, stole my heart and offered me his to replace mine. Aleksy came back to the farm, leaving a university teaching career to help his little brother keep Farm W a successful business. Eva became a constant and oh-so-welcome presence in our lives. My best friends were building a family already. Yeah, I had a lot going on that Summer, but other than Dad dying, the rest of it and them was exactly what I needed. And I am exactly what they all needed.

Now, THAT was arrogant.