by Lynne Norris
“At least once a day she leads them on a small animal chase.”
Emma followed Grace inside. “I didn’t know you had horses.” The sweet smell of hay, leather and horses filled her nostrils.
“They’re a new addition. Michael invested in them after Pop’s accident. He got it into his head that he would actually ride them.” She gave Emma a rueful glance. “Pop’s yet to get on them. Have you ridden before?”
“No,” Emma said in awe of the magnificent creature that stood in front of her. A chestnut mare with a splash of white across her chest eyed her coolly from the other side of the stall.
“That’s Bella.”
“She’s beautiful.”
“My mother named her. This is Honey.”
Emma raised an eyebrow and Grace shook her head. “Michael’s boy’s insisted on that name. Bella’s the one the twins ride.”
“Wait. Michael has twins?”
“Yeah. Tyler and Jonah. You’ll want to wear these.” Grace handed Emma a pair of black over-the-shoe rubber boots.
Emma slid her foot in down to the heel of the boot then stomped her foot in the rest of the way. Once they were both on she experimented clomping around the barn. “I feel like big foot.”
“You’ll be happy you’re wearing them once we get out to the fields.” Grace settled the bridle over Bella’s head. She situated the pad and saddle on the horse’s back. She did the same for Honey while Emma rubbed Bella’s cheek affectionately.
“I don’t know how to ride a horse,” Emma reminded Grace.
“Don’t worry I’ll teach you.” Grace walked over to a metal cabinet and unlocked the door with a key she dug out of her pocket. To Emma’s surprise she pulled out a rifle.
“You’re bringing a gun with us?” Emma asked feeling an unease twist in her gut.
Grace eyed her calmly as she loaded two shells into the chamber and slid four extras into a sleeve attached to the stock of the firearm. “I always do,” she said without hesitation. “I take it you’ve never shot a gun before.”
“I’ve never even seen one up close,” Emma stammered almost taking a step back.
“Here’s a quick lesson.” Grace held the rifle out so Emma could see what she was talking about. “This is the safety. As long as it’s on you can’t fire the rifle. When you slide the button back the safety is off and it’s ready to fire. You don’t put your finger into the trigger unless you intend to shoot whatever it is you’re aiming at.”
“Have you ever fired it?” Emma asked.
“Just for target practice. My father taught me how to handle a firearm when I turned ten years old. My mother knows how to handle one too.”
“Really? Your mother knows how to shoot a gun?”
“Sure. She was home alone with three young children at night when my father was out working. Back then you could call the police, but it might take them thirty minutes to get to you if they were busy on another call.”
“Maybe this is a stupid question, but why do you need to bring a rifle with us?” Emma asked.
“There’s four hundred and fifty acres of land, a good part of it is woods.”
Emma tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. “I’ve been in the woods before without one.”
“We have black bear, coyote and bobcats that roam through here. Most likely they’ll be more scared of us if we run across them, but if something does happen no one’s coming to help me.” Unruffled, Grace walked over to Honey and slid the firearm into a holster that hung down from the horse’s saddle. “Once in awhile we get someone who tries to hunt illegally on our land. Most times they just need some gentle redirecting.”
“And the others?”
Grace cinched the strap tight around the butt of the stock. “I never had to do anything else other than ask if they knew they were on private property. That question and this,” she said indicating the rifle, “Are enough for most reasonable people to leave. Are you still comfortable going?”
“I don’t scare off that easily.” Emma half wondered if Grace was trying to do just that. Emma looked up at Bella who seemed to be regarding her with an amused expression. “On the other hand, it’s a long way down to fall.”
“You’re not going to fall.” Grace assured her and led the two horses from the barn. Holding onto Bella she said, “Step into the stirrup and grab hold of the saddle. Push up with your other leg and use your momentum to swing your right leg over the saddle. Go ahead. I’ve got her,” she said when Emma situated her foot in the stirrup.
Emma felt her heart beat a little faster and her mouth go dry as she did what Grace told her. She was grateful she managed to get into the saddle without completely humiliating herself. Once situated Emma glanced to either side. “It’s a lot higher than I thought it would be.”
Grace adjusted the length of the stirrups for her and Emma stilled, acutely aware of the brief contact from Grace’s hands.
“All set,” Grace flashed her a smile. “Hold the saddle horn in your right hand and the reins in your left.” Grace adjusted the reins in Emma’s hands so there was slack in them. “You don’t want to hold them tight all the time. Nudge her in the ribs to walk. Tug left to get her to turn left. Right to go right. Pull back if you want her to stop.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
Grace stepped into the stirrup and swung her leg over Honey’s back. “You ready?”
Emma’s heart ticked faster. “Grace, I don’t know how to ride a horse.”
“So you said. This’ll be your first lesson then. I’ll be right here.” Grace nudged Honey in the flank and started forward at a slow walk.
Emma tapped Bella in her flank. Bella’s ears twitched as if to say, “Are you talking to me?” She tried again, but Bella only shifted underneath her. Great, just great, Emma thought. She gave her a third tap with her heels and Bella snorted and shook her head. Emma leaned forward and spoke into the horse’s ear, “You’re doing this to make me look bad. Aren’t you?” The horse snorted and stepped sideways.
Up ahead, Grace turned in her saddle. “What’s wrong?”
“She won’t move.”
“She’s a big girl. Do it again, harder so she knows what you want her to do.”
Grace turned Honey around. “She’s stubborn enough to be half mule.”
“And you gave her to me to ride?” Emma asked.
“Stubborn, but she’s our gentle giant.”
Emma squeezed her heels into Bella’s side. Bella took a couple of steps forward stopped and shook her head.
Grace leaned forward in her saddle. “Hey! Stop messing around.”
Bella flicked her ears and stomped a hoof. Grace simply stared at the mare until she grudgingly started to walk.
The sway of the horse’s back beneath Emma was disconcerting and she clutched the horn tightly in her right hand while holding onto the reins. Bella slowed as she drew even with Honey. The chestnut mare snorted and shook her head.
“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Emma declared holding on for dear life.
“You’re nervous and she senses it. Sit up straight and let your body move with the horse,” Grace encouraged as the horses walked up the path. “Relax. That’s better.”
“What’s that on the left in the distance?” Emma asked trying to distract herself from how high up she was sitting.
“That’s one of the egg mobiles.” The structure Grace pointed to boasted a single axle. It was constructed with rough-cut lumber, sheet metal for sides and roof and chicken wire on the ends. “When we get past these bushes you’ll see the chickens.”
“How many do you have?”
“We have two hundred layers. Most of them are Barred Rocks and Australorps.” Grace pulled Honey to a stop, kicked out of the stirrups and swung herself to the ground. “Come on.” She grabbed Bella’s reins and helped Emma climb off the horse. “You’re going to help me move the egg mobile.”
“Oh, I am?”
Grace turned innocent eyes to Emma
and said, “You wanted to see what I do. No better way than hands on training.”
“Just so we’re clear,” Emma said with her hands firmly planted on her hips, “I am not cleaning out any animal stalls.”
“I’ll go easy on you today,” Grace walked backwards a couple of paces with an amused glint in her eyes.
“Not today or any day,” Emma said under her breath and followed Grace through a metal gate that squealed as it swung shut. She felt awkward in the oversized boots and stumbled twice marching through the thick grasses trying to keep up with Grace’s longer stride.
As they approached the egg-mobile Emma realized the ramshackle trailer was surrounded by a mass of roving chickens. Emma had the sudden urge to grab onto Grace’s arm for protection against the winged beasts. She decided to hang onto some shred of her dignity instead since the birds seemed to be completely ignoring Grace as she walked among them.
The birds looked alike until Emma got closer to them. Some had a glossy black plumage with a greenish-purple sheen with bright red combs. She realized others had an odd greyish barred pattern on their feathers. To her dismay they darted around her legs. A particular few were too busy pecking at the ground to move and Emma had to step around them. Once she got over her nervousness, Emma heard a variety of sounds coming from the chickens. There were peeps, soft warbling and an occasional startled squawk.
“They’re talking,” Emma exclaimed.
“They’re content and right now they don’t sense any danger.” Grace scooped up one of the birds in her arms and held it out for Emma to look at.
“What happens if they do?”
“You’ll hear a high pitched cackle. It’s sounds like a distress call.”
“I don’t think I like the way that chicken is looking at me.” Emma stepped back.
“She’s just trying to get a good look at you.” Grace set the bird down. “Don’t worry she won’t hurt you. It’s the roosters you have to watch out for.”
“Why?”
“Nature intended the rooster to protect the flock at all costs. They’ll fight to the death to do so.”
Emma stared down at the mass of birds milling about around her feet and fought for composure. “And you choose now to tell me while we’re standing in the middle of the flock.”
“Don’t worry we don’t keep the mean ones around.”
“What do you do with them?”
Grace made a motion across her neck with her finger. “Into the soup pot they go.”
Taken with the soft peeps and coos, Emma asked, “Does that happen often?”
“Not with this group. These two breeds are pretty docile birds. Some other breeds are more aggressive.”
“I didn’t know there were different kinds of chickens.”
“There are hundreds of varieties around the world. Some are hardier in winter climates like these two breeds. They lay eggs reliably and like to forage for their food so it cuts down on the feed we have to buy for them.” Grace strode to the front of the egg mobile and lifted a metal T-bar that was attached to the axle with wing nuts. “Come on this side of me,” she said indicating her left. “Hold the bar up about chest high and lean into it. Ready?” She glanced over at Emma who nodded. “Push!”
“Oh my God.” Emma felt her legs quiver with the strain of pushing her full body weight against the tractor. “Can we actually move this thing?”
“Sure. Push, Emma. We almost have it moving.”
“Do we?” Emma pushed until she thought she couldn’t push any harder. When she hardly had any strength left to give she felt the mobile start to slowly roll forward.
“Don’t stop.”
“Where are we going with it?” Emma asked through gritted teeth.
“Straight ahead,” Grace said.
“Do you do this everyday?” Emma asked between breaths
“No. Every three days we move them. You’re doing great. Keep going,” Grace said.
“Who needs a gym membership doing this kind of work?” Emma gasped.
“Okay we’re there.” Grace stopped pushing after they traipsed about thirty yards and lowered the T-bar to the ground. “You did great.”
“Thanks. I think,” Emma said, rubbing her wrist then shook it up and down to work out the stiffness.
“Are you okay?”
“Just not used to that kind of work.”
“Let me see.” Grace slipped both hands around Emma’s wrist, gently prodding and massaging the tissue.
Emma was quite aware of the gentle touch of Grace’s fingers and the sensation of her belly tightening and her pulse quickening.
“Anything hurt?”
“No, I’m fine.” Emma managed to find her voice. Grace’s head was bent over her while she examined her hand; their bodies close, but not touching. “Honestly there’s nothing wrong.” Except it’s been too long since I’ve gotten laid. Emma watched Grace lift her head and meet her gaze. Those blue eyes burned into hers and then as quickly as the intensity was there Grace’s eyes shuttered. Uncertain, Emma fumbled for a way out of the awkward moment. “How many eggs do they lay?”
“What?” Grace asked letting go Emma’s hand.
“How many eggs do the chickens lay?” Emma repeated, wondering if she misread what she’d seen in Grace’s eyes. Emma hoped for an instant Grace felt what she did and then the more rational and objective side of her brain took over and she dismissed the thought.
“Depends on the time of year and how old they are.” Grace cleared her throat and continued on as if nothing happened. “Come on we’re done here. Let’s get back to the horses.”
Emma felt disconnected and oddly hollow as she followed Grace back to the two mares and climbed back atop Bella. She wanted that brief moment when Grace was holding her hand back again.
Grace led the horses to the right and fields with neat rows of plants came into view. “This is the beginning of our market garden.”
“What do you grow?” Emma spotted a half-dozen men and women in the fields. Dressed in white t-shirts and jeans, they were busy harvesting crops.
“Tomatoes, peppers, herbs, onions, leeks, lettuce, beets, carrots, kale. You name it, pretty much anything you see at a farmer’s market, we grow.”
“They’re out early,” Emma indicated the people out in the fields.
“Better to harvest in the morning before it gets too hot in the fields. We’ll spend the afternoon washing and getting everything ready to bring to the farmer’s markets this week.”
“How many farmer’s markets do you attend?”
“We do three a week. We have pickup days on Saturdays throughout the month for people who can’t make it to the markets.”
“You sound like you do quite well.”
“We’ve gotten better at marketing ourselves, but there are still some things we can improve on,” Grace said, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her shoulders.
Chapter Eight
GRACE AND EMMA followed a tractor path up a gently rising slope. The horses meandered past the lush gardens to the south and looped around to orchards and vineyards planted to the west side of the farm. In the distance, a cluster of cows nibbled grass where they had been herded for the day.
They crossed over into a glen where the pasture merged with the shadowy forest. A herd of black and brown pigs snuffled and snorted as they rooted around the ground.
Disturbed by the horses passing by, a small flock of birds erupted from the tall grass growing along the edge of the path and launched themselves into the air. Emma ducked when she felt the air stir violently around her as they flew past.
Grace reached over and tugged on Bella’s reins to keep her from lurching ahead. “Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault,” Emma said sitting up straighter in the saddle. She reached for the reins her hand brushing over Grace’s quite by accident. “How much land do you grow food on?”
“Close to a hundred and fifty acres, but that’s not all vegetables. We have blackberries, blue
berries and fruit trees on that acreage.”
“What’s the rest for?” Emma asked.
“We’re bordered on three sides by a forest that’s mostly hardwoods. We grow our own hay and sell what we don’t use. The rest is for the cows to graze on.”
“Don’t the dogs damage what you grow?”
“Occasionally they dig up a juicy carrot. Mostly they run and hunt small animals, play, sleep and play some more.”
“What a life,” Emma said.
“Yeah it is a good life for them and us,” Grace replied easily.
“How many people work for you?”
“It depends on the time of year. In the spring, summer and fall we might have twenty to twenty-five people who work full time. During the winter we’re down to five or six depending on how much work needs to be done.”
“I thought you would have more people.”
“Food doesn’t cost enough to pay for a larger crew.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.”
“We plant and harvest everything by hand. Most of our costs are labor. That’s why we recruit and train interns. We have a five-month summer program and then we have a yearlong apprenticeship.”
“People actually apprentice on the farm?”
“Sure. Most are high school and college graduates. They want to learn how to grow their own food. Some are interested in learning how to manage the animals. Others don’t have a clue what they want to do in life and this is just a waypoint for them on their journey,” Grace said. “The interns work five days a week except every third week is seven days. Saturday is minimal and Sunday is chore day. We provide them room and board. They can eat from our larder, within reason. The interns are responsible for cooking breakfast and lunch for themselves. Dinner is a communal affair with us Monday through Friday.”
“Can I sign up?”
Grace cast a glance over to Emma that indicated she wasn’t sure she heard right the first time. “All our slots are filled for the year.”
“Too bad. It sounds like it would be quite an experience.”