Rendezvous II - Cover

Rendezvous II

Copyright© 2017 by Old Man with a Pen

Chapter 8

Hairy

John was surely helpful. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was going to pay for his help ... eventually. And the event was sooner than later. The first snow was a doozy. Two feet over night and still snowing. The day before was picnic weather ... today it was 20 below. The cows were huddled up in the brush by the creek.

The phone rang.

“Hairy, Helen. John was shoeing the Dun and the bastard kicked him. We need help feeding the cows.”

“On my way as soon as I fill the stokers.”

I banged on Karen’s bedroom door.

“What?”

“You better dress warm ... it snowed last night.”

She must have looked out her window, “I’ll say it snowed.”

“And still coming,” I said.

“I’ll catch the bus.” She called the driver and told him she needed a ride. “What are you doing?”

“Feeding John’s cows.”

“Huh?”

“Horse kicked him.”

“Stay warm.”

John had bought a new old truck ... a 1961 4X4 Chevrolet C-60 that had been a dump truck but was now a long wide pickup with a Detroit diesel, a six speed trans and a two speed rear axle.

On the way out to the barn, I asked, “John going to be alright?”

“I hope so ... I didn’t think I was ever going to get married until he came along. He likes big women and I like his big ... you know what I mean.” She was blushing. We got to the barn and she went inside and pretty soon I was damn near knocked silly by a bale.

To load it, I stacked hay bales two wide in the bed until bales stuck out the back but were still on the open tailgate. Then I loaded bales, one right, one left, the long way against the cab. I stacked until I was a whole bale over the cab. I tied the whole stack together by placing four single bales on each stack until I had 40 bales total Six in the bed and 34 stacked. Thirty-four bales is a wobbly load.

You got to be careful stacking ... a poorly stacked load could crush a man.

Helen drove and I opened and closed gates. At the first gate I waved at the bus driver. He was heading for the house to pick up Karen. We were the farthest out house on his route; that made her the first one on in the morning and the last one off. It gave her plenty of time for her homework ... and a nice nap.

Since it was the first snow, She shifted to lo-lo creeper trans and low range transfer case. Helen drove in a big circle ... mashing down the the snow. When she was satisfied that the cows knew what was going on ... the whole herd was following the truck ... and being damned noisy about it ... she told me to strip off the strings on one bale and keep them.

“Don’t lose the strings. The calves will eat them and it could kill the calf,” Helen shouted.

Then I split the loose bale in four parts and spread the parts across the width of the tire tracks. She kept driving and I kept dropping hay until it was all gone. This was my first feeding alone ... well ... without John.

“Thanks, Harold,” Helen said.

“Umh ... Helen ... it’s Hairy ... as in H ... A ... I ... R ... Y because I am ... very hairy.”

“Oh ... all this time I’ve been thinking H ... A ... R ... R ... Y, short for Harold.”

“Nope ... H.A.I.R.Y.”

“Cute. How did you get that nickname?”

“In my first life...” and I explained. It was long, convoluted ... and worthy of a few words on paper.

“Really?” She said, “You’ve lived here before?”

“No. I’ll live here again.” I said. “I’m in my past.”

She snickered.

“Really,” I said. I kept a straight face for ... oh... 30 seconds before I lost it.

She promised to tell no one.

Right.

And that was all it took to move me from staid respectability to nut case.

So ... as things go ... and they do ... go ... I fed cows morning and night for two weeks while John was recovering.

Stubborn fella.

He was no more ready to toss hundred pound bales than a ten year old.

He did it anyway.

That was how our first winter in Wyoming went. It was awful.

One morning I went to open the back door and it was totally blocked by snow. Hmm. Maybe that was the reason it was still dark. After digging out a space to look out ... I couldn’t see Karen’s Jeep ... the wind blown snow was dead level where the jeep was parked.

The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.