The hay up here was not just damp; between the rain last night and what had come in today, it was saturated. He didn’t know if he could salvage any of it, except for maybe the hay bales closest to the edge of the loft.
He called down to the floor of the barn. “Mateo! I need a couple two-by-fours and my toolbox.”
“What’d you find?” Mateo asked.
“Someone cut holes into the barn wall.”
“You sure?”
“Damn sure,” Jake muttered.
He cleared the hay out of the way. Mold and mildew grew fast in humid northeast Texas. Most wouldn’t be salvageable. The only food they had for the animals was the alfalfa in the bins below, which would be gone in a couple of days. After he fixed the holes, he’d ask Lyla to help him pull out any hay that was dry. They’d stack it in an empty stall for now, until the loft could be dried out and repaired.
Their livestock could graze when the rain stopped, but farm animals needed both grazing and feed. This would cost them out of pocket, because their insurance wouldn’t cover the hay. And their high deductible would make fixing the barn costly.
He kicked a bundle of ruined hay. Dammit! It was one thing after another.
“Jake?” Lyla’s voice came from below. “You okay?”
He didn’t want to upset his sister, though Lyla was the least likely to get upset about anything. She was so even-tempered that Avery made it a game to try and rile her up.
“Just angry.”
“About?”
What did he say? His parents had never lied to him about anything, opting to keep him included in the good and bad of running a farm. And it would come out anyway, he just didn’t want her to worry.
“I think someone cut through the wall here. I’m going to fix it.”
He heard Mateo say something, but not what he said. Then Mateo called, “I got the toolbox on the pulley!”
Jake walked over to the ladder, then stopped. The floorboards were mushy.
How long had the water been seeping through? How much damage was there?
He squatted near where he had pushed away the hay. Touched the unfinished wood. It was damp and soggy.
The entire loft was going to have to be replaced. He hoped he’dcaught the damage before it seeped into the walls, otherwise they’d have far more repairs than he expected.
This was something he and his dad could have done with Mateo’s help. They’d made major repairs before on the barn, the house; ever since Jake was ten he’d been able to handle most repairs with some guidance. He liked working with his hands. But his dad had done the bulk of the work. Could Jake do this alone? Even with Mateo and Lyla—who was far handier with tools than Avery or Bobby—Jake didn’t think they could fix such extensive damage without professional help.
Which meant more money out of pocket. Money that they couldn’t afford to spend when they were barely breaking even.
He went over to the pulley and hoisted up the heavy toolbox. Mateo climbed the ladder, saw that Jake had moved all the hay to the side. “Most, if not all of it, has to go,” Jake said. “Those”—he gestured to a smaller stack of bales near the edge of the loft—“are dry, but I’ll have Lyla go through them to make sure.”
“That’s nearly three-quarters of the hay wet?” Mateo said in disbelief. He inspected it, shook his head. “Damn.”
Jake picked up a two-by-four, his hammer, and a box of nails. He blocked first one hole, then the others. It didn’t take long, but it was a temporary fix. When the storm passed, he would need to check the entire wall for damage. Maybe he could replace just a few boards, and not the entire wall. Ditto for the loft. It might not all be ruined.
“What do you think happened?” Mateo asked.
“Someone came in and cut holes in my wall,” Jake said bluntly. “Sabotage.”
“You think?
“Yes, I do!” Jake didn’t want to get angry with Mateo, he had worked on the farm almost since Jake’s birth. He was practically family. He breathed out. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay, I get it.”
