Page 16 of Nixon’s Promise

“Did you make me two?”

“Of course I did, brought chips, too.” I gave him my best “duh” expression and watched as both of the guys dropped the pipes they’d been hauling out of the building onto the trailer that was positioned next to it.

“Did you bring one for yourself?” Nixon asked and wiped his hands on his thighs.

“No. I already ate.”

“You got a minute to stay or are you busy?”

“I have a minute.”

Zack walked over and took the cooler from my hand. Dropping it on the trailer he opened it up, pulled out a sandwich, and handed it to Nixon. Then he reached back in and got one for himself. Without waiting for Nix, Zack dug in. He did this like he did whenever food was placed in front of him—wordlessly and with gusto.

“Thanks.” Nix held out his sandwich and with a lot less enthusiasm he took a bite.

It wasn’t that Nix was any less appreciative. It was that sometime in his life he’d learned manners, something my brother lacked.

“No problem.”

I looked at the trailer, then to the building they’d come out of. “Wow. You guys have gotten a lot done.”

“You can go in,” Nixon offered.

I had to admit I was a little curious. I’d lived in the small farming community for five years, yet I’d never seen how cows were milked. I climbed the one cement step and poked my head in, looking around the cobweb-covered room, I quickly changed my mind.

“You can go all the way in.” I felt Nixon’s hand on my lower back and all thoughts of creepy-crawly spiders fled.

“No. I think I’m good right here.” I could see everything I needed without going into the barn. “Why is there a big gully on the other side?”

“It’s called a gutter.”

He went on to explain how the cows walked in through the door on the far side of the room and would place their heads to the stanchions—there were twenty, I counted—and the cows’ necks would be locked in with feed placed in front of them. Nixon had also explained that this setup was obsolete, however his father had never upgraded since they were a small dairy only milking fifty head, even though they owned seventy-five at any given time.

Zack had joined us in the barn and pointed out where they’d disassembled the pipeline that had taken the milk from this room into the adjoining building where the milk went through a series of filters before it was dumped into a tank for storage until the milk truck came for pick up.

I was impressed by how much my brother knew about the process—he’d apparently paid attention to Nix’s How to Milk Cows lesson. Incidentally, the gutter was there to collect the manure. When my nose crinkled in disgust Zack laughed and humorously reminded me, everything takes a dump. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, and not something I wanted to talk about with a shirtless Nixon, or a clothed Nixon for that matter. As a matter of fact, I wanted to steer clear of any topics of shit altogether.

With my tour done, and both men having consumed both sandwiches, it was time for me to leave.

“Well, I’ll let you two get back to work.”

“You got something you need to get back to?” Nix asked.

“No.”

“Stay.”

“Okay. But only if you put me to work.”

Nix’s lips tipped up into a smile and with a shake of his head he started to laugh.

Deep, rumbly, and oh-so-sexy.

“You need to learn how to sit and relax,” he told me.

“You’re probably right, but it won’t be happening today.”

With a thousand-mega-watt smile firmly in place he walked over to me, leaned close to my ear and growled, “But it will happen.”