Page 78 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Yeah, but you have to be hot as hell running this thing.” He banged on the tire and continued his walk around.

“So? I’m not afraid of hard work and sweat.” I stood a little straighter and braced for the “you’re a woman doing man’s work” lecture, surprised it would come from Nixon. “What’s bothering you? I’ve been running tractors all my life. Hell, I’ve picked up hay bales right alongside of you.”

“You shouldn’t have had to sell the rest of your land.” His comment startled me and I steadied myself on the wall of the barn. “You work too hard. Your dad left that to you. He wanted you to work it. You should’ve been able to.”

“I gave it my best shot, Nix.”

“I know you did. That’s why it pisses me off. You shouldn’t have had to sell,” he repeated.

“At least Mr. Nickels bought it. He worked the land until he died.”

“Yeah, and now that fucking weasel Coleman owns it.”

Reggie Coleman did indeed own it. When he bought the Nickels’ farm, that included the acreage that had once belonged to my dad. It was a kick in the teeth thinking about it.

“I want you to have it back.”

“No way.” I put my hand up. “I can’t manage the extra two-hundred acres. It’s gone. I’ve made peace with it. As long as I still have the house, that’s all that matters to me.”

“You could rent the land out,” he suggested.

“Really? To who? That’s why Mrs. Nickels had to sell in the first place. No one would touch it. She was growing a forest of weeds. And you know how expensive it is to spray herbicides on the fields. She couldn’t afford it.”

“Fucking Reggie Coleman,” he bit out.

“You can say that again. I know he put the word out so no one would rent her land. But I just can’t understand why everyone bows down to him. What makes him so high and mighty? Why is everyone in this town so afraid of him? I can understand the shopkeepers who discontinued selling my stuff, he could raise their rent or even cancel their leases. I wouldn’t put it past him to do some shady shit like that. But farmers? It doesn’t make sense, but I know he did it somehow.”

“I agree with you.” Then Nix changed the subject. “What do you want to do? Plow the field now and get it ready for a fall crop or is it too early?”

“It’s never too early to get a jump start on tomorrow’s work,” I told him.

“My dad used to say that.” Nixon smiled, but it looked painful.

“Your dad taught me a lot about hard work. Him and my dad were cut from the same cloth. Men’s men, but still had a soft hand and a kind word. I think my dad would be happy that your dad continued to teach the lesson he’d started. I loved your dad, Nix. He was a good man. And losing him was devastating.”

Nixon looked thoughtful and took his time to gather himself. I knew how much he’d missed his dad when he was gone in the Navy. And having him pass away while he was gone had to be hard for him.

“He was proud of you,” Nixon said and held my stare. “‘That girl can work from sun up to sun down and show my men a thing or two and she does it looking as pretty as can be.’” Nix did his best impression of his father’s gruff voice.

Wetness hit the corners of my eyes. I’d known Wayne Swagger was pleased with my work on his farm but I hadn’t known he’d talked to Nixon about it.

“He was always a character. Coming up with some crazy saying that made no sense but weirdly it did. And he swore by that damn Farmers Almanac. Wouldn’t plant beans until the moon was just right.” I shook my head. “I’m really sorry you lost him. I don’t know if I told you that already. But I hope you know how much he loved you and talked about you all the time. I think his favorite thing to yell at the guys when they slacked off was, ‘You don’t know Navy SEAL tough. Until you do, quit your bitching and get to work.’ He was proud of your accomplishments.”

“Thanks for that. I miss him.”

“I know you do.”

“Just one more time I wish I could hear him yell at me across the house to get my ass to work, then mumble under his breath I was as useless as tits on a bull. You know not very many people would understand why a son would miss his dad berating him. But you do.”

“Hell, yeah I do. Your dad was a cantankerous old man, but damn if he didn’t love hard. And he loved you the most, Nixon.”

“If him working me to the bone equaled love, he did.”

“You know it does.” I smiled.

Nixon’s expression darkened. “We need to clear the air about that night. Jameson brought it up and—”

“No, we don’t. I was out of control and you were the only one who did right by me.”