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“You’re about to get a real education, Sam,” Jericho said, sliding open the barn door. The smell—hay, sawdust, manure, the earthy sweetness of leather—greeted Jericho like a long-lost friend. The cows lowed mournfully in their stalls.
“What’s the matter with ’em?” Sam asked, stepping back. “They don’t sound happy.”
“They’re full of milk. If you were full of milk, you’d make that noise, too. They need to be relieved.” Jericho swung open the stall door and entered. He positioned a low stool beside one of the restless cows and patted the seat.
Sam balked. “You’re pulling my leg, Freddy.”
“Nope. But you, my friend, are about to be pulling something.” Jericho motioned Sam over to the stool.
“I don’t usually like to be this close to my food,” Sam said.
Jericho ignored him and reached under the cow. “Grab hold. Like this.”
“Do I take her to dinner first?”
“Sam.”
“I never… you know. On a cow, at least. What if she doesn’t like it? What if she kicks me?”
“I wouldn’t blame her.”
Jericho guided Sam’s fingers, pulling down. The milk hit the pail in a splattering stream. “It hit my eye!” Sam squeaked, blinking hard.
“Congratulations. You can tell everybody about this back home.”
“I’m never telling anybody about this. And you’re not gonna, either.”
“Just keep it up. One, two, one, two. Like a dance step.” Jericho was overcome by the memory of Lupe teaching him to dance behind the motel and was filled with longing for her. He wondered where the Haymakers were now and if she was also thinking of him and how long it might be before they were together again.
“Sure. Just like a dance step… in the world’s worst nightclub,” Sam said, fully extending his arms to keep as much distance as possible between himself and the cow. He gripped the cow’s udders like he was learning to drive.
Jericho patted Sam’s shoulder on his way out of the pen.
“Wait a minute! Just where do you think you’re going, Freddy?”
“There’s three more cows to go. And don’t call me Freddy.” Jericho closed the stall door behind him, grinning as he heard Sam squeal, “Wait a minute! Hey, don’t… don’t move! Stay still!”
The day came up in dazzling blue—a good omen for planting. Jericho hooked a team of draft horses to a wooden plow and grabbed hold, walking behind them as he guided the blade through the earth. With his enhanced strength, breaking up the ground was no trouble at all. He worked for hours without getting tired. The soil was awfully dry, though. Jericho crouched down and grabbed a palmful. It crumbled between his fingers. “Not looking so good,” he announced to Mr. Olson, who’d come to admire his handiwork in the field.
“Drought. Don’t it figure—there’s folks down south getting drowned by floods. Sure wish we could take the burden of rain from them and bring it to our crops. Hate to think what’ll happen if this dry spell lasts much longer. The topsoil could blow clean away.” Mr. Olson slipped off his hat and wiped a sleeved arm across his damp brow. “During the war, there was plenty for us. Corn fetched a dollar twenty-one a bushel. Now I’m lucky to clear forty-one cents for that same corn. Whole place is mortgaged to the hilt. It’s like they plumb forgot about us out here. Jake Marlowe eats the food we raise. Doesn’t mean he wants to pay for it. Those men in the boardrooms don’t have dirt under their fingernails. They don’t know what it takes to work the land.”
Jericho looked up. Not a rain cloud in sight.
“You think you could put a little touch of healing on these crops?” Jericho asked Memphis later as they gathered around the pump. They dunked their rags in the cold water and wiped the sweat from the backs of their necks.
“Does it work on plants, Memphis?” Isaiah asked. He had a cup of seeds. Bill had told him he could follow behind the plow and plant them deep in the earth and beautiful things would grow.
“I don’t know. I think it only works on people,” Memphis said. “And there’s a lot of land. Truth is, it really beat me up to help Evie. If we’re gonna fight the King of Crows and heal that breach, I need to build up some strength again.”
Jericho nodded. That was their priority. But his heart sank for the Olsons. They were close to losing the farm, he knew, and he hoped that whatever he and the others did here would be enough to turn the tide for them.
“What these crops need is rain,” Bill said. “And none of us has a power for that.”
Memphis cupped a hand above his eyes to block the sun’s glare. “Never thought I’d say this after what we went through in Mississippi, but come on, rain.”
The first chance he got, Isaiah was under the porch with Sarah Beth, holding the kittens. He nuzzled his favorite against his cheek and told Sarah Beth what he’d heard about the drought hurting the earth and making the crops fail. “You think we could bring on rain with our moon glow?”
“I don’t know. But there’s no reason we can’t try. Maybe we’ll discover a whole new power!”
