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CHAPTERFIVE
Parker saton the back of his horse, as he surveyed the field of wheat softly dancing in the wind in front of him.
Lord Farthington cleared his throat. “And so you see, the wheat is growing but the stocks are shorter than previous years and the heads are smaller. This should be an excellent year. I don’t know what’s happened.”
Parker swung off his horse, and then pulled his leather glove off his hand. Bending down, his dug his hand into the soil.
He’d grown to love dirt. Odd as that sounded for a lord.
But it was his life blood. And it had given him purpose and direction when he’d needed both.
And the color. It said so much about the quality.
He frowned down at the brown dirt in his hand. “What else do you plant in this field?”
“What else?” Lord Farthington asked. “What do you mean?”
He stood, allowing the rest of the soil to fall from his hand before he pulled off his other glove and brushed his hand together.
“Who is in charge of your farming practices?”
Farthington swung down too. “The same man my father had. And perhaps his father had too. Peeves is older than…” The other man gave a small smile. “Dirt.”
Rangeley laughed at that. “And there is a great deal to recommend a man with such experience. But this field hasn’t been rested in too many years.”
Farthington frowned. “My fault, I think. Because it’s the southernmost land, it gets the best sun. I had Peeves skip its last rest season.”
Rangeley nodded. “You can keep it in production but you need to plant other plants in the offseason to balance out the soil and keep it fertilized.”
“Your certain about this?”
It was one of the few topics he understood with absolute certainty. Rangeley shared some of his yield numbers for his acreage, the figures causing Farthington’s eyes to grow increasingly wide. “How are you not wildly successful?”
Rangeley ran a hand through his hair. “I’m trying to be. But my lack of equipment, coupled with the mountain of debt I’ve been working off and the sheer volume of other work that needs to be done…”
“You’ll get there.” Farthington patted his shoulder. “I can tell already.”
It was nice to hear. “Thank you.”
“I’ll tell you what. Educate Peeves on rotating my crop and I can send you home with some equipment. We’ve upgraded ours and I’ve perfectly good items that aren’t being used. I’ve even got some oxen that we’re not using for plowing. Peeves wants to try a new breed.”
Rangeley’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Of course,” the man turned to swing back in his saddle. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Peeves. He doesn’t hear so well so be prepared to yell.”
Rangeley swung up onto his own horse. Tillie had been orchestrating this turn of events last night. Gads, she was quick. And she’d made good on her promise and then some.
And he’d keep his too. He’d pretend to be her suitor for as long as she needed. With the extra equipment, he could open another field, make an actual profit next season.
Millie rose in his thoughts and his jaw clenched.
He hated to keep pretending to be Tillie’s suitor with Millie here. Even if she couldn’t be his, he’d like her to know that he wasn’t pursuing her sister…
He stopped himself. He owed Millie nothing.
His people. His land, that was his concern. And with more profits, was it possible that he needn’t marry at all? At least not for a dowry. Five more years like this and perhaps he’d have a decent home and a small amount of savings for himself.
The idea was heady.
