Free Six Miles From Nashville by Elaine Littau Page B

have to do this for Dad. We can do this. You two are good farm boys.”
    “Yeah, we can do it,” Zach said.
    Devon took a key from the hook and jogged to one of the grain trucks. He waved nervously to his brothers as he drove it to the gasoline tank to fill it up for the first time that day. Zach followed and waited to fill his.
    Johnny greased the zerks on the combine and checked it over before he turned the key and the monster roared to life. He eased it out of the large round top and onto the first field.
     

    Even though he felt the pressure of getting the harvest in, there was nothing like driving a combine through tall golden wheat. He was pleased when Zachary told him that the man at the elevator said the moisture content was not too high. From the looks of the tickets Devon and Zach handed him at noon, the dry land  was making about thirty-five bushels to the acre. Dad would be glad when Mom reported the results to him. Hopefully, there would be enough to pay some of the mounting hospital bills. Dad had worried about the costs so much that his recovery was hampered. The doctor finally allowed Mom to bring him home. She promised to not leave his side or let him work. That was a tall order, but she was doing it.
    Johnny helped his mother put the bed next to the window in their bedroom. He rigged the mattress with a board ramp under it so that his dad could recline on it as he was in an upright position. It might have been easier to rent a hospital bed, but that would have taken more money and a day for travel to town to get one and bring it in.
    Woodwork was second nature to Johnny and the project didn’t take much time. His dad was glad he figured a way for him to see the harvest in the fields close to the house.
    Everything Johnny did on the farm was to please his dad. He looked over the cloudless sky and prayed, “Father, please help us get the crop in with no troubles. The equipment is old, but it is good. The wheat is in good shape and the boys are agreeable in the work we have to do. Please let the weather hold and be with the neighbors and friends who are also harvesting. Let us see Your hand in all that we do.
    “Please help Dad recover soon. I need him and his wisdom to keep going on. And...Betty. Don’t let her think that I have run out on her. Show me what to do. Amen.”
    He stopped the combine and waited for Zach to make his approach. The kid has learned fast and done a good job. Well, so has Devon. I hope there will be money left over to pay them something for their work.
    After off-loading the grain, he put the combine in gear and began cutting more large swaths from the land. It wouldn’t be long before they moved to the next field.
    Soon the sun was dipping behind the table land. He turned on his headlights and continued cutting on the last section of land. They would be finished by midnight.
    The wind kicked up and threatening, angry clouds moved in. It rained the final night after the crop was in. They put the equipment into the round top and headed for the house. Large hailstones pelted them as they ran for cover.
    “Good thing we got the wheat in,” Devon yelled as he opened the screen door. He held it open and gri pped it tightly lest it fly off its hinges. He let his brothers walk through first.
    Mrs. Davis ran to the door with towels in her arms. Each of them grabbed one and began drying off in the mudroom. Their clean clothes were folded on the washer for them to take to their rooms. Zach grabbed the stack of his clothes and ran for the bathroom. “I need a shower,” he yelled.
    “I’m next,” Devon said as he looked at Johnny to see if he would challenge him.
    Johnny put his hand on Devon’s wet head and tossed the unruly hair into his eyes. The boy sported the same hair cut that Johnny had. Devon’s light brown hair was straight and touched the bottom of his chin when tossed over his eyes. Johnny’s had a bit of curl to it and seemed to never stay exactly the way he planned