He came just before the harvest.
The sun kissed corn was ripe and the neighbours ranches had all the hands they needed. He was just another drifter with a twinkle in his eye but father knew at once he would be trouble. Yet he could not work alone and the winter would not wait. So he hung his pride and hired him while mother bit her lip.
That winter, the rain turned the road into a river and we never saw him again.
But the barn is full and, though the township spurn us, we eat.
And I dream.
This time, I’ll tell my parents that my son will have a brother.
Return to Julia’s Place