Chapter 3 BOY FROM THE CITY

John groaned loudly when his alarm went off at four-fifteen a.m. the following morning. It took him a mere second to recall why he was awake at such an ungodly hour, but he quickly pulled himself out of bed to begin getting ready.

John examined himself in the mirror before putting on his clothes. He now had an excellent five o'clock shadow on his face, which had been rare in recent years. He enjoyed how his black hair looked along his chin and cheekbones and decided to keep it that way. The rest of him was the same as it had always been: short, black hair on his head, bright green eyes, and a square jaw. He wouldn't be winning any modeling contests anytime soon, but none of the ladies he'd dated had ever complained about his appearance.

Fortunately for him, he could locate some old clothing that he didn't mind getting ripped and stinky, and as he drove the short distance to the farm, he pondered what he'd gotten himself into.

"John, there you are. Hello and good morning, "As soon as John walked inside the milk house, Paul smiled.

"Morning," mumbled John slowly, still half sleeping.

Paul began to laugh. "You're going to wake up quickly, son. Why don't you begin bringing in the cows? You remember how to do it, don't you?"

John, on the other hand, recalled everything. It was one of the phases of the morning milking that he always found difficult. Because the cows were constantly out in the pasture at night, they had to be collected up and brought back to the barn to begin the procedure. That included hiking over thirty acres of property to gather them up when the sun hadn't yet risen.

Thankfully, it was as easy as riding a bike, and John had all the cows brought into the barn, secured into their stalls, and ready to begin the morning milking in no time.

"You remember how to connect the milkers, don't you?" Paul questioned as he raised one of the twelve distinct milking machines.

"I'm sure it hasn't altered in 10 years," John speculated.

"You are correct. Simply inspect the teats before attaching them. The last thing we need is for mastitis to enter the tank, "Paul said while giving over one of the devices. "Why don't you start with that row over there, and we'll work our way down? Just keep an eye out for that cow. She's a screamer."

Paul was correct, as the cow he mentioned, one with a diamond-shaped mark on her side, attempted to kick him as soon as he connected the milker. John effortlessly avoided it owing to his foresight, and he could activate the machine.

She was drained empty in approximately 10 minutes, allowing him to go to the next cow. They continued to round up the whole herd over the following two hours. The procedure required more labor and speed than it looked, and although he quickly fell behind Paul, John eventually achieved an excellent cadence.

"John, you did a fantastic job. That's not awful at all. Just as in the past, "Paul smiled as they let the final cow return to pasture.

"I'd nearly forgotten about the scent," John replied, annoyed. "There is no scent like a dairy farm in the world."

Paul inhaled deeply and exaggeratedly. "It smells like hard labor; that's what it is."

"It still smells like trash to me," a woman's voice from behind them said.

Carly had crept up behind them as John looked around. Her face was tense when she spotted him, and her arms crossed over her chest. Even in the early morning hours, she looked beautiful in her tight blue jeans and baseball hat, which occurred to have her strawberry blonde hair in a ponytail falling out from the back.

"Never mind her, John," Paul chuckled as Carly continued going. "You did a fantastic job this morning. Now that we've finished in here let's get cleaned up before I present you to the rest of the men."

The remainder of the Nichols' farm employees arrived shortly after the milking was finished. John was the first to see an old face.

"I'll pay the price! Is that you, John?" Neal, who had been around for a long time, inquired. Neal was approximately forty years old, and he'd worked with Paul for as long as anybody could remember.

"Neal, fantastic to see you again," John remarked, shaking the man's hand excitedly.

"You, too, you. Returning to give it another go, eh?"

"For the time being, I suppose," John responded. "I figured Paul could use some assistance, so here I am."

"So, I'm glad you're back. Please let me know if you need anything. "As the next truck arrived, Neal responded.

A younger man, roughly John's age, stepped out of the vehicle and began to examine him. He appeared to look at John with a combination of interest and hostility.

"Tate, come over here and meet John," Paul remarked, motioning to the newcomer.

"So, he is the city lad, isn't he?" Tate inquired as he came to a halt close to John. The farmhand had sandy blond hair and wore an outdated Van Halen shirt with too many holes.

John pursed his lips and reached out a hand. "My name is John."

"No, you're a 'City Boy' until you show yourself helpful," Tate remarked, spitting some chewing tobacco on the ground. "Let's see how you handle the hay today."

"Tate, John used to work for me ten years ago," Paul stated as he moved between the two. "He understands what he's doing here."

Tate shook his head. "We'll see what happens then, won't we?"

Neal approached Tate as he went away. "Don't worry about him, John. Tate is a little sluggish to warm up to strangers."

"And we've got a lot of newcomers recently," Paul said. "In my perspective, Tate ends up frightening them away."

"It's not a big deal. In New York, he'd be called friendly, "John said. "I've gotten accustomed to it."

"At least you don't have to worry about anything with this new arrival," Neal replied, indicating toward another man approaching. According to his attire, this one was a few years younger than John. He had a strange expression in his eyes that John couldn't determine whether it was malice or simply sluggishness.

Neal seems to believe the latter. "Rory, your boots are undone once again. Do you even know how to knot them properly?"

Rory cursed under his breath as he glanced down at his laces. He knelt to solve the issue immediately quickly, making Neal giggle. "He's not the smartest tool in the shed, but he does the job. Meet Rory, John."

"Hey, guy," John replied, extending his hand.

"You smoke?" Rory said, tapping a carton of cigarettes from his front pocket.

John's head trembled. "I don't think so."

Rory shook his head. "Well, anything." He then began to walk away.

"He's not entirely there, but he's at least harmless," Neal added.

"Well, that's the whole crew," Paul remarked. "I'm going to start baling the hay right now, and then we'll cut another field and bag it in a few days. If you have any questions, simply ask Neal, and he'll get you set up. Deal?"

"Deal," John said emphatically.

Neal smiled and stroked his shoulder. "John, it'll be exactly like old times. I'm glad you're back! Let's get started since we have a wagon to unload."

John watched as Carly raced past with a load of square hay bales in a cart tied to the back of her tractor as the two of them started to trek up the hill to the next barn.

"So, how long are you going to be in town? Several weeks?" Neal inquired as they went up together.

"That's a great question, Neal. I'm not sure I can answer that right now."

"Paul said that you had just relocated from the city. Are you insane or what? "With a smile, Neal inquired. "What compelled you to return here of all places?"

"Honestly? The nagging feeling that the city wasn't for me. I'm more at ease here than ever, "John said. "Right now, I have no notion what a long-term strategy looks like. I simply sort of stumbled into it, and I'm going to take it one day at a time."

"That's fair," Neal remarked. "Even if you aren't missing anything back home. Things are becoming tough here. I'm not sure whether Paul told you, but he's recently had a run of terrible luck."

"He didn't say anything explicit, but I got that feeling when I spoke to him yesterday," John said.

Neal gave the nod. "Yeah, it's simply a series of terrible luck. There have been a few injuries and some broken equipment, but Paul believes the writing is on the wall. Maybe it's time for him to let go of everything, and that's simply God's way of telling him."

"Do you believe he will? Will you be giving it up anytime soon?"

Neal smiled as he shrugged. "Who can say? Perhaps if his terrible luck continues. But now that you're here let's see if we can make a difference." Neal gave him a lighthearted smack as they approached the barn. "I hope your muscles feel well today. You will be stacking hay bales."

If you've never seen hay bales before, it's crucial to understand that there are two types. Square hay bales and round hay bales. The circular kind is probably more frequent, which most people notice when thinking of hay bales. They can only be carried by tractor and need a large baler to roll them into shape and spit them out the rear.

The square bales were unique. They were far lighter than round bales and could be transported by hand. However, the square bales remained heavy, and the only feasible method to move them was to lift them by two bundles of twine tied around the center. They might be much richer if the hay was still damp from a recent cut.

Both guys quickly joined Tate and Rory, waiting for Carly to back the wagon closer to the barn. Inside the barn, there were two elevators for moving the bales to higher levels, and she quickly positioned the cart so that it was directly between them.

"All right, here's what we're going to do," Carly stated as she turned off the tractor's motor and got down. "Rory and Neal will unload this wagon. I'll grab another wagon for us to use once this one is empty. Tate, I need you to be on the lowest level, retrieving bales from the elevator." Carly then turned to face John and gave him a sneer. "You may take them up to the top and stack them there."

John peered up to the barn's highest point. With the sun already up and things heating up, he knew it was the last place anybody wanted to be. Still, he didn't want to raise his voice on his first day and give them more cause to treat him like the city lad they assumed he was, so he nodded and went to work.

Sure enough, he was drenched in sweat within minutes of reaching that peak level. His shirt was quickly soaked, and he would have thrown it away if the hay hadn't been so uncomfortable when it touched his skin. Instead, he sat quietly while Carly brought five wagons around for them to unload.

It took them the remainder of the morning to stack and wrapped the bales. John was looking forward to a break as lunchtime approached. His hands were hot and torn up from lifting the bales with the twine, and they hurt terribly whenever he attempted to squeeze them.

"Hey there, City Boy," Tate remarked, seeing his hands. "That's very different from stacking papers in a tower, isn't it?"

"I just need to get my hands acclimated to it," John said, trying to grip them again.

"You should get accustomed to it. We'll be doing this all week, City Boy."

"Tate, leave the guy alone," Neal yelled, hitting the farmhand on the back of the head with his hat before returning his attention to John. "John, you did an excellent job! You can tell you haven't stacked in a long time, but overall, not terrible for not doing it for ten years."

John couldn't stop himself from smiling. "Thank you, Neal." He recalled why he admired the old farmhand so much. Neal had a knack for making everyone feel at ease.

"Well, I believe he did a piss-poor job," Carly complained. "That hay might have been piled better by a teenager girl." She walked away, folding her arms and glaring at him.

"Wowee, I'd say you've already done it, City Boy. I've never seen somebody get so fast on Carly's bad side!" Tate exclaimed, laughing heartily. "What did you do to irritate her so quickly?"

"Carly and I have a history," John said gently.

"What does this imply? You two used to date, right?"

Rory spoke out for the first time. "I'm sure he desires. With a lady who resembles her."

"No, that was something that occurred a very long time ago. History of the past, "John said.

Tate laughed. "She doesn't think he's that old."