Chapter 2 BOY FROM THE CITY

John pulled down the window, attempting to diffuse some of her rages. "Hello, Carly. It's been a long time."

"Not long enough," she answered immediately. "Does that mean I have to kick your a$$ before answering my question?"

He may have laughed if he didn't believe she meant it. Carly was a spitfire when she wanted to be, despite being over five and a half feet tall and weighing hardly more than a hundred and twenty pounds. Logan often claimed that her fiery personality was due to her red hair, and John was always pleased to concur. Her striking red mane had faded to strawberry blonde over the years, and her adolescent acne had healed.

Carly had become a knockout somewhere during his absence.

Even when she was dressed for work, she could turn heads. Her boots were caked in what he assumed was manure, and she donned a red baseball cap to hide the bulk of her strawberry blonde hair. Even so, it took all he had not to look.

John returned his gaze to her as he struggled to regain control. "Your father requested that I come by. He said that he could have a job for me."

Carly's scowl worsened if that's possible. "The post has been filled. You may go at this time."

John's jaw fell open, but the sight of someone else spared him before he could even respond.

Paul Nichols was the man.

He seemed to be a bit older than John recalled, and his blond hair was a lot grayer than it used to be, but the farm patriarch appeared to be in excellent health.

"Carly, please be kind to our visitor. Is that how you treat an old friend?" Paul came to a halt alongside John's automobile.

"No buddy of mine," Carly mumbled as she turned away. She dashed out the door, quickly vanishing inside the milk house.

"I'm sorry about that, John!" Paul said, his face flushed with embarrassment. "She's probably as fiery as you remember, huh?"

"If not more so," John said, chuckling nervously. He stepped out of the car and extended his hand to shake Paul's. "Paul, it's good to see you again. It's been a while."

Paul began to nod. "That has been the case. I'm delighted I happened to run across your aunt the other day. She was the one who informed me that you had returned to town. How long do you intend to stay?"

John shook his head. "That's something I'm not sure about right now. I'm not sure how long I'll be here, and all I wanted was a new start."

"Are you looking for work if that's the case? I could use some assistance around here. The last man was injured last week, and I'd want to hire someone who knows their way here."

John inhaled deeply. "That's correct, Paul. I'm simply not sure whether it's a good idea."

"Oh," Paul said, visibly shaken. "It's okay with me, John."

"Don't get me wrong, there are a couple of too many memories surrounding this place," John swiftly said. "I don't believe there's anything further to say about it."

"You realize what occurred ten years ago wasn't your fault," Paul sympathized. "I know that's one of the reasons you left town, but you don't have to worry about it here. Not right now."

John grinned and returned his thumb to the milk house. "I believe Carly still believes it was."

Paul motioned with his hand. "Don't be concerned about Carly. She, like her mother, is a jerk. She'll change her mind. John, I'm sure I could put you to good use. There aren't many other trustworthy folks around town anymore. To be honest, I'm beginning to wonder whether I wouldn't be better off selling the property. It's simply not the same as it used to be."

John could see genuine emotion in Paul's eyes. The type that implied the work was wearing him down. He knew this wasn't an easy life, but he'd made it seem such for as long as he'd known Paul. It was upsetting to see the anguish in his eyes after just being back for five minutes.

Even yet, it made little difference to his response. John opened his lips to answer, but both men were interrupted by the arrival of a vast pickup vehicle in the driveway. One of the giant trucks John had ever seen was an F-250 with a massive lift package that raised it far above the ground.

Paul quickly switched his gaze to it and glared. "Cooper," he hissed, raising a palm to John. "Give me a minute, and I'll get this jerk off my land."

John saw a greasy grin as the guy in the vehicle pulled down the window. The guy was almost the same age as Paul, but he lacked the gray and wore too much gel. It reminded John of some of the individuals he'd seen in the city, and he disliked the guy right once.

"Paul, Paul, Paul, how are we today?" the driver said, looking out the window.

"We're busy," Paul responded quickly. "So, unless you have anything for me, this isn't a social call."

"What do you think you know? I have a gift for you, "The driver responded quickly. He was holding a manila envelope. "A proposal for your farm."

"How often do I have to tell you, Mike Cooper?" Paul snarled. "I'm not selling my farm."

Mike Cooper shrugged, but the grin on his face remained. "I assumed you'd had some time to think about it. Maybe you'll come around to my point of view?"

"That's a long shot. Now go out! We have a lot of work to do."

"This property will be mine one day, Paul," Mike stated as he slid the window back up. "Consider it." Mike's attention shifted to John for a brief moment. He grinned at him before going into reverse and backing out of the driveway.

"No-good, worthless piece of trash," Paul remarked as he went back over. "That guy isn't going to accept no for an answer."

"How come that name seems familiar to me?" John wondered. "Who is Mike Cooper?"

"You've been gone long, son," Paul replied. "He owns half of the county. His property is over three thousand acres in size. I'm not sure why he wants mine so badly, but I'm not going to sell it to him."

John clenched his teeth. "I don't intend to get you stirred up, but weren't you just mentioning that it could be time to sell the farm? Why not just give it to Mike Cooper?"

"Because he'd simply convert it into the open pasture," Paul replied dismissively. "With its present size, this farm can sustain a decent family. It has sustained my family for over five generations. I owe it to my family to keep it operating, and if I sell it to Mike Cooper, I'll be damned." Paul shook his head. "No, I'll retire sometime. I'm going to sell it to Neal. Don't you remember Neal?"

John cracked a grin. "Sure do," he said, remembering the middle-aged farmhand with a friendly grin who worked so hard on the farm that Paul offered him a tiny home to live in. "How is he getting along?"

"Same as usual, yet that guy is a farmer at heart. I'll sell it to him if I can't keep it in my family. Maybe then he'll be able to get the real assistance we need to mend all that's wrong around here."

"How about Carly?" John inquired.

"I'm not sure," Paul replied a bit too hastily. "I'm not sure she wants to do this forever. She may simply be assisting me. I don't want to bother her with it if that's the case. It's better to go to someone like Neal who can handle it and truly wants to do it. He's probably the only other person I have left that I can trust."

The man's plight moved John at the time. His remorse prickled at him, reminding him that Paul no longer had Logan to take over as the sixth generation. Now he had a virtually broken guy in front of him, surrounded by larger farms and unable to keep the farm going.

Despite his skepticism, John was starting to change his mind.

Paul took a big breath and exhaled. "Anyway, John, it was lovely to see you again. I appreciate your visit. Could you please refer me to anybody you know seeking honest work?" Paul gave him a fatherly slap on the shoulder and then began to walk away.

John yelled out, "Hey, Paul."

The older guy came to a halt and turned around.

"When can I begin?"

Paul's face took time to adjust before he broke a grin. "Really?"

"Yes, indeed. I see you have a genuine need, and heck, I'm not doing much these days. "John shrugged, smiling. "What's the harm?"

Paul stepped back and rested his hand on his shoulder. "I'd appreciate that if you could."

"You may need to keep Carly and me apart for a while, but I'm prepared to give it a chance. When do you want me to arrive tomorrow?"

"Why not make it five? You still know how to milk, don't you? I'm doing the milking in the morning, and we have hay to do after that, "Paul said. "The weather should be beautiful for the next several days, so it may be exactly what we need."

John extended his hand. "I'll see you at five."