The Farm (closed to DangerousDarkEyes)

[TheLongRider]

My paternal great-great-grandparents bought the farm and moved in after Samuel Trout II came back from the Spanish-American war. His mother taught him how to farm dairy in Canada as a boy, and he made a killing selling to the yokels in Dreyton, Montana. Nowadays, the farm's making ends meet, but the modernization of dairy tech killed the old ways. It used to be a village society-type of arrangement, where everybody served a function and bartered or gave goods away, depending on how well your co-exister liked you. Now, we have a Wal-Mart.

I wasn't ever connected to the farm, as far as what it needed. I liked reading more than milking or churning butter, and my dad, Sam Trout VI, hated it. Seeing as my older sister ran off to Missoula for college and to escape the evolving issues at home, dad saw me, Sammy Trout VII, as the last hope for keeping the family legacy alive. No matter how many years I worked, I never got any bigger, which I blame on the 5'nothing" members of my mother's family. I was genetically useless, but dad didn't want to give up.

I can do the work, but I don't like it. As soon as I finish high school, I intend to leave and do something bigger than sell cheese to neighbors I don't like. I liked the idea of designing buildings. I was always good at drawing, and I was somebody who thought about physics pretty often. My glasses and 120 pound physique made me the epitome of 'nerd' in a town that was otherwise genetically pretty uniform: lots of burly kids with sun tans and scars from illegally unjamming grain silos, farmer tans in every classroom and ballcaps on every dashboard. I was a welp in a deserted frontier.

I'd be lying if I said people accepted me for who I was. More than once, adults would ask me anout my social awkwardness and demand to know, "Suhn, yeu eh homoseshual?" I always said, and meant, no. Kids my age didn't get it, either. I never got physically bullied, but mentally, I was under siege. When I saw members of the hockey and golf teams, of all things, getting higher grades than me followed by teasing about how I wasn't even intellectually superior, it hurt.

But I was tough. I may be a welp, but my spirit's been forged in blood and milk. I never let them get to me, and never cried about anything. At least, that's what seemed to make it seem right, cosmically balanced, like there was some semblance of worth to the name I couldn't live down. In reality, I couldn't wait to leave everyone. My sister, bless her heart, always tried to back me up and help me understand why things were how they were. She had suffered the same way growing up, probably more as a girl, but she always seemed to hold onto defending me as defending a part of herself that she couldn't cover. There was something Freudian about how she acted.

So, with hope dwinsling, my father decided to hire another pair of hands through the winter. We'd had ranch hands come through before, so it was no big wonder when I caught mom getting the HELP WANTED signs out from storage to post around town. Inside, I completely expected not one person to respond, but the job was taken before August was up, just after my senior school year started.

I usually didn't fraternize or snoop on our hired hands, as most of them were usually dull and were hardly literate (always an immediate flag showing exactly what kind of person they were), but this one sounded like a girl. It was so strongly feminine that deductive reasoning told me my dad had hired an ACTUAL woman. The first time I heard that voice, I shook and immediately became nervous. I was never comfortable around females, barring mom and my sister. I even had trouble with my female teachers and the walker-bound Desdemona, who'd been running the front desk of her husband's carpentry shop in town for thousands of years.

I'd just been passing my dad's office on the way to the garage when I heard the 'interview' phase going on. I listened, but prepared to flee in social ineptitude as soon as the negotiations finalized.

"Need hay brought out every morning and evening, cows milked as often as they eat, and mostly some help with my wife and making cheese and butter and other little products, it's what we're known for. We just can't keep up with this and trying to negotiate for Rembrandt's hogs down the road there; I'd get my son to help, but he wants to focus on school." He coughed and cleared his throat. "I shouldn't need to say it, but ain't no discrimination or any of that crap on this farm. If you can do the work, you're alright by me. I known some shit gone on at other ranches, but I suppose I mean to say, eh," Dad took a jokingly articulate tone, which he attributed to the Yankees out west. "This is a safe envorionment." He chuckled.

"Your resume don't say much, and that's fine; I prefer conversation over this official crap, but can ypu tell me a little about the kind of work you done before?"

[DangerousDarkEyes]

Sandy Klyne had been born and raised in Dreyton, Montana. She had grown up and gown to school knowing just about everyone in town. When she wasn’t in school, she was helping her mother with the horses on their small horse ranch. They trained race horses that came and went, but what she loved was getting on the horse and feeling the wind in her golden blonde hair blowing as she ran the horse around the track. She looked forward to it even though her parents really didn’t approve. They were hoping she would soon find some nice young man to marry, raise a family. But Sandy had different ideas, she would love to be a jockey, but since she was more than 5’4” inches, she just was too tall to do that.

Her parents were always fixing her up with dates with boys in the neighborhood thru the parents. It seemed the parents were really the ones that should be getting together. The boys she dated were after only one thing and as far as carrying on a conversation, they had no smarts for that. Their idea of a date was a quick hamburger, then go to the woods to make out and get as much as they wanted. She had turned them all down, even if it meant getting physical with them. She wasn’t going to be one of those kinds of girls, there were plenty of them around. She decided she would wait until it was a man that really sought her heart and not her body.

She had just graduated high school, turned 18 and was glad it was over with. Her parents decided if she wasn’t going to settle down, she needed to find a job somewhere. They didn’t want her just running around and they really didn’t need her hanging around the ranch hands at there place. She wasn’t too happy about this, but she looked thru the classified ads and found one that she had a good idea might make her parents a bit mad, so she didn’t tell them where she was going.

She put on a pair of tight jeans and tight t-shirt, brushed her golden blonde hair, putting it in a pony tail and went out the door. She knew exactly where the Trout place was, in fact having been there a time or two picking up something her mother or father had ordered from them. She also knew about their son, he had been in her graduating class. Actually he was pretty nice looking, even with the glasses, but they had only briefly spoke now and again.

Her parents would never approve of her working on a farm, probably because of the same reason they didn’t want her working on their ranch. She hadn’t been by there in quite some time, although had seen the family at the graduation.

Now she was sitting in their house for an interview for the job.

"Your resume don't say much, and that's fine; I prefer conversation over this official crap, but can you tell me a little about the kind of work you done before?"

“Well sir, I don’t really have a lot of experience. I’ve been going to school and working on my dads ranch, you know of it. It’s the Klyne Ranch, we train race horses. But my mom has a cow and chickens, a rooster along with all the horses. I know how to feed all of those animals, know how to milk a cow and I’m not afraid of hard work. In fact, I really enjoy working outside and willing to do whatever job you assign me to. You won’t be sorry if you hire me, I promise you.”

She sat there looking at him with confidence and a smile, hoping she had just talked herself into a job.

[TheLongRider]

Dad huffed and chuckled, rearing back a bit in his seat.

"I think not! I know the grandma out there at the Klyne ranch, they's good people and I tell ya, you're the spitting image of your daddy. He must be thrilled that you're looking for ranch work." However backhanded it may have been, I know dad meant it as a compliment. The question would be whether or not the Klyne girl, that cowgirl I'd seen racing horses in town, would be willing to put up with more, seeing as she probably was getting the job.

"I can't tell ya for sure you've got the job." I immediately felt dumber than I wasn't. "Gotta consult the boss right quick. You hang here for awhile; I'll get you a drink." He stood up suddenly; I could hear his feet sliding on the cheap carpet and the leather of his chair stretching back out. Dad began walking to the door. I turned around and attempted to flee, but he was tall and his office was small; he patted me on the shoulder. "Hey. Get Klyne a glass of sweet tea. Your mom's, not the stuff from the store."

"It's the same thing."

"Son, you've got no idea."

He walked on, trying to find mom. I didn't know what he meant, but I never knew my mom for making sweet tea. It was mentally exasperating, but God knew I couldn't give the girl the glass. She was cute and I didn't know how to interact with girls. I was told they were human beings just like me, but I was awkward and that makes for a volatile conversation every single day.

Still, I poured a glass from the pitcher in the fridge. I got a few ice cubes in it, though it really didn't need them as the tea had been in our fridge for nearly two days. I walked back to the office and stopped dead behind the wall, staying out of sight as I considered how I'd pined for the Klyne girl a few years ago, the 34th crush I'd had in a long series of eyeing and wishing with inaction. I hadn't seen her since she graduated and I didn't know what to say. SHOULD I say anything? Would it be appropriate?

I bucked up, walked in, and stood in front of her with the glass, almost comedically silent. I made a crooked, polite smile at her that probably wasn't very aesthetically pleasing, and nodded at her.

"Hey."

I clicked my tongue, lay the glass down on the desk in front of her, and fled successfully. I passed dad on the way back to anywhere else, who eyed me with a sampling of judgment, almost as if he could taste my strangeness in the air. He shrugged me off and came back to his seat.

"Looks like it's a closed deal. The wife likes you and I do too, so you've got it if the boy ain't scared you away. I'll be relying on you to keep production somewhat steady and to keep that dairy barn tidy. Get here just after sunrise tomorrow, if you can manage, and we'll bring you up to speed. I'll get you your pay every sunday after church. Sound acceptable?"

[DangerousDarkEyes]

When Sandy heard Mr. Trout say that her father must be pleased she’s looking for ranch work, she almost burst out laughing. Her father didn’t know yet and when he found out he was going to be anything but happy. Even if it was the Trout Farm, it wouldn’t matter to him, heck he might even take the strap to me for this, she thought to herself. But she sat back and smiled, not going to worry about that now.

Shortly after Mr. Trout left the room to consult with his wife, she was being handed a glass of tea by Sammy, their son.

“Hey” he said and with that left the room as quickly as possible, before she got a chance to say anything to him. Poor guy is just shy, but maybe if I get the job we could change that. He’s got a lot going for him whether he knows it or not.

She had taken several sips of her tea and then Mr. Trout walked back in the room.

"Looks like it's a closed deal. The wife likes you and I do too, so you've got it if the boy ain't scared you away. I'll be relying on you to keep production somewhat steady and to keep that dairy barn tidy. Get here just after sunrise tomorrow, if you can manage, and we'll bring you up to speed. I'll get you your pay every Sunday after church. Sound acceptable?"

“It sounds very acceptable, I’ll take it. As for you’re son, he couldn’t scare me away, he’s a sweet guy, just a bit shy is all. I’ll be here tomorrow just after sunrise.” I said and got up and shook is hand to clinch the deal and then left the room. I spotted Sammy and poked my head in the living room.

“Hey to you too, I got the job, guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Without waiting for I reply, I left and went on home. Sunrise would come awfully early, but I was pretty use to that. I usually helped mom with breakfast and getting eggs or milk or whatever help she needed. Now I had to wait until Dad came in so I could tell them both about the job.

It was over the dinner table I sprang my news about working at the Trout farm, seeing to production and keeping the place tidy. There was an uncomfortable silence at the table and I continued eating my dinner. When Dad was done, he pushed his plate away and looked down at me.

“Don’t you go giving them any trouble while you’re there and do your job good. If I hear anything bad come out of this, it won’t be just the strap you’ll be getting.” With that he left the room.

Guess that went a lot easier than I expected. Mom hadn’t said anything and started picking up the dishes. I decided to leave her alone and went to clean up and read awhile before I turned the light off and went to sleep.

I was up before sunrise, as usual, and quickly showered, putting on a pair of well fitting jeans, a clean blue t-shirt and my brown working boots. I tied my hair up in a pony tail, to keep it out of my eyes and it was easier to work that way. I grabbed a biscuit off the table.

“Morning mom, I have to be there by sunrise so I’ll just take this with me. See you later today.”

“Have a good day honey, and please remember what you’re father said.”

I ignored the part about what dad said and left.

The sun was just beginning to rise when I knocked on the Trout’s front door.

[TheLongRider]

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[TheLongRider]

As soon as Sandy left, I immediately became nervous and began sweating. She got the job, and that meant there would be a cute girl on the farm, doing chores. Not only eould I be socially awkward, but dad would probably rub the fact she did better work than me in my face. This would screw my ability to talk to her even more and then she would tell people that Sammy Trout is still a weirdo. And then I would definitely have to move away, change my name, and begin lying about who I really was. What a crappy situation.

Dad's boots stomped onto the hardwood floor of the living room and he said my name to get my attention. "I need you helping that hand in the barn tomorrow. I'm gonna be gone most of the day and Mom'll be in town. You need to be sure she has everything she needs and if she asks you to help, you do it. Comprende?"

I nodded and, after he left, sighed. I wasn't angry that Dad didn't want me to show her around or to take charge in any way, or at the idea of being lower than an apprentice: I was solely focused on the fact I was going to be forced to spend time with Sandy. She'd probably want to talk; all girls loved talking and communicating and expressing specific things. I hadn't hardly had any conversations of worth since th last time I talked to my science teacher, Mr. Burley, and I didn't know how to talk to girls in the firstplace. I forecasted a storm of silence that would send me more adrift than I already felt. Adrift; what a good term, such a strong combination of letters and yet conveying such a soft, melancholy fate.

I went to bed with Sandy on my mind qnd the way her shirt fit on her body that day; it was tight and functional, a good choice, and accntuated her figures. I didn't think I was a pervert, as I'd never had an orgasm, but I, like many guys, found the female figure aesthetically pleasing and interesting to review. I bad no idea what I was going to do, or if it would even be as bad as I thought it would. People told me that I think too much, and it sure has made me self-conscious of what constitutes necessary thought. I bet Brad Huff, hockey champ and valedictorian, didn't have to think as much as I did. He'd be able to handle a simple task like being a bitch-assistant to a cute girl he probably went to high school with. I was no Brad Huff.

No, I was Samuel Trout VII, the smallest in a long line of strong men that built things and could use tools. I met none of those standards, either, and as far as I knew, I was adopted. It didn't much matter; if I transformed into a silver-tongued secret agent overnight, I would still be at a loss to make and mark a correct measurement, retrieve an appropriate tool, or advise on matters of the barn.

That was how it was most nights. It was tough sometimes, simply because a man isn't expected to have, let alone discuss, matters of isolation or weakness in general, and to cowboy up and confront issues with their own elbow grease and drive. It's how we got here and how my nice home was built, but the concepts escaped the bottom of the food chain. I found solace in the dreams of going to my mailboc and receiving acceptanc letters from colleges far away from Dreyton. It was my only 'out' from the agriculture and my only 'in' toward becoming a functional member of society wnd using my brain for something. Anything.

I woke up with the roosters, as I had most mornings. It wasn't quite light out yet, and I was glad. Getting washed, dressed in work jeans and a blue t-shirt, and being told breakfast was on the fly was a collective experience that went by in a flash, and before I knew it, dad was talking to Sandy at the door.

"Let's come along to the new barn, it's gonna need some repairs and TLC from a willing human before I can trust one of my cows in there."

I watched them walk away, the sun coming up on their right. Mom bumped me to get my attention; she was holding a plate of biscuits and tried to get me to take one.

"Eat up, Sammy, you need the calories."

"Mom, I said I'm not hungry!"

Mom made a face of surprised, judgmental acceptance as she began walking away.

"Oooooo-kay, kiddo, they'll be in the fridge when you gethungry," She began putting them away, and dad and Sandy were now silhouettes in the pasture. "Take it easy on that Sandy, her family's a nice bunch and you're too skinny to let her take advantage of you."

The sentence didn't make sense, but Mom usually didn't when it came to me being near a girl. I huffed and went to check my pre-made barn toolbox that dad asked me to assemble, making a final review in case I had missed anything that Sandy would potentially ask for. It seemed to be no time before Dad came back and pointed to the barn.

"She's all set up, now get it done, partner. Don't be awkward; you're too skinny for us to lose this hand."

"That's what I said!" Mom retorted with excitement.

I left soon enough to let Dad and Mom confirm who needed what money and scheduling a lunch date in town. It was dawn, with that strange blue light and hue splashing over the farm that you can't make a dye for or replicate on a computer. From my view, the sun was peeking up onto the barn, a message of my immediate destiny. I looked down, denying that I would be awkward like Dad said, and probably expected. I kicked at a rock the size of my tor and missed, the sole of my boot grazing the top and forcing my step to stutter. I regained my balance, swung my foot again, and didn't even make contact, my leg going up like a badly-made pendulum. In anger, I picked up the rock and tossed it as far as I could, which was probably 25-30 paces. I regained normal breathing and continued to the barn, sure of something bad.

I walked in, spotting Sandy in there with dad's measurement notebook and back-up calculator. After taking a quick glance at her body, I smiled, set the toolbox down by the wide, disrepaired door, and opened it, pulling a copy of The Iliad from the compartment below the top tray. I closed it, sat on the box, and looked up at Sandy.

"I'll be here if you need anything. Just give me the word."

I looked back down rapidly and hid my eyes in a deep head dip, the ancient text receiving more sensory attention than it deserved.

Sing, O Goddess, the anger of Achilles.

[DangerousDarkEyes]

“Morning Sammy, hope you slept well,” I said with a smile, even though he was back looking in his book.

I had just started taking the measurements of the wide door that needed repairing. I had gotten all of them and wrote them down, although the width of the door was a problem.

“Hey, I could use your help with measuring the rest of this door since it’s so wide. Come here and all you have to do is hold the tape where I show you. I’ll take care of the rest.” I said and was surprised to see him get up quickly and told the tape measure where I had asked him to.

“Good now don’t move and I’ll pull this as long as it can go, then I’ll mark it.” I lightly pulled on the tape measure, pulling it all the way out to 9 feet and made a mark where the tape measure ended.

“Okay, now come stand by this mark,” I said as he walked over, “Yes, right there and I’m going to pull it again.” Which was exactly as I did and came up with a total of 15 feet.

“Thanks for your help, I think the best way to fix this door and keep it from sagging, would be to make two doors 7 and a half feet each and 12 feet high. I see you brought a tool box and that will come in real handy.” I then put the pencil behind my ear and looked over at Sammy again. “Your father says he has a stack of wood near the house along with the saw to cut it. Do you mind showing me where that would be?”

I could tell by his expressions, he really wasn’t to happy I was asking him for so much, but I was determined to loosen him up while I was here. I really thought he had a lot of potential if he could get over his shyness with people, especially woman.

[TheLongRider]

I did as she said without delay or inaction, mostly out of my fear of actually having to say something back. She treated every chore like I was a helpless gopher; I would have gotten mad but I knew that my lack of communication made me seem isolated, and she had no other recourse but to baby me through the door measurements the way she did. Deep down, I don't think I minded; I liked how she came across as so knowledgeable and aboe to handle the barn. She seemed fearless and above the disrepair of the structure; I saw her differently then.

That didn't stop me from seeing the shapes her body made when she wasn't looking as she continued to find the right numbers and marks. I decided I should probably stop. I looked at her thighs and stopped. Then I looked at her stomach and really stopped. I let my eyes wander to her breasts, lingered a few moments, and then darted my eyes away when she furned toward me. Sooner or later, she was going to catch me and I would be revealed as a nobody. Maybe.

Then she asked about the new lumber next to the house and if I'd take her to it. In some mental connection, probably leftover from school, I answered with an uncomfortable immediacy.

"Sure thing, Sandra. Sandy. I mean-" I stopped and looked to the barn door, then back at her. "Sandy. Yeah. It's by the cellar door." I nodded outside and began walking away, hoping she wouldn't catch up.

But she did. And she kept talking about the door assembly and what we needed to do. I let the sounds in, but I wasn't processing it. I only thought about getting to the wood as fast as possible.

But ehy?

Why was I so scared to talk to her? What was my hang-up? She was just a person, mostly just like my Dad. Except I didn't check my Dad out as often as I di her; in fact, for the record, I have never checked out my Dad, nor intended to. She was just a sweet girl who was doing some work and had to work with an inconsiderate, shy anti-socialite like me to get paid. Again, Sandy, not my Dad.

I swallowed hard as she de ided what we needed and, with some great effort, I helped haul back a third of it. Sandy took the other 2/3rds after I proved incapable, and I felt horrible. I couldn't even carry my worth in boards. It was endless. As she began setting up the sawhorses to make the cuts, I spoke up, opening with a squeak that could barely be considered a syllable.

"Sy-orry. I don't talk much. I'm not a very good helper, or very good company, am I?"

[DangerousDarkEyes]

“Oh don’t beat yourself up, Sammy. You’ve helped me a lot so far and I couldn’t have done it without you.” I said, trying to lift his spirits so he wouldn’t berate himself. Although it was true, he was a helper and I had a good idea that all he needed was some confidence to build his self esteem. I had a good idea that he just was allowed to hide himself in a book and not have to deal with the world, which now showed he was having a hard time adjusting to even helping me.

“You don’t have to talk a lot around me, besides I’m not much of a talker when I’m working, other than to giving orders. I’m sorry if that’s how they come off, but it’s really the only way I know to tell someone what kind of help I need.” I said with a smile as I grabbed the first board I was to cut.

“If you keep helping me, I guarantee you’ll make your dad and me real proud of you. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to. But, right now I need you to just stand at the other end of where I’m cutting and let me slide the board towards you. All you have to do is keep it level for me. And don’t worry, when I’m through cutting it, it will automatically fall, but that’s okay. Now let’s get to work partner, we’ve got some serious cutting to do.”

I said and was actually very glad to have his help and to have someone I could talk to if I needed to. I just hoped that as we worked together, he would get more comfortable around me and perhaps say a few words here and there. I don’t know what it was about him, but I really felt drawn to him, and I didn’t feel sorry for him. His parents should have insisted he be around people a little more, keeping his nose out of his books for at least awhile. I intended to have him help me all day, as long as he was willing.

“How about after we get these boards all cut, we take a break and have some lunch. I brought plenty of sandwiches and chips for the both of us.”