Continuing the story

I don’t want to post it all at once, so every few days seems reasonable. Besides, there’s the part about deciphering my own handwriting. 

***

James Enfield drove his tractor down the rutted dirt track toward his last potato filed. This would be the final plowing for the season. After the planting, there would only be weeding until harvest time, which meant he might have time to get some golf in this summer. Potatoes were easier to raise than sheep, and he looked forward to next week when Dan Outhouse would come and collect the last of the flock. Speaking of which, they should be visible by now.

He slowed the tractor and craned his neck, looking for the last dozen or so ewes and lambs. There was no sign of them in the pasture, which was odd. Even when they were lying down under the trees, he could usually spot them. This time of day, the lambs should have been gamboling as their mothers grazed on the dewy grass before the sun rose high enough to dry it. He stood up to get a better view, the tractor now at a standstill. One of the ewes was down on her side on the far side of the field. Her position didn’t look natural. That was all he needed: to lose some of the flock before the sale was final.

Cursing under his breath, he drove a little farther up the road then shut the tractor off to climb down and see for himself what ailed the ewe. Better to have details for when he called the vet to come check. He patted the pocket on the bib of his overalls to make sure his cell phone was there. He went to the fence, crawled between the slats and headed across the pasture.

The early morning sun cast long shadows from the copse of trees in the middle of the pasture. The small grove provided shade in the summer and slight shelter in the winter. There was also a large shed, open on one side, for shelter from the north wind. The shed was on a slight downhill slope away from the road where the tractor sat waiting for his return. The Enfield’s pastures had gates leading from one field to another, allowing flocks or herds to be moved without risking their escape along the access roads.

As James drew closer to the fallen sheep, he became aware of an unnatural silence. His steps faltered, then he shook off the sudden uneasy feeling and hurried on.

***

A little shorter than I had intended. I got sidetracked by something, and now I have to head off to work at the physiotherapy clinic. I’ll post more tomorrow–my day off.