He relaxed his grip and the wheel pulled to the right. A spray of gravel from the shoulder of the road peppered the undercarriage, adding to the clamor of rattles and bangs the old truck already possessed. John steered back onto the macadam and cursed aloud at the road ahead.

It was an hour's drive to the next township where the buyer his mother had made the deal with waited for delivery. John had argued but lost in the face of the facts his mother presented. They were broke and they needed money.

He remembered when the farm was a clean, going concern. It provided a modest income for the three of them and even managed a tiny profit from local sales of dairy and produce. Then his Pa died suddenly and they found out that he was in debt all over town for feed, supplies and even some of the utilities. John's Mom did the best she could, selling off all but two cows and several hens, a mangy rooster, most of their implements and now the truck.

Without money, she'd said, there would be no feed and without the feed there would be no animals and without the animals, she and John would likely starve. They thought of selling the small farm but where would they go? John's mom was getting too old and tired to start tracking all over the countryside looking for a place they could afford; besides, the farm wasn't worth much anyway.

The soil was dead; there was no water, except what a grumpy old well provided and the sky when it had a mind to rain. Still, John felt that without the truck they would be much worse off. How would they get supplies? How would they go anywhere? The buses only passed by twice a day in each direction and if you missed one . . . well.

The sun was setting behind him and the sky ahead became a velvet backdrop for the glow from Wisher's Waterhole, a bar cum diner that attracted mostly farmers, truckers and lost souls. John heard his stomach rumble and he chewed his lip as he considered the five dollars his mom had provided for extra gas and a bus ticket home.

He checked the gauge, calculating how far he'd come, how far he had to go and how much gas was left. The glow in the sky brightened and John could see the silhouette of the building beneath the gaudy lights. He made up his mind. He'd push the truck the last few miles if he had to; right now he was going to treat himself to a pitcher of beer.

*****

Burt Wisher gave John's shoulder a rough shake and yelled into his ear. "C'mon there John, Irene and I are closin' up. It's late."

John shook himself awake and gazed around blankly. His head throbbed just over his left eye and his mouth felt stiff and dry. "Wha- what's goin' on?"

"It's what's goin' off, John. The lights, that's what. Were closin' for the night. You gotta git."

"Huh? How long- where's my keys?" He swept his hand across the empty table.

"Your friend took 'em.

"What friend?" John sat up rubbing his eyes into focus.

"The guy you traded your truck to. Geez, John, you musta really had a lot to drink." Burt took him by the arm and started dragging him up from the table.

"Traded- what?"

Getting annoyed, Bert stood him against the wall and held him by the shoulders. "Listen. You started drinkin' with this guy and pretty soon both of you were up to your gills in beer. He gave you that envelope that's stickin' outta your pocket and you gave him the keys to your truck."

John fumbled the envelope out of his pocket as Bert hustled him across the room and out the door. He just had time to read the word deed at the top of the page before the Waterhole's lights went out. The night was pitch black with barely a visible star and John suddenly felt very frightened and very sick.

*****

The school bus driver stood aside as the children clambered aboard scrambling for their favourite seats. Next to the bus anxious mothers waved as the children's faces appeared and pressed against the windows.

"Oh god! Look at Justin. He's already got his tongue on the glass. Justin! Stop that!"

"I'll tell him, Auntie Dee." Penny grinned at her mother, kissed her goodbye and jumped onto the bus. A moment later the mothers saw her organizing her charges and wave that all was well. The driver was going over his schedule with the teacher and managed an assuring wave to the mothers as they all filed back onto the sidewalk next to the drive.

"Imagine Karen, we have the whole afternoon free."

"I can't. It doesn't seem possible. Anytime that group goes off together something happens."

"Well not much can happen this time I don't think. They're chaperoned and all they're doing is visiting a local farm. Let's take advantage and hit the mall."

"You're on." They waited until the bus rumbled out of the parking lot, waving energetically to the gaggle of kids at the windows then hit the road for their car and the mall.

"I bet they're going shopping," Heddy said, watching her mother and aunt running to the car.

"Can we ride horses at this place?"

"It's not a zoo, Justin, it's a farm. We're just taking a tour of a farm." Penny poked a finger under his arm and made him giggle.

"So what will we see?"

"Animals, Dill, that's what's on a farm." Heddy gave her sister an eye roll and turned to look out the window.

At the front of the bus, Miss Huddie, the teacher, called for attention and explained the rules she expected everyone to follow when they arrived. "We will all stay together in a group and do exactly as the farmer tells us. Any questions?" A forest of tiny arms shot into the air, waving as if in some gale.

"Oh dear. One at a time children, starting with the front row please."

"The front row always goes first," Dillard grumbled.

"What do you want to ask?"

"Will there be anything to eat?"

Penny groaned and glared at her sister. "That was your question wasn't it Heddy?"

Was not."

Was too, and the answer to your question, Dill, is no. You had lunch before we left."

"See Heddy, I told you."

"Dillard!"

"I knew it was you, Heddy."

"Was not."

Miss Huddie called for attention again and began sharing the answers to the questions she'd been fielding. Standing in the aisle, she jerked and swayed with the motion of the bus while she ran down her list of questions. The children listened with half an ear, watching the rough countryside flow past the windows.

*****

The school bus turned off the highway and rocked up the rutted drive toward the ramshackle farmhouse. Miss Huddie gazed forlornly out the window at the run down appearance of the place and she turned to the driver with a look of questioning disappointment.

"This is where we are going?"

"Yup. This is the place the board settled on." The driver wrenched the wheel to keep the truck out of a deep gouge in the track.

"I don't think I like the look of this."

"Well we can go back if you like, makes no difference to me." He steered the bus in wide arc bringing it full circle and stopped, facing back down the drive.

"I guess I should at least speak to the owner before I decide." She turned to the children and told them all to stay put while she introduced herself to the farmer.

The doors hissed open and Miss Huddie climbed down, straightening her floppy hat and stepping carefully across the scruffy, arid ground. A screen door banged shut and a tired looking woman leaned against a pillar on the drooping porch.

"Hello." Miss Huddie called. "Are you," she consulted her clipboard for a moment. "Are you Mrs. Case?"

The woman adjusted her apron and swept a strand of hair away from her face. "That's Cassay. It's pronounced Cassay." She came down the few steps and walked toward Miss Huddie. "You from the school? Course you are, how silly of me. You got a great big school bus right behind you."

"Yes. Yes we are. We uh- we were supposed to be having a tour of a- a farm?"

"Sure. Why don't you fetch the children and I'll give them a show 'round. By the way, I didn't catch your name."

"Uh- it's Huddie, Charlotte Huddie."

"Welcome Charlotte. Call me Alma." She stuck out a calloused hand and pinched Charlotte's soft fingers firmly. "Bring 'em on then, dear."

Stumbling around the broken pens, constantly alert for animal droppings, Charlotte was mortified. The farm was a wreck. It boasted two scrawny milk cows that stood with the ultimate in bored expressions while Alma demonstrated the technique of milking. Unfortunately, none was forthcoming as explained by their lack of feed that day.

Next was a crumbling hen house with several residents that scooted away when Alma produced eggs from their nests; eggs which she had planted earlier. A tethered goat took neck-jarring runs at the children as they passed, indicating that it was not part of the tour, and a pair of cautious cats slipped under the porch before any little fingers could get a grasp.

Penny pulled Justin by the arm and he yelped in pain.

"You nearly stepped in that," she said.

"What is it?"

"It's - it's farm stuff, Justin and you don't want it all over your shoes."

"I'm hungry." Heddy traded her sister stare for stare.

"Me too," Dillard added. "I don't think there's much to see here, maybe we'll be leaving soon. Miss Huddie's speaking to the lady."

©lyttlejoe 2002