Page 10 of Ginjuh

Chewing at my lip, I gazed over his shoulder at the paper a little longer.

“Yeah.” I nodded resolutely. “I mean, it’ll be work, but if we get it marked quickly in the fields, between two people using scythes to cut the stalks down close to the ground, the tractor and Brush Hog should be able to run through fairly quickly to make sure no one is stumbling over stumps.”

Grandpa chuckled. Yeah. People tripping and falling—if only in theory—is pretty funny.

“You up to it?”

“Aren’t I always?” I held my head up with faux arrogance.

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” He chided me playfully. “By Sunday night you’re going to feel like you’ve been rode hard and put away wet, Zach.”

“I can imagine.” I laughed. “Where’s the, uh, well, whoever you hired to help us do this, Grandpa?”

“I ‘spect he’ll be here any time.” Grandpa sucked as his teeth and spat, a very ‘old country man’ behavior. “Now, you listen here, Zach…”

I turned to him.

“…you’re in charge here.” He continued. “I done hired this kid because he’s a friend of a friend’s kid and needs the extra cash and some discipline. All right? Don’t let him dick around out here and not earn his pay. But, well, also, be kind to him, Zach. Teach him what you know.”

“I’m never mean, Grandpa.”

“Well,” he laid a hand on my shoulder, “I know you ain’t. Just reminding you, son. You’re a good boy. Well, young man, I guess now, huh? But you know your way around this farm so don’t let this kid get away with any nonsense, ya’ hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Grandpa patted my shoulder.

“Kid?” I cringed. “How old is this guy?”

“Well,” Grandpa chuckled, “’bout your age, I think. Sorry for calling him a ‘kid’.”

I laughed.

“It’s all right, Grandpa.”

“Don’t mean nothin’ by it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Grandpa cleared his throat again, patted my shoulder and handed the paper over to me. I took it from him and gave it another glance before stuffing it into my pocket.

“I guess you know where everything is. Tools wise, I mean.” He said. “I got you plenty of spray paint out there in the shed, you know where the Surveyor is…I don’t think you’ll need anything longer than the two-hundred-foot one, but if you need anything else, I’ll run into town right quick. You just let me know.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Otherwise, I’ll mind my business and let you boys get things marked off for tomorrow.”

“I think that’ll work, Grandpa.”

He gave me another nod as the sound of gravel filled the air. We both turned at the same time to see the car slowly coming down the driveway towards the house. Grandpa cleared his throat and spat off of the porch again. As I raised a hand to shield my eyes from the sun as I looked down the driveway.

“Well,” Grandpa sighed, “I guess that’s probably him.”

Together, we watched as the black car with tinted windows rolled down the driveway slowly, as though afraid to turn up too much dust or kick up too much gravel, then stopped a few yards from the porch. I held my breath as the car stopped but didn’t get shut off. Both doors opened and a man stepped out of the driver’s seat, clad in a suit and tie. Surely, this man was not here to help me map out a corn maze in a suit and tie. However, when the passenger stepped out of the car, I realized my help was even worse than a man in a suit. Austin Mankins slid out of the car to stand beside the open door, looking out towards the field, that indifferent and utterly bored expression on his face. I had to keep myself from turning towards my grandpa and groaning loudly.

It was one thing to defend Austin Mankins to my best friend because Jay provoked and teased him for no reason. However, having to work side-by-side with him on weekends was a reason to be upset. My grandpa had done what he had done, though, hired Austin Mankins to come help out on his farm, and there was nothing I could do to change his mind. One thing I knew about Grandpa—while he respected me as a fellow human being, trusted me to do the work he wanted done—he called the shots on his farm. What he wanted done and by whom was totally up to him. Even if I had been bratty enough to turn to him and groan, he probably would have slapped the sass right out of my mouth. Well, figuratively. I’d never known him to be a violent man.

“Mr. Pelton!” The man, presumably Austin’s father, smiled up at the porch, his eyes hidden by stylish sunglasses. “I thought I had the wrong place at first.”