The Road to Love

“Crank it again. I have to do this myself.”

But nothing changed. The minute she tried to ease the tractor forward, actually make it do the work it was created for, the engine stalled.

This was getting her nowhere. The wide field seemed to expand before her eyes, and blur as if viewed through isinglass. She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes to clear her vision and jumped down. “Fine. See if it will run for you.”

He started the temperamental piece of metal, climbed behind the wheel, eased it into gear and moved away.

She wanted to run after him and demand to drive the tractor, demand the tractor cooperate with her. Instead she stared after him. One, two, three…only when she gasped ten, did she realize she’d been holding her breath waiting for the beast to respond to Hatcher as it did to her.

It didn’t. It bumped along the field as defiant as a naughty child.

At least Hatcher had the courtesy not to look back and wave.

He made fifty yards before he stopped, climbed down and plodded back to her. “I’ve got some spare time. I’ll work until noon. By then I’ll have all the kinks worked out of the engine.”

Kate wanted to protest even though she was relieved to have a few more hours unchallenged by her stubborn tractor. She swallowed her pride. “Thank you.”

He turned back and she hurried across the field to the house. He deserved some kind of compensation for doing this. She’d make cookies and biscuits to give him for his journey.

When noon came, she carried sandwiches and hot tea to the field and handed him the bundle she’d made of cookies and biscuits.

“What’s this?” he asked.

She explained.

At first she thought he’d refuse, then he took the bundle.

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

She’d been dreading it all morning but it was time to take over the tractor. She had no choice if she were to get the field prepared for seeding. And then what? But all morning she’d thrown up a barrier at the question, refusing to deal with the obvious answer—as soon as the field was worked she’d have to seed it and then—no, she wouldn’t think that far ahead.

She climbed behind the wheel. The machine had run all morning. She’d glanced that direction often enough to assure herself of the fact. Hatcher had jumped down a few times and made some sort of adjustment then continued on.

But again, it stalled as soon as she tried to drive it. “Why can’t I make it work?” she yelled.

He shrugged. “I’ll finish out the day.”

“Great,” she muttered. She should be grateful and she was. But she was also on the edge of desperation. If he worked all day he wouldn’t finish even one field. Then he’d be on his way. And she’d be stuck with the beast. And two more fields that needed working. Suddenly marrying Doyle seemed like the most sensible thing in the world.

All afternoon, she considered her options. Marry Doyle and sell the farm. An easy way out, yet not one she was willing to take. Rent out the farm. But renting it out would mean they’d have to move. No man would want the farm without the house. No. There had to be a way she could make this work. If only the tractor would run for her as readily as it did for Hatcher Jones.

She had one option left. Somehow, she had to convince the man to stay. At least until she got the crop in.

She had hot water ready for him to wash in when he came in from the field. “Supper is waiting.” She used her purchased tin of meat—a spicy loaf—mixed it with rice and tomatoes and spices. She’d made bread pudding for dessert, adding a generous handful of raisins. Not the best of fare but she’d done what she could with her meager supplies.

She waited until the children ate then took tea out to Hatcher. It stuck in her throat to beg, but she’d made up her mind.

“Mr. Jones, is there any way I can persuade you to stay around to put the crop in for me? I wouldn’t be able to pay you much. But I could let you live in the settler’s shanty on the other quarter.”

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