Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Good to hear.” From the sound of it, they each had their place, and it was all hands on deck. And I liked that idea, even though I’d promised myself I’d be free as a bird as soon as I was discharged from service. The thing was, I had my place among the men in my platoon too. As a team lead, my specialty was disarming explosives, and it made me feel not only essential, but productive. And damned good. Those feelings were lacking for me lately. I felt aimless and on edge, so it somehow rooted me to hear more about how the farm was run.
As the one explosive I never had the opportunity to disarm skirted the edges of my memories, and before the sounds and smells could become too vivid in my mind’s eye, I forced my feet to move to the gate of the enclosure and step inside.
“And the chickens?” I asked Kerry, wondering who was in charge of them while also detecting the machine resting on the hay with what looked like pumping devices on the ends.
“Eh, they’re pretty low-maintenance, so whoever gets to them first.”
“Sounds about right,” I replied, absently thinking about how we’d draw straws in the barracks to decide who would clean the common area after a rare night of cards or some stupid game Smithy had made up. I blinked to clear my thoughts. Don’t go there.
Thankfully, Kerry stood right then, distracting me.
“You okay?” he asked, studying me.
Fuck, I did not want him to think I was some sort of head case. They’d send me packing back to the city in one second flat.
“Still waking up.”
He reached for the machine I’d been wondering about. “Thought you’d be used to this kind of schedule,” he said with a small grin.
“Guess I’ve gotten a bit soft around the edges.” On cue, a yawn came on, and as I rolled my neck and stretched, I could feel my shirt riding up my stomach. I self-consciously tugged it down but could feel his gaze on me. I was still in good shape, but I had nothing on Kerry with his broad shoulders and muscled arms, no doubt from good old farm labor. “Need the discipline again.”
“Doubt that.” When my gaze met his, I noted how rosy his cheeks had grown, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of the conversation or exertion. “But give the farm a couple more days, and you’ll fall back into a schedule.”
“I could see that.” I watched as he attached the pump from the device to the cow’s udders. “Does that machine milk the cows?” I leaned closer, fascinated. “You don’t do it by hand? Sorry, I totally sound like I’m from the city.”
Kerry grinned. “Bet you saw all sorts of animals in the desert.”
“Definitely. The villagers had farms in the less arid regions. Grew mostly wheat and cotton, but a bunch of other stuff as well.”
The Afghani children would trail our vehicles, shouting at us as we passed through the square. One adorable boy named Arash was especially persistent, trying to sell us any number of their wares, which included fruit, vegetables, and freshly baked Afghani bread, called noni, which was sort of flat and round, and damn, I could taste the buttery dough in my mouth right then.
Arash had stopped us that day, in fact. The day everything changed. The sky was cloudless, the temperature was climbing, and…and… I blinked the stinging sensation from my eyes. Don’t go there. Do not go there.
“I figured.” Kerry’s voice boomed in my ears, snapping me to attention. He stepped back to let the machine do its thing, and our shoulders momentarily brushed, making my skin feel strange and tingly. Suppose it’d been awhile since I was in such close quarters with someone again. He motioned to the device now, providing the interference my thoughts needed. “Some smaller dairy farms still milk by hand, but by now, it’s probably rare. This is way more efficient, and we can do a few at a time. And of course, there are much larger operations, where they can pretty much hook the whole herd up at once.”
When the cow’s tail whipped in our direction and her stance shifted, I wondered if she was uncomfortable. “Does it hurt them?”
“No,” he said adamantly, as if he wouldn’t dare consider doing anything that might injure his animals, and I wondered if I’d offended him with the question. I opened my mouth to say as much, but then he reached over to pat the cow like he’d done earlier. “Maisy’s teats are extra sensitive, so using a soothing lotion on them afterward helps her feel more comfortable.”
The expression on his face was one of warm regard or maybe respect.
“She’s an ornery one, though, and she’ll let me know if I’ve made a misstep.” He spun to reach for a paper bag from the corner of the stall. From the looks of it, it contained some apples and leafy greens. “And you never want to overlook her special treat after she’s finished her job.”