Part 6
“You get to say it anyway,” Cora said. She took the other end of the panel and helped Beth lay it flat. “And I stop the job.”
Beth wiped a rust mark from her palm. “I need more than that.”
Cora nodded toward the kitchen. They had less than an hour before Beth had to leave for work, and Cora would once have used that as a reason to postpone the conversation. She held the door while her sister went inside.
They sat with Wade’s estimate between them. He had priced the accessible timber and described where equipment would travel. Cora looked at the figure, then at the paragraph about access, and let Beth finish reading before she said anything.
“I don’t want to cut this piece,” Beth said. “I wanted you to understand there was something here besides waiting.”
Cora laid the cattle-sale receipt beside the estimate. The smaller herd would need less purchased feed and water, but it would bring in less calf money too. Her garage wages could cover her own shortfalls only if she stopped assigning the same future paycheck to three different things.
Beth used the back of an envelope to write what each of them would receive and what the farm had to keep. Cora gave her the invoices she had been slow to hand over. They put the new water-line bill on top, where it couldn’t disappear into the pile.
For work beyond ordinary repairs, both would approve the full cost before anyone started. If a bill changed, the job stopped until they had both agreed again. In a real emergency, whoever was here could act to protect the animals, but had to tell the other what was happening that day.
“Even if I’m at work,” Beth said.
“I’ll leave the message.”
Beth added a date in September to review the smaller operation before they made winter commitments. If it still couldn’t pay its way, they would discuss leasing more ground out or reducing the herd again. Cora signed below Beth’s notes without adding a promise that neither would be necessary.
“I can’t keep giving every Sunday,” Beth said. “Some weeks I need my own house.”
Cora looked at the line where she had been about to write their names against the weekend chores. She crossed out the assumption and asked which days Beth wanted to offer.
They worked it out slowly enough that Beth had to check the time twice. Then Beth called Wade and told him they weren’t proceeding with the timber sale. She thanked him for coming, listened to his answer, and put his estimate in the farm folder rather than tearing it up.
At the truck, Cora started to ask whether they were all right. Beth had already opened the door and was checking the screen for a message from the store. Beth took the spare gate key from her jeans and laid it in the little tray beneath the dashboard.
“Thank you for coming early,” Cora said.
Beth looked up. “Next Saturday I can help with that gate. If you get the right hinge.”
“I can do the hinge.”
“I know you can.” Beth waited until Cora heard the rest of it.
“I’ll get the part,” Cora said.
After her sister drove away, Cora carried the record folder back to the shed. She reached for Midge’s page, remembered where it had gone, and left the folder open on the bench while she put away the loading gear.
There were eight cows and eight calves left. They still needed hay, and the water supply still needed watching. Cora counted them twice, correcting herself when she began to look for the pale muzzle at the head of the group.
She had trouble with that all week. She would lift the lane chain and wait for Midge, or hear an animal brush the post and turn before she remembered. Nell sent a picture of the calf investigating a water trough, with Midge’s flank filling the edge of the frame; Cora saved it without asking for another.
The deposit cleared, and the scheduled payment reached Beth before the date on Cora’s acknowledgment. Beth sent back a photograph of the roofer’s receipt. Cora put a copy with the farm records and asked whether Beth needed help moving the bed when the room was ready.
The following Saturday was dry too. Cora set the new hinge on the workbench before breakfast and left the gate propped where Beth could reach it. She had taken one paid overtime shift at the garage and booked the next water delivery from the money remaining after Beth’s transfer.
Beth arrived in the old rubber boots with two drinks in a small cooler. She had brought a socket set Cora didn’t recognize. When Cora asked where she’d got it, Beth said the hardware store had been selling tools to other people all this time.
Cora laughed, and Beth grinned down at the latch. Then they worked, one holding the gate’s weight while the other loosened the worn fitting. Without the animals crowding the lane, they could take their time getting it square.
Beth wanted to reset the latch. Cora reached for the drill, certain she could show her why that wouldn’t work, then saw the pencil mark Beth had made on the post. She put the drill where her sister could pick it up.
“Show me,” she said.
Beth held the latch in place and moved the gate through its arc. She had allowed for the slight lean in the old post. Cora watched the gap close, then took the far end when Beth asked her to hold it steady.
They finished before the worst heat. Inside the fence, the cattle had spread through the broken shade, leaving space between them. Cora could hear one calf pulling at the grass while Beth gathered the old screws into her palm.
Beth gave the gate a final try. Cora waited with her hands resting on the top rail while her sister found the catch. The latch dropped into place, and Beth’s boot stayed flat on the ground.