Dirt kicked up behind dad’s truck. I stared straight ahead as we
passed a pasture. The truck bounced over the rivets in the gravel
drive, sending me flying up against the ceiling. Dad had been meaning
to get the seatbelts fixed. It was one of the things on his “To Do”
list. There were a lot of things on dad’s list.
A man in denim overalls and a red plaid shirt waited next to a fence.
He saw dad’s truck approach and waved a hand. Dad put the truck in
gear and turned off the engine.
“I’m Rick Conner, I’m glad you could come out today. We’re running out of meat.”
I got out of the passenger door and met dad on his side. Rick looked
at me, his brow wrinkled and he looked back at dad. I stared at the
“This is my daughter, Bryn Sarver. She’s my assistant.”
Rick laughed. “Assistant?”
“Yup, she helps me out on the field. A man can’t do this by himself.”
Dad unhitched the back of the truck. The lift lowered to the ground
and the doors swung open leading to the cooler. Metal hooks hung from
the ceiling. The refrigeration sent a chill into the already cold air.
A cow mooed in the background and I tried not to look. I hated
looking. Dad returned with a rifle. He tossed me a pair of blood
stained gloves. “Ready Bryn?”
I followed him out to the field.