Even the roof was made of shiny corrugated sheet metal and extended to cover a deep porch that surrounded the house on three sides. The builder had somehow managed to tuck the house, which couldn’t have been more than ten years old yet managed to seem ageless, into a grove of mature hickory trees. Stone walkways completed the picture.
The whole place seemed to have emerged naturally from its surroundings, as if everything had grown there organically. God might have designed the land for these buildings. Certainly, whoever had designed the buildings had done so with the land in mind. To Lily’s thinking, the only thing the place lacked was flowers.
She wouldn’t have planted formal gardens. They would have looked out of place and ruined the natural ambience. Instead she would have added a rosebush here or there, and some hanging pots of flowers, a splash of color to draw the eye. She couldn’t think of another thing that she might have added, especially when she saw the rocking chairs and swing on the porch.
“It’s beautiful, Tate,” she whispered reverently, “just beautiful.”
He tossed her a smile as he guided the truck around a curve in the pebbled drive and toward the back of the house. “Thanks. It’s been a work in progress.” He glanced into the rearview mirror, addressing his daughter. “Pumpkin, will you take Lily and the food into the house? I need to get to the barn.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
“Can I help?” Lily asked.
He brought the truck to a halt in front of the open garage. “Ever feed livestock?”
“No, but I’m willing to learn.”
He turned to look at Isabella in the backseat. “What about you, Buttercup?”
“I’ll show Lily what to do.”
“Okay, then.”
He backed the truck out and headed for the barn. Two minutes later they were walking along a graveled path. Tate closed a gate at the back of the barn then went into a small room just inside the building.
“Open the stall doors. We have an automatic feed and water system for the horses that I can activate in here. We’ll have to feed the cattle up front by hand after I drive in the horses.”
Isabella showed Lily how to slide the gates open. They would have to quickly roll them closed again after the horses were inside. Once the automatic feed system started dumping grain into the bins, Tate grabbed a rope and walked out to one of the corrals. Soon hooves thundered through the barn. Isabella hopped up on a post and advised Lily to climb up behind her. Perhaps a dozen different horses swung into six stalls and dropped their noses into feed bins. Isabella plopped down to the straw strewn floor and started whisking the gates closed. Lily followed suit. Tate jogged up, coiling his rope, and helped finish the job.
He slung the rope over one shoulder and returned to the small room at the back of the building, reappearing a few moments later with a laden wheelbarrow. The girls followed him to a pen at the front of the barn. While Isabella and, belatedly, Lily, dumped feed into a bucket, Tate crawled over a fence and dropped a loop over the head of a good-size calf, which he then snugged to a post.
“Sugar, bring me the kit,” he said, running a hand down the calf’s flank to its belly. Isabella picked up a black zippered bag and handed it to Lily, who then carried it over to Tate. “Grab his tail,” he instructed, “but watch those back legs and don’t get yourself kicked.”
“Uh. Okay.”
He glanced up in surprise at Lily then shot his daughter a speaking glance before turning his attention back to the calf. “Pull on his tail. Just stay well back while I doctor him.”
Lily looked at Isabella, who nodded encouragingly, and grabbed hold of the swishing tail, stepping back and leaning away from the animal. It jerked and bawled, but Lily held on, reasoning that if Isabella could manage such a feat then she surely could. Crouching down next to the animal, Tate crooned a steady stream of encouraging words as he
The whole place seemed to have emerged naturally from its surroundings, as if everything had grown there organically. God might have designed the land for these buildings. Certainly, whoever had designed the buildings had done so with the land in mind. To Lily’s thinking, the only thing the place lacked was flowers.
She wouldn’t have planted formal gardens. They would have looked out of place and ruined the natural ambience. Instead she would have added a rosebush here or there, and some hanging pots of flowers, a splash of color to draw the eye. She couldn’t think of another thing that she might have added, especially when she saw the rocking chairs and swing on the porch.
“It’s beautiful, Tate,” she whispered reverently, “just beautiful.”
He tossed her a smile as he guided the truck around a curve in the pebbled drive and toward the back of the house. “Thanks. It’s been a work in progress.” He glanced into the rearview mirror, addressing his daughter. “Pumpkin, will you take Lily and the food into the house? I need to get to the barn.”
“Sure, Daddy.”
“Can I help?” Lily asked.
He brought the truck to a halt in front of the open garage. “Ever feed livestock?”
“No, but I’m willing to learn.”
He turned to look at Isabella in the backseat. “What about you, Buttercup?”
“I’ll show Lily what to do.”
“Okay, then.”
He backed the truck out and headed for the barn. Two minutes later they were walking along a graveled path. Tate closed a gate at the back of the barn then went into a small room just inside the building.
“Open the stall doors. We have an automatic feed and water system for the horses that I can activate in here. We’ll have to feed the cattle up front by hand after I drive in the horses.”
Isabella showed Lily how to slide the gates open. They would have to quickly roll them closed again after the horses were inside. Once the automatic feed system started dumping grain into the bins, Tate grabbed a rope and walked out to one of the corrals. Soon hooves thundered through the barn. Isabella hopped up on a post and advised Lily to climb up behind her. Perhaps a dozen different horses swung into six stalls and dropped their noses into feed bins. Isabella plopped down to the straw strewn floor and started whisking the gates closed. Lily followed suit. Tate jogged up, coiling his rope, and helped finish the job.
He slung the rope over one shoulder and returned to the small room at the back of the building, reappearing a few moments later with a laden wheelbarrow. The girls followed him to a pen at the front of the barn. While Isabella and, belatedly, Lily, dumped feed into a bucket, Tate crawled over a fence and dropped a loop over the head of a good-size calf, which he then snugged to a post.
“Sugar, bring me the kit,” he said, running a hand down the calf’s flank to its belly. Isabella picked up a black zippered bag and handed it to Lily, who then carried it over to Tate. “Grab his tail,” he instructed, “but watch those back legs and don’t get yourself kicked.”
“Uh. Okay.”
He glanced up in surprise at Lily then shot his daughter a speaking glance before turning his attention back to the calf. “Pull on his tail. Just stay well back while I doctor him.”
Lily looked at Isabella, who nodded encouragingly, and grabbed hold of the swishing tail, stepping back and leaning away from the animal. It jerked and bawled, but Lily held on, reasoning that if Isabella could manage such a feat then she surely could. Crouching down next to the animal, Tate crooned a steady stream of encouraging words as he
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