show you.”
Lessy hesitated a minute more and then shrugged. Rip was absolutely right. The tarp may be where the men slept, but on a day like this it was hardly a private assignation. She stepped beneath the cover of the tent and pulled the sodden rain bonnet from her hair.
“Where are the rest of the men?” she asked.
Rip shrugged. “In the barn, I suppose, cleaning harness.”
Lessy nodded. It seemed a likely occupation on such a day. “Why aren’t you helping?”
“I will if they ask me,” he said. “But if they don’t notice that I’m not there, I’m not about to point it out.”
“You’d rather sit out here and do nothing?” Her expression was incredulous.
“I’m doing something.”
“What are you doing?”
“Drawing.”
“Drawing? Pictures? Oh, let me see!” There was enthusiasm in her voice as she hurriedly seated herself beside him.
Rip seemed amused at her excitement and a little apologetically handed her the paper he was working on. Lessy stared at it curiously. The pen and ink drawing was all circles and perfectly straight lines. She couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be. Biting her lip nervously and glancing at him under lowered lids, she turned the picture upside down, hoping the image would reveal itself. It did not.
“It’s lovely,” she said politely.
Rip laughed out loud and leaned over to squeeze her shoulders. “Lovely? Well, ma’am, you must really have farming in your blood to see a side-loading packer binder and think it lovely.”
“A side-loading packer binder?”
Her expression was so dumbstruck, Rip squeezed her shoulders again. “Yes, Miss Lovely Lessy. This is my latest design. I’ve been working on it all summer. Hope by fall to sell it to one of the farm implement companies, McCormick or Ralston maybe.”
“You design farm implements?”
Rip nodded. “Indeed I do.” He pulled a tablet wrapped in sealskin from his grip. “I’ve designed machines that will do everything on a farm but kiss the babies.”
“Let me see.”
He did, showing her page after page of neat, intricate mechanical drawings.
“If what you really do is design farm equipment, why are you working on a hay crew?”
Rip shrugged. “I design equipment,” he said. “You only make money if you sell your designs.”
“But you said McCormick or Ralston—”
Rip shook his head. “I’m dreaming,” he admitted. ‘They have more engineers and draftsmen in those companies than ticks on a blue hound. They aren’t very likely to buy something from outside when they can get it from their own people for free.”
“But you keep trying.”
“Can’t stop,” he said. “Once you start a thing, it kind of gets in your blood and you can’t get away from it. It doesn’t seem to matter what the truth is or if it’s the right thing to do. Once you’ve invested a goodly amount of time on something, it seems you just can’t quit it. It’s funny really.”
Lessy didn’t think it was a bit funny. That was exactly what she had done with Vass. She’d decided that she wanted to marry him, and she’d pursued him obstinately. Now she was only weeks away from the wedding, and she was wondering if their perfect matchup was full of corn borers.
“If I had a lick of sense,” Rip was saying, “I’d quit this nonsense and find me a real job.”
“No, not that,” Lessy told him. “If you had a lick of sense you’d go into business for yourself.”
Rip laughed humorlessly. “Me and whose bank?”
“You don’t need a bank, you just need some farmers with a little money to invest. And there is no better place to find those than right here. We’ve had three good harvests in a row. Folks here about are looking for a good place to put what’s stuffed in the mattress.”
“Nobody around here even knows me.”
‘They don’t have to know you, just your designs. I’m no engineer, but some of the farmers around here know a lot about equipment. If it’s really
Lessy hesitated a minute more and then shrugged. Rip was absolutely right. The tarp may be where the men slept, but on a day like this it was hardly a private assignation. She stepped beneath the cover of the tent and pulled the sodden rain bonnet from her hair.
“Where are the rest of the men?” she asked.
Rip shrugged. “In the barn, I suppose, cleaning harness.”
Lessy nodded. It seemed a likely occupation on such a day. “Why aren’t you helping?”
“I will if they ask me,” he said. “But if they don’t notice that I’m not there, I’m not about to point it out.”
“You’d rather sit out here and do nothing?” Her expression was incredulous.
“I’m doing something.”
“What are you doing?”
“Drawing.”
“Drawing? Pictures? Oh, let me see!” There was enthusiasm in her voice as she hurriedly seated herself beside him.
Rip seemed amused at her excitement and a little apologetically handed her the paper he was working on. Lessy stared at it curiously. The pen and ink drawing was all circles and perfectly straight lines. She couldn’t quite make out what it was supposed to be. Biting her lip nervously and glancing at him under lowered lids, she turned the picture upside down, hoping the image would reveal itself. It did not.
“It’s lovely,” she said politely.
Rip laughed out loud and leaned over to squeeze her shoulders. “Lovely? Well, ma’am, you must really have farming in your blood to see a side-loading packer binder and think it lovely.”
“A side-loading packer binder?”
Her expression was so dumbstruck, Rip squeezed her shoulders again. “Yes, Miss Lovely Lessy. This is my latest design. I’ve been working on it all summer. Hope by fall to sell it to one of the farm implement companies, McCormick or Ralston maybe.”
“You design farm implements?”
Rip nodded. “Indeed I do.” He pulled a tablet wrapped in sealskin from his grip. “I’ve designed machines that will do everything on a farm but kiss the babies.”
“Let me see.”
He did, showing her page after page of neat, intricate mechanical drawings.
“If what you really do is design farm equipment, why are you working on a hay crew?”
Rip shrugged. “I design equipment,” he said. “You only make money if you sell your designs.”
“But you said McCormick or Ralston—”
Rip shook his head. “I’m dreaming,” he admitted. ‘They have more engineers and draftsmen in those companies than ticks on a blue hound. They aren’t very likely to buy something from outside when they can get it from their own people for free.”
“But you keep trying.”
“Can’t stop,” he said. “Once you start a thing, it kind of gets in your blood and you can’t get away from it. It doesn’t seem to matter what the truth is or if it’s the right thing to do. Once you’ve invested a goodly amount of time on something, it seems you just can’t quit it. It’s funny really.”
Lessy didn’t think it was a bit funny. That was exactly what she had done with Vass. She’d decided that she wanted to marry him, and she’d pursued him obstinately. Now she was only weeks away from the wedding, and she was wondering if their perfect matchup was full of corn borers.
“If I had a lick of sense,” Rip was saying, “I’d quit this nonsense and find me a real job.”
“No, not that,” Lessy told him. “If you had a lick of sense you’d go into business for yourself.”
Rip laughed humorlessly. “Me and whose bank?”
“You don’t need a bank, you just need some farmers with a little money to invest. And there is no better place to find those than right here. We’ve had three good harvests in a row. Folks here about are looking for a good place to put what’s stuffed in the mattress.”
“Nobody around here even knows me.”
‘They don’t have to know you, just your designs. I’m no engineer, but some of the farmers around here know a lot about equipment. If it’s really
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