Her husband had been a friend of Dad’s.
She agreed to rent me enough grazing land for five months.
The cost came to thirteen thousand dollars.
It was money I’d never expected to spend.
But my cattle needed grass.
Then I visited the local agricultural cooperative.
Jeff, the manager, had known me since Little League.
He listened when I asked whether he needed help during the spring.
He didn’t ask why I wasn’t working on Dad’s farm.
I appreciated that.
“Still have your commercial driver’s license?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I need someone to haul fertilizer and help at the feed mill. Twenty-three dollars an hour.”
“When can I start?”
“Monday.”
So a man who’d spent twenty-two years helping operate four hundred acres began hauling fertilizer to other people’s fields.
Every morning, I fed my own cattle before sunrise.
Then I went to work.
