Chapter 12 - The Apology Ray Couldn’t Make Easily
Ray came to the Callaway farm in February.
No lawyer.
No truck full of men.
Just Ray.
James was repairing rabbit guards when he approached.
“Your dad around?”
“In town.”
Ray nodded.
He looked at the trees.
“They held up better than I thought.”
James waited.
Ray hated silence.
Eventually he said:
“County says I have to put in a new grassed waterway before spring planting.”
“I heard.”
“Costs a fortune.”
James still waited.
Ray kicked at the soil.
“My boy says I owe you an apology.”
“Eli?”
“He’s developed opinions.”
James almost smiled.
Ray did not.
“I shouldn’t have mocked you.”
That was as close as he could get at first.
James nodded.
Then Ray added:
“And I shouldn’t have added that second line without talking to your dad.”
Closer.
“Did you know it would drain onto us?”
Ray stared across the western slope.
“I knew it might push more water your direction.”
“Then why do it?”
“My lower field stayed wet too long. I lost planting days. I had loans.”
James nearly laughed at the repetition.
Loans.
Weather.
Pressure.
Every adult explanation eventually arrived there.
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No.”
Ray finally looked at him.
“No, it doesn’t.”
James accepted that.
Not forgiveness.
Fact.
Then Ray asked:
“What would you plant on my west slope?”
James blinked.
“What?”
“If a man wanted to stop losing half his dirt every thunderstorm.”
“You’re asking me?”
“Don’t enjoy it too much.”
James did.
A little.
He recommended native grass first, not trees everywhere.
Ray frowned.
“I thought you were the tree kid.”
“Trees aren’t the answer to everything.”
Ray laughed once.
“Don’t tell the county that. They’ve built you into a religion.”
James hated how accurate that felt.
By spring, Ray installed a grassed waterway and narrower windbreak with technical assistance from the conservation district.
He did not copy James’s farm.
He fixed his own.
That mattered.
Thomas watched the work from across the road.
“Never thought I’d see Ray Hensley planting trees.”
James shrugged.
“Trees don’t make money.”
May you like
Thomas laughed so hard he had to lean against the fence.
It was the first time the sentence stopped hurting.
