“Yes,” Jasper said, the word short and clipped.
He gestured Jamie closer, and Jamie went up to him, leery of having his head taken off the first time he made a mistake. But Jasper, while he didn’t say much, was calm as he demonstrated how to stand, how to swing the scythe back and forth slowly, how to walk backward while cutting, and how to straddle the thin, green layer of newly cut grass.
He showed Jamie how it all came together by cutting an entire row with the blade, using quick, deft motions. Then he stepped back and handed Jamie the scythe.
“Now you try.”
Jamie cradled the scythe against his forearms and winced as the weight pulled at his shoulder. Jasper corrected Jamie’s stance with surprisingly gentle hands.
“Now swing and let me see.”
Doing his best, Jamie straddled the grass and swung the scythe, stepping back, swinging again, then stepping back again. He thought for sure Jasper would say something about how messy the line of cut grass was, but he nodded.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said. “Be sure and cut the grass all the way around the pit.” Then he pointed up the hill at the dining hall. “There’s a cooler of water at the lodge, so be sure to hydrate. Got it?”
“Yes,” said Jamie. “Yes, sir.”
Jasper started walking up the dirt road toward the parking lot without another word. Which left Jamie on his own in a wide circle of very tall grass. The grass smelled nice, and the air was very fresh and sweet, even though the task seemed overwhelming. How long would it take him? And what was he supposed to do when he was done? Should he report to Jasper, wherever he’d gone, or head back to the barn?
The sun had risen above the trees and the air quickly grew hot as Jamie swung the scythe and stepped back, swung the scythe and stepped back. In short order, he was thirsty. His ribs and shoulder hurt, and as he’d had no dinner the night before and no breakfast that morning, his stomach was growling like a live thing. All he wanted to do was lie down in the shade somewhere, block out the sun with his forearms over his eyes, and think long and hard about how he could get some aspirin.
But he needed to get a move-on with the scythe, needed to get this job done so Leland would know he’d not wasted his time hiring Jamie, wouldn’t regret taking a chance on a drifter. At some point, he would take a break, then work some more, and then it’d be lunchtime. Maybe he’d again get to sit across from Leland, looking all dapper in his crisp snap-button flannel shirt, and this time not throw up after. But between now and then was about a hundred miles of very tall, very tough prairie grass that needed cutting.
So he bent and cut, bent and cut, sweating buckets the whole while, cursing the weight of his new straw hat even as he blessed it for keeping the sun off his face. Not that the little bit of shade beneath the brim of the hat made any difference. The entire area was becoming a banked oven, and he was baking inside of it.
His throat was raw by the time he finished cutting half of the area around the fire pit, and his shoulder was screaming at him, and his ribs were protesting with every other breath he took. He stopped to take a breather, propping his elbow up on the top of the handle of the scythe, and lifted his hat to scrape his hair out of his eyes.
A small breeze whispered around his temples and, deciding it was cooler without the hat, he placed it on a patch of newly cut grass. After a minute of rest, he set his feet the right distance apart, lifted the scythe, and swung it. Somehow he’d misjudged the distance and sliced through his brand new hat, the silver blade of the scythe winking against the crisp, yellow straw like it knew what it was doing.
With a shocked sound escaping him, he dropped the scythe and reached for the pieces, thinking wildly that he could somehow glue them back together. What would Leland say when he found out Jamie had cut his brand new hat in two?
Just as his hands touched the cut straw, his heart began to race, and he felt a cold sweat all over him as the sky above him reeled out of place and he fell backwards. Then all of him went from being cold to being encased in fire, and he lay there, blinking up at the blazing sun, trying to figure out what had just happened.
Had he fallen on the scythe and cut himself? Leland would be mad because he’d have to assign someone to clean up the mess. He might maketsk tsksounds and shake his head and assure everyone else it was okay because Jamie was only a drifter and should have gone through Templeton’s anyway.
It was hard to focus as he pushed up on his elbows, struggling to get to his feet. The ground seemed to move beneath him, and then a man appeared on the edge of the small rise beyond the fire pit. The sun was directly behind him, so the edges of his silhouette blazed like the man was on fire. He came up to Jamie at a fast pace, swearing as he bent down amidst the heat of the grasses baking in the sun.
“Holy Christ, Jamie,” said the man as he swept Jamie up in his arms, holding his face in warm, strong hands.
It was Leland. His eyes were a very grey blue and Jamie focused on them like he could use them to track himself back to a safe place where nothing hurt.
His mouth opened to explain that he’d not been slacking, no, not at all, but that he was hot and tired and very thirsty. No words came out, of course, only a faint sound that wanted to be words only couldn’t be.
Leland was saying something Jamie couldn’t exactly understand, but his body reacted when Leland lifted him up in his arms like he weighed nothing. With strong strides, Leland carried him out of the fire pit and across the road to the dining hall.
He didn’t have to do anything, just lean back, feeling Leland’s arms around his shoulders and beneath his knees, like they’d been connected that way forever somehow. Without fully dismissing these crazy, crazy thoughts, Jamie clasped one of Leland’s hands, his fingers turning white.
In another second, Leland was mounting the steps of the dining hall, the sky spinning around and around as they stepped into the blessedly cool darkness of the porch. Then Leland placed Jamie on one of the wooden benches, and everything became quiet.
“Get me some water and some of those salt tablets,” said Leland to someone who’d just come out of the dining hall. Then he bent close, his hands on Jamie’s shoulders, cupping the back of his neck.
“I’m okay,” said Jamie, whispering.
“No, you’re not, Jamie,” Leland said, scolding, his grey-blue eyes flinted with worry. “What’s going on, Jamie?” he asked, quite gently. “When did you last eat or take a break? What happened to get you in this state?”
What state? He was thirsty, and his head, now that it was still and cool, decided to pound and pound, all out of proportion. Then he was hot all over, then cold, and on the verge of shaking.
“Drink this,” Leland said.
