Page 14 of Bales and Brawn

“And do you want to go to San Francisco?”

“Probably not.” He shrugs. “But I’ve never been there, so I don’t know, do I?

“Sacramento is probably best,” I say. San Francisco would swallow up a sweet small-town boy like Nova.

After a few hours, Zane returns, and whilst he still doesn’t say much, he’s lost his earlier black look, which I can now understand. Not that it excuses how he spoke to me, but we can at least talk about work. We’re closing up for the day when Arlene comes out to ask Zane if he’ll go into town for her. I leave them to it and make my way over to my room.

“Oh, Devin,” Arlene calls and I turn back around.

“Would you like to join us tomorrow for family dinner?”

“Oh, yes, please come.” Nova claps his hands together with glee. I ignore Zane’s frown. I’m getting used to it by now, and it could mean anything.

“Yes, please, I’d like that. Thank you.” I resume walking across the yard, a small bloom of gratitude in my chest that Arlene included me. As I pull open the barn door, I can hear Zane talking but only his last words reach me.

“But he’s not family.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

ZANE

“I still can’t believe you said that.” Arlene rolls out pastry for the chicken pot pie she’s making for family dinner.

“But he’s not family,” I protest, the same way I did yesterday, when she told me off then too. I pick up another potato and begin peeling it.

“Yes, but his own family is thousands of miles away.”

“That was his choice,” I say, which earns me a sharp look.

“Well, it was.” I dig in further and Arlene sighs.

“Don’t you think once in a while he might miss it? When do you think he last had a home-cooked meal?”

“I dunno.”

“Exactly. It doesn’t seem right that he’s over there on his own on a Sunday when we’re enjoying family dinner. I’m making it, so I can invite whoever I choose.”

“But this is my house.” As soon as the words are out, I know I’ve overstepped. Arlene is rarely angry, but her eyes flash as she whirls round, the rolling pin still in her hand and pointing towards me.

“Clive might have inherited the farm, but don’t forget, I grew up in this house too. It’s as much my home as well.”

She’s right, of course. It was my great grandfather who bought the farm in the first place, and Grandad who expanded it. Arlene might have moved out when she married Buck, but it will always be the Dawson family home.

“What happened to you? You used to be such a sweet child?” She lowers the rolling pin and returns to her work, and there’s a wistful tone in her voice. My childhood ended the day Nova was born and it was just me and Dad. He dealt with his grief by throwing himself into the farm, and I looked after Nova. And now I look after the farm and my family. It’s what I do. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to require an answer, and I finish up the potatoes. I still have a couple of hours before dinner, so I walk over to the barn, to the saddle room, and check over the horse’s tack ready for next week. As I work, I hum “A Coat of Many Colours,” a song my mom used to sing to me as a lullaby. It still brings me comfort.

“Did you know Devin’s brother is famous?” Nova says over dinner.

“I wouldn’t call him famous.” Devin wrinkles his nose slightly, which should look odd on a guy with a full black beard but is strangely endearing. I look away quickly.

“But he has over five hundred thousand followers on his Instagram and nearly as many on his YouTube channel,” Nova says with awe in his voice.

“What does he do?” Dad asks.

“Godwin is an archeologist. When he was in college, he started doing small videos of interesting artifacts or buildings. Finding hidden gems in places people pass every day. It just grew from there.”

“But he’s been on TV, so he’s definitely famous,” Nova adds.

“He’s been a specialist on a few history programs, though there is also talk of him presenting his own show next year.”