I had risen not long before the sun, moving quietly as the dawns light broke through the sky. I hadn’t woken up this early all summer, and we’d gone long enough without rain that I had forgotten the feeling of the moist earth, dew sitting on the grass as if the past week hadn’t been the driest yet.
We met at 6 am, in the barn, where he asked me to meet him. It was more like a farmers’ break room, really. A map of the property on one wall, a kitchenette on the other, and Tucker in-between, sitting at the long, worn table with a cup of black coffee and his little green notebook.
He saw me standing in the doorway, the barns gaping maw, and I didn’t speak for a long moment, as if I didn’t need to say anything at all. Tucker didn’t seem the type to go through the formalities of greeting your coworker. I was fine with that. As long as he’d tell me what to do, I could live without the small talk.
“Come sit down for a sec,” Tucker said, nodding at the spot across from him.
I did, I sat at that dusty chair, shifting uncomfortably as he showed me the list he’d been working on. Different things that needed to get done on the farm that day. I had a vague idea what most of it meant. Check fencing. Set up traps around the chicken coop. Clean greenhouses. It was a little bit of everything. And I suppose that was his job- everything. There were the people that ran the shop, people that moved the sheep, managed the gardens, but Tucker moved from place to place, the sort of behind-the-scenes groundskeeper who kept the whole thing running. But he was only one man. Young, too. No one under his wing. Which is why he took me on, I suppose. I’ve been working behind the counter in the shop for the past few summers, and holidays where school allows it.
They wanted to move me on to something new- I was too interested in the farm and too dissatisfied with retail to stay much longer. Being chosen by Tucker Weymouth himself felt in some ways like an honor, and others like I was the sacrifice. Independent, bossy, asshole Tucker. He was smart, though- really knew his stuff. And I could match his energy, his need to work side-by-side in silence. I preferred it, really. I’d just have to learn what the hell I was doing. I was horribly nervous, and I had every right to be. I was on trial, judge jury and excecutioner, like he was going to snap at me for some stupid mistake. But I guess I impressed him enough to stay. Or he didn’t care- honestly, my hunch is that his dad made him take someone on. I did my best to stay out of his way, but it was hard when my entire job is to follow him around all day. I threw my bag in the back of his work truck, a white, dented Tacoma, and climbed into the passenger seat. Tucker started the engine.
“I’ll show you what’s up,” he said. I couldn’t tell how he meant that, but I had a feeling he was taking big- I’ll show you how this place really works.