Read Learning to Spy for Free Online Page A

and say my prayers. Done.
    “I don’t know,” I said. “But I never did think it was out in space. I thought it was a place you went in your spirit. And isn’t your spirit invisible?”
    He put his forehead back on his knees. “It’s all vanity. Meaningless and chasing after the wind.”
    The person at the barn signaled again, and I knew I had to end this scriptural debate, or whatever we were having.
    “Just stop thinking about everything so hard,” I said. “You always think about stuff too much. That’s what drives you crazy. Find something else to do.”
    My words felt harsh to me as I said them, especially with him sitting there under the tree, his head on his knees. But I didn’t know what else to say. Braxton was older than me by five years, and he’d spent way more time studying the Bible and arguing with folks about it than I had. I wasn’t smart that way. I was better at explaining things I could see and feel. Like wire fences and electrified chips and escape plans.
    * * *
    G allatin was already positioned in front of a cow when I reached the barn. On my way to the storage closet, I noticed the hole he’d kicked last night now had a fresh, new board nailed over it. I grabbed another bucket and stool, thinking how I had to make friends, get to know him better. Now that we were here together in the quiet barn, after that weird conversation with my brother and his conversation with his sister, I couldn’t think of how to begin.
    “Were you late to be sure I kept my promise?” he asked as I took my seat.
    “I’m sorry I was late,” I said, gripping a teat.
    My cow bellowed as I massaged her tight, heavy udders. Since we’d upped the milking to accommodate the three missing heifers, they got full fast, and patience was not a cow virtue. She let down rapidly, and I worked in silence until her teats were again soft and doughy. Then I took the heavy pail to the waiting churn. Gallatin was already there pumping.
    “I wasn’t reprimanding you for being late,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep my promise.”
    “I didn’t know it was a promise.” My eyes flicked to his amber ones, but when they met, I looked away again quickly. His eyes always startled me at first. Like Cato’s, they seemed pale from a distance, but up close, they were a clear caramel color that was almost yellow. Occasionally, I could almost swear they reflected the light, but that was impossible.
    “I gave you my word, which is the equivalent,” he said.
    His paddle softly thumped against the sides of the wooden churn, and I couldn’t tell him I knew why he was absent last night. Instead, I pondered his strange appearance, his formal manner of speaking.
    If Cato was his sister that would make him a prince or something, which meant he’d probably gone to one of those fancy private schools. I also considered how he worked with me, very expert-like as if he knew what he was doing. He didn’t need any training in the barn, but his sister was as green as a baby around livestock.
    “How come you know so much about cows?” I asked.
    “I don’t really,” he said. “Which is what’s frustrating to my sister.”
    “You seem to be doing all right to me.”
    “Thank you. Others would say I should be doing more. Or at least I should know more.”
    “How come? I mean, did you work with a vet or something, too?”
    He glanced at me. “That’s right. How long did you work with the veterinarian?”
    “About a year. But just after school and stuff.”
    “I was in college in Arizona studying agriculture and livestock practices.”
    That explained the desert part. “What’s livestock practices?” I asked.
    “I took classes on how to run and operate a dairy farm. Eventually we were to take practical courses, get hands-on experience. But we hadn’t made it that far.”
    “How long were you in Arizona?”
    “Only a year.”
    I nodded. “So you’re about nineteen?”
    “About that.”
    Our eyes met and my stomach