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before we put her to work,” Pop explained.
    “Good idea, Pop.”
    The screen door banged, and the water started running again. Summer looked questioningly at Steve.
    “That’d be Cary. He works here. Lives out back in the little house across the field,” Steve explained.
    “Boots!” Pop yelled.
    “Gotcha!” came the reply from the mudroom and again the thud, thud.
    Summer looked up from the corn bread she was cutting, to see the man coming through the doorway. She recognized him from last night. He was the man holding the shotgun.
    “Summer, this is Cary. Do you remember him?” Steve asked, wondering if she remembered much from last night.
    “Ma’am.” Cary nodded his head toward her.
    “Yes. Yes, I remember.”
    “Well, go on, sit down. It’s time to eat,” Pop ordered, shooing the men into the dining room. He carried the pot of chili in and set it down on a trivet.
    Summer followed with the plate of cornbread. She noticed the table had already been set.
    Jessie bounded down the stairs and slugged Cary in the arm as he moved toward his seat.
    “Ow. Brat!” he grumbled, shoving her.
    “Knock it off. You two are like children,” grumbled Steve, as he sat at the head of the table.
    Pop sat at the other end. Cary sat on one side, and Jessie and Summer on the other. They all bowed their heads, and Steve said grace.
    When he raised his head, he passed around a pitcher of sweet tea. There was also a mason jar of milk. He picked it up off the table and shook it. Unscrewing the lid, he poured a glass. Looking over at Summer, he smiled and offered, “Gonna try some now?”
    She smiled and nodded, and he filled her glass.
    Everyone passed their bowls down to Pop. He filled them and passed them back. The plate of cornbread made its way around the table.
    “Steve, I checked the south fence line, and that same post is down again,” Cary stated between bites.
    “Damn it. You know why, don’t you? The ground’s too soft there. We’re gonna have to dig a new hole; set it in a different spot,” Steve replied, taking a drink of milk.
    “That’s a bitch. But I agree. I don’t think you have any choice, unless you want the cows out on the county road.”
    “We’ll have to start on it tomorrow, then,” Steve decided, digging into his chili.
    “Oh, and the lines are clogged again on the number four machine.”
    “Great. Got any other good news for me?” Steve asked, a spoon of chili halfway to his mouth.
    “Nope. I think that’s it.” Cary grinned.
    They ate in silence for a while. It didn’t take long for the guys to finish their first bowl and pass them down for refills. Summer watched in amazement at the amount of food the men ate.
    When their bowls were scrapped clean and the huge plate of cornbread was polished off, Steve leaned back in his chair and asked, “So, what’s for dessert, Pop?”
    “Dessert?” Summer asked, “After all you just ate?”
    “There’s ice cream,” Pop replied, not looking up from his own bowl.
    “I’ll get it,” Jessie offered, getting up and clearing dishes.
    Summer got up to help her. When they got to the kitchen, they looked at each other, and both started laughing.
    “Do they really eat that much all the time?” Summer asked, astonished.
    “That and more. This is a light night. Usually, they like roast, and potatoes, and vegetables, and biscuits, and…”
    “I get the idea,” Summer cut her off. “Good Lord, what will I make for dinner tomorrow?”
    “Well, I don’t know, but whatever you make, make a lot!”
    They both laughed.
    After dessert, Jessie went up to her room, Cary went home, and Pop went out on the front porch to smoke his pipe. Steve and Summer sat at the dining room table drinking coffee.
    “You settled in?” Steve asked, leaning back in his chair, his hand idly toying with the handle of his coffee mug.
    “Yes. Thank you,” Summer replied, looking down at her coffee cup.
    “I thought maybe tomorrow afternoon I could take you up the