Farm Fresh

By Catlin Jane Odell

Farm Fresh is a modern love story about two women brought together through their chosen professions. They encounter more than their share of obstacles impeding the development of any kind of relationship, but their paths are destined to cross time and again through storms of all descriptions.

Carol is a competent successful farmer following in her father's footsteps. She is also recovering from the recent loss of her lover and life partner from a tragic untimely accident. She consistently works herself to the state of physical collapse almost every day since her beloved Ann died 5 years ago. Can she allow herself to start a new relationship and overcome her tragic loss, maybe even to love again?

Denise is a dedicated natural resources employee in a new office and new state who revels in her philosophy and responsibility of working for the farmers and ranchers of her district. She takes her responsibility to provide sound conservation advice to local farmers and ranchers very seriously. Denise is excited about this new start and moving much closer to home. When she is directed to a local farmer about a rental house, she finds something she just might be interested in, but this also leads to a tangled web and roller coaster ride of emotions.

Watch this story unfold as the paths of these two dedicated women cross in real life settings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catlin Jane Odell
• Release date: Sep 25, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301117963

Catlin Jane Odell

Catlin lives on a North Central Texas Farm with her partner of 18 years. She is a college graduate with degrees in Agriculture; and she loves motorcycling, shooting sports, reading good novels, occasionally traveling, and writing. Her barnyard contains a menagerie of creatures, large and small.

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Farm Fresh

By Catlin Jane Odell

Copyright 2012 by Catlin Jane Odell

Smashwords Edition

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Author's Note:

This Book is fiction. The characters represented in this work are fictional and conjured totally from the author’s imagination. Areas of geography, and certain locales and establishments represented may exist; however, many do not and are fictional. It is my hope, that this book provides entertaining reading.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Early To Rise

Chapter 2 - Moving Again

Chapter 3 - Old Questions, New Answers

Chapter 4 - A New Beginning

Chapter 5 - Moving In

Chapter 6 - New Acquaintances, Old Ghosts

Chapter 7 - Sunday Obligations

Chapter 8 - New Office, New Staff

Chapter 9 - Old Friends, New Mistakes

Chapter 10 - Early Morning Misery

Chapter 11 - Ghost Buster

Chapter 12 - All In A Day’s Work

Chapter 13 - Raging Storms

Chapter 14 - Family Ties

Chapter 15 - North Bound and Down

Chapter 16 - Holiday Trials

Chapter 17 - Political Conservation

Chapter 18 - Accidental Ghosts

Chapter 19 - Recovery Blues

Chapter 20 - Sweet Victories

About The Author

Other Books From Catlin Jane Odell at Smashwords

Chapter 1 - Early To Rise

Carol Rielly inched her five foot nine frame out of bed slowly. The stiffness of her joints and muscles belied her body of just forty three years. She felt eighty this morning and the knees and shoulders just did not want to work; they felt like they need a good grease job. Some parts just wake up quicker than others do these days. First stop, the bathroom, to relieve the pressure on her bladder, which is what woke her up in the first place. Flushing the toilet, she turned toward the kitchen, refusing to look in the mirror; refusing to look at the weather worn kindly face rimmed by silver hair. Her hair wasn’t gray; it had turned, through the years, to shiny silver, with few remnants of the black that used to crown her head. Grogginess prevailed as she slowly limped to the kitchen. Smells of fresh coffee permeated the air. The automatic timer on the coffee maker had faithfully completed its assigned duty on this spring morning. Hot coffee made to order ready and waiting at 4:30 am, every morning, including Saturdays and Sundays. After pouring the dark steaming liquid in her favorite ceramic mug, which sported the Texas State Flag and the saying ‘Texas - A State of Mind’, she stepped out the kitchen door to a wooden deck that nestled against the back of her ranch style country home. She eased her body into an aged high backed wooden rocking chair and sipped her coffee. The early predawn morning sounds slowly seeped into her consciousness as the coffee gradually eased away the stupor of sleep. Mocking birds with their multitudinous song imitations brought the trees to life along the spring fed creek. Water, gurgled over rocks and quietly soothed her ear, as she stared into the darkness of the country morning. A calf bawled somewhere in the distance, in search of breakfast from its mother's udder. A soft singing of crickets, added to the chorus of croaking frogs and singing birds. A quiet revelry graced the waking country side.

She stretched to relieve some of the stiffness, and contemplated a second cup of coffee. An orange tabby cat uncurled itself from sleep and stretched two paws out, curving its body upward. The stretch gradually inched its way from front to back, as he yawned. A graceful stride brought him to bare legs and feet extending from a mid-thigh cotton night shirt. He rubbed up against those legs till a muscular brown hand reached down to stroke his silky fur and a dusky alto voice greeted him.

Good morning Tom. A sleepy meow and rusty radiator purr emanated from the cat as fingers scratched behind his ears, a favorite spot for attention. Tom's head bowed into the fingers to increase the pressure on that tantalizing spot till he flipped his entire body over with a plop, exposing his soft under belly for loving strokes. You goofy cat, you love that pettin' don't ya? Are you ready for breakfast? Carol asked Tom as she leaned forward to rise from the chair. A succession of pleading meows filled the quiet air. I'd say that's a yes. Come on, let's go eat.

As a faint light began emerging in the East, Carol had already covered a lot of ground. Fifty acres of corn planted and another hundred to go. Her 7280 John Deere tractor pulling a forty foot coulter-planter covered a lot of ground in a hurry. Planting the seed and banding fertilizer in one trip saved a lot of time and diesel fuel. The ground was ready for seed. A quick final pass two weeks ago with a tandem off-set disk had brought the soil to a nice mellow consistency for planting. The spring rain that passed through last week melted any remaining clods and settled the plowed earth.

By late afternoon, three fields were planted and Carol headed the tractor back to the barn. A quick scan of the sky for any signs of rain proved fruitless. No clouds were to be seen, only the uninterrupted intense bright blue of spring skies. Her farm was surrounded by trees on all sides, which made for a splendorous view. The North Bosque River bound her farm on the east and the juniper covered chalky limestone Cross Timbers and Prairies foothills on the west. In between lay some of the best river bottom soils in the area, and they produced good crops under Carol’s management year after year.

Need a good rain in the next week to really get stuff off to a good start, she thought, as she pulled into the barn area, and shut the off tractor. She climbed down and started emptying the planter boxes of left over seed corn, and a grain cart loaded with sorghum seed sat hitched to the back of her pickup waiting to replace the corn being removed. Tomorrow she would plant the two hundred acres of rented land just down the road, and then spring planting would be done. As she filled grain sacks with left over corn seed, a smirk crossed her face as memories of high school filtered back...

No! Absolutely not! Girls cannot take Vocational Agriculture courses! raved Mr. Jameson. I will not teach girls in my classes! Just go take your Home Economics classes and learn how to cook and sew like girls are supposed to do. The aging Ag teacher was animate about the subject and firmly entrenched in his decision and ancient perceptions of the ‘proper place’ of women. No amount of arguing would change his mind.

There were four girls in the sophomore class that wanted to take Agriculture classes, but were forbidden to do so. The next ten years would begin a trend of opening areas like vocational-agriculture and shop mechanics to girls, subjects that were historically all male. This trend would grow and change the face of high school education, but not in time for Carol. She was in her sophomore year of college when the affliction hit her again. An extremely athletic girl, she had played basketball and ran track in high school. They were the only two competitive sports available to girls at the small country school she attended. A majority of the school's athletic funding went to football. Next in line for funding were boys’ basketball, track, and baseball. The two sports available for girls took a back seat to all the rest. As Carol went off to college, she found herself majoring in Physical Education, a natural transition at the time, since she loved sports. It was a fundamental progression for her to look at becoming a coach. but after a year and a half, she was bored and searching for something more meaningful and challenging. She would have made a wonderful high school coach and teacher, but there was something missing. It dawned on her; a fateful spring day, what she really wanted to do was farm. Farming had fed and clothed her all of her life, and there was no reason why it couldn't for the rest of her life. That very day, she changed her major to Agriculture. Her eyes gleamed in defiance of the high school teacher that refused to let her in classes. That was over twenty years ago. Her eyes still gleamed as she looked across her fields and inhaled the soul warming aroma of freshly turned earth or freshly mowed hay. She was a good farmer; her crops exceeded the county averages for bushel yields consistently, year after year. Even though it was hard work she reveled in it.

A honking horn, jerked her back from the past, as a pickup roared into the yard, and skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust that enveloped the pickup and everything near it. A young man stepped out of the dusty vehicle and sauntered his gangly frame over to where Carol was stuffing the last empty seed sack in a barrel.

Hi Carol. You got your corn planted?

Just finished a little while ago Jeff, I'll start on the sorghum in the morning over at the Johnson place. How 'bout you and your Dad? Ya'll done?

Na, we still have about a hundred acres to finish up, and the sorghum ground still needs another disking before we can plant it.

Well, what are you doing here? You ought to be in the field! Carol responded playfully.

One of the tractors broke down, and I have to go into Waco for the part. Just thought I'd stop by and see if you needed anything, since I'm going that way anyway.

Thanks, Jeff. That's real nice of you ,but I can't think of anything I need right off hand.

Jeff and his parents, John and Edna Black farm just down the road a couple of miles. A family operation, as are most in the Central Texas area. It's about the only way for young folks to get started these days. Jeff a tall lanky kid, with a freckled face and a shock of sandy colored curly hair, stood there with his hands stuffed in the back pockets of his Levis. His usual T-shirt draped over his skinny torso as he scratched the dirt with his lace-up work boots.

I just thought I'd stop and ask. What are neighbors for anyway? He asked walking back to his pickup. I guess I better git on into town. Dad'll be wondering what happened to me. We'll see ya Carol. Take care. Hey by the way, Mom wants to know when you’re coming back over for Sunday dinner again?

Thanks again Jeff. You tell Edna, I'll call her in a few days and let her know. Carol yelled at the pickup as it roared back out of the yard, a hand projected from the open window to acknowledge the parting remark and wave good-bye. Carol knew the sole purpose for the visit was a reminder from Edna about Sunday dinner, the ruse about needing anything from town was just a cover for the real question.

She turned and headed for the house with the long slow strides of a finished workday. The screen door slammed behind her, as she made her way to the bedroom, where she sat down on a chair in the corner to unlace her work boots. Toes wriggled and curled with the cool freedom of being released from hot stiff leather; the T-shirt came off next and then the socks and Wranglers. A hot shower would feel good. As she shed her bra and underwear, she stepped underneath the hot water, letting it soothe her tired muscles and rinse away the dust and grime of the day.

Revived and clean, she dried off. The mirror could not be avoided as it was this morning. She towel dried her short silver hair and reached for a comb. The vision in the mirror reflected a kind weathered face with crows’ feet radiating from the corners of blue eyes, the color of a hot mid-summer sky. A slightly sad countenance covered the face. White skin covered her trim muscular body except for the arms, face, and neck, with a V extending down from the base of the neck. The pattern was familiar. It was matched by thousands like it from one end of the country to the other. It was called a farmer's tan. Only the parts constantly exposed to the sun, wind, and rain were tanned. The remaining white translucent skin was consistently covered by durable work clothes. There was no time in a farmers’ life to lie around in the sun and tan the rest of the body. The only interruption to this color pattern was a thick triangular thatch of black pubic hair. She combed and parted her silver crown that used to match the black below, but that was years ago. Her head had already turned mostly silver while she was still in her twenties. By the time she was thirty-eight, very little of the black remained, and parts of the silver were now turning white. Sometimes it made her feel old and washed out, even though most people found it attractive against her bronze face.

She turned from the tell-tale mirror and found clean underwear, an ironed cotton shirt, and ironed and creased Wranglers. Wranglers were the only jeans that fit. Carol's body was not that of most women. She had no hips, and not much of a butt. There was no curving waist line. Women's pants just did not fit. By the time they fit in the waist, the hips were a mile too big, or if they fit in the hips, the waist was too small. She gave up the search years ago and found variety with an assortment of colored Wrangler jeans and dress pants.

***

Chapter 2 - Moving Again

Denise slapped her hands together in a gesture of finality. The last box was packed and the moving van was due any minute.

Walking into the bedroom, Denise looked at her suitcase lying in the middle of the empty bedroom floor. Sprawled on top of her neatly packed clothes, all she had to wear until the movers delivered her things to her new location; was Abigail, a medium long haired black cat. She put her hands on her hips, with a look of exasperation and sympathy. Abby always knew when Denise was going on a trip, and she always plopped down in the middle of her open suit case, but this wasn't just a trip, they were moving again. It was the fourth such move in as many years since Denise found the small black kitten in an alley rummaging through garbage for food, and the seventh move for Denise in the ten years she had worked for Uncle Sam. She was tired of moving, tired of saying good-byes, tired of starting over every year or so. She wanted to settle down and stay in one place for a while. She wanted a home, and anchor, a place to call her own for years to come.

Yea, Abby, we're moving again, and you know it, don't you. Well, don't worry, sweetie, I'm not leaving you behind. She walked over and knelt down to pick up the cat and stroked the shiny black coat. She heard a truck pull up in front of the small house she had rented for the last year. A quick look out the window confirmed the movers had arrived.

Okay girl, it's time for you to get in your carrier, while these guys are going in and out. With a small protest meow, Denise latched the door of the pet carrier behind Abby, safely restricting her movements while the movers removed everything from the house.

It didn't take long for the moving guys to pack the small truck. Denise didn't have much furniture. Most of the boxes stacked in the truck were books. Text books from her years in