Rebecca's Promise Read Online Free PDF

these questions first?”
    “They didn’t seem important,” he said, because they hadn’t. Why they were important now, he couldn’t figure out, but they were. Was it the fear he had seen in her eyes?
    “How much is a little?” he asked again.
    “Once,” she said.
    “How many dates would that be?”
    “Two.”
    “So,” he asked, “did he drop you?”
    “No,” she said. “I said no after the second time.”
    “Was there trouble?”
    “You sure are something,” she stated, the fire gone from her eyes. “No. I just said I wasn’t interested.”
    Rebecca seemed to want the discussion to end. She reached out and took his hand. “Let’s get to the chores.”
    “All right,” he said, “but we need to be careful.” He pulled his hand away from hers. “Your parents will see us.”
    “I don’t care,” she said.
    “Well, I do. We have to keep our relationship right.” He noticed a hurt look on her face and added, “Rebecca, it’s going to be hard enough.”
    “It’s just those rules, isn’t it?” she asked.
    He thought for a moment. “Yes, it’s the rules. I want to keep them because I think they’re for our good. But it’s more than that.”
    “And?” She kept her eyes on his face.
    “It’s…” He found himself stumbling to say it. “It’s just that I don’t trust myself.” His eyes softened as he stood looking into hers.
    She was still for a moment and then said, “I trust you.” Pausing a moment more, Rebecca broke away saying, “We have some chores to do.”
    He let his breath out slowly, mixed emotions running through him…but best to drop them now.
    “How many cows do you milk?” he finally asked awkwardly.
    “Thirty,” she replied. “Dad says that we’re among the last dairy farmers in the county.”
    “Yeah,” he agreed, “there aren’t too many around. Has your father ever thought of doing something else?”
    “He likes farming,” she said. “We raise most of our own feed. Saves money…and milk prices are up a little. Besides what else would he do?” she asked with a chuckle. “Compete with the Miller’s operations on the hill?”
    “Your uncle already does that,” he said dryly. “Keim Family Market, but we get along.”
    “There you go,” she told him. “A dairy farm is safer. But Dad does work at Keim’s sometimes. Brings in extra cash.” Arriving at the barn, she held the door open for him, waiting as he entered.
    Stepping inside, the sounds and smells of a dairy barn hit him—the faint smell of cow manure hung in the air, the lowing of cattle just outside the sliding wooden doors.
    “We just whitewashed,” she said, seeing that he noticed. “The inspector passed us on his first trip out. He said Dad does a good job of things.”
    John nodded while thinking how much he preferred work tools that didn’t splatter the ground with smelly droppings from their backsides. “When does the milking start?” he asked.
    “Fifteen minutes. Let some feed out of the shoot over there. Give each cow a shovelful. Keeps them occupied till we get the milkers on.”
    He responded by finding the feed shovel and lifting the sliding board that controlled the feed flow. The pressure surprised him as the spray of brown feed, smelling of molasses and squashed grain, shot down to the floor by his feet.
    “Not too much,” she said calmly. “Save the extra for next time.They can’t reach it from there anyway, so it will keep. I’m going for the milkers now.”
    He picked up the shovel, scooped up a portion he figured was equivalent to the prescribed amount and deposited it in front of the first open station. When all sixteen spots were done, he retreated to the back and waited.
    She pushed open the swinging door behind him, coming out with a milker in each hand, their hoses hanging just shy of the floor.
    “I’ll take them,” he offered, reaching out his hand.
    She gave him one and lifted the other up to snap in place on the wire suspended from the ceiling.