They might be worried, but Adam wasn’t. His worries vanished as he watched Eden’s team toss the grain in the air. The wind caught the chaff, blowing it away, but they had a lot of work before everything was separated. All Adam had to do was finish shoveling in the wheat. The whirling machine would do the rest.
Already a mound of clean straw was forming at the mouth of the chute. In another few seconds . . . there. The sweet patter of clean grains of wheat hitting the bottom of the bucket could be heard above the whirling of the fan that was blowing the husks away.
“Look here.” It was Bella’s student—the one who thought she walked on water—pointing at the spout. “The grain is already cleaned.”
Like a herd of hungry pigs gathering around a trough, the crowd pulled tight around the bucket. Adam lifted the last of the wheat and dropped it on the feeder. His work was done. All that was left was to watch the threshing machine do its job. That and celebrate with Bella.
She was supposed to be pleased that he’d succeeded. She was supposed to be proud of him and his work. What was the worry on her face? It was about her test, wasn’t it? But when he looked again, he realized that wasn’t what was worrying her.
She was hugging her arms tightly to her side, and her mouth was twisted and her neck tense, but this was more than worry for her job. She was watching her father.
Red-faced and sweating, Mr. Eden was shoveling furiously, throwing grain up before bending over to get another heavy shovelful. The breeze had died down, meaning that less chaff was separating with each toss, but he wasn’t giving up. Even though defeat was unavoidable, he fought on like his honor depended on it.
And maybe it did.
Adam spared a thought for the older man—a man who was the best farmer in the area, respected for his knowledge and venerated for his wisdom. And here Adam came, a cocky upstart who told him that he was wrong. Who said he could beat him at his own livelihood on his own property, and then went about proving it. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Adam wanted to take his daughter too. Mr. Eden had a lot to lose.
The sun glinted off Adam’s beautiful machine as it continued effortlessly. What would happen if he walked away? What if he didn’t make his payment and lost the machine? He was young. He could start again. But if he lost and couldn’t come back to Oak Springs? Would they really enforce the rule? Would Bella leave with him? One look at her face, and Adam realized that her first priority was taking care of her family. She couldn’t think past that.
He scraped his pitchfork into the corners of the wagon and caught the tangles of twine that had bound the sheaves. With everyone wondering at the falling kernels, no one was paying attention to him. No one but Bella.
It had been enough last time. Would it work again? He gave her a searing look, poured his heart out with no words, and prayed that she understood, because it just might be the last time he got to speak to her if she didn’t. When she saw the pitchfork full of twine, she shook her head. But it was too late. He tossed it into the feeder before anyone else noticed.
The smooth whirling noise clacked. Adam winced at the sound of the gears dragging. It was the sound of his future being sacrificed for the love of Bella. His stomach turned as the gears jammed. He waved to Dr. Paulson to stop the horses. There was no sense in forcing the machine any further. With the twine jamming the feeder, it would do no good.
The pride he’d wanted to see on Bella’s face was there now, shining true and strong. Through tears she beamed, but he knew those tears were for the future they might have had together. Now, to choose him would mean leaving behind her family and her school and never returning. It would mean trusting a penniless man with no income to provide for her. It was too high a price.
“Look at that. The threshing machine can’t get the job done after all.”
“Never trust newfangled machines. They aren’t reliable.”
“Eden showed that professor a thing or two. We in Grimes County know farming. We don’t need them to come in and tell us.”
In the absence of the thresher’s noise, the swish of the shovels against the canvas and the raining grain of Mr. Eden’s team could be heard more clearly. Mr. Eden straightened. His field hands paused to see what he was doing.
His sweat-covered face wrinkled in confusion. “Are you finished already?” He leaned against his shovel, letting it support his weight as he caught his breath.
Adam swallowed to keep his composure. “It looks like some twine got caught in the machine. Gummed it up.”
The shorter of Eden’s field hands nudged the other. Seeing the miracle they needed, they scooped up more shovelfuls of grain and tossed them in the wind.
Mr. Eden hesitated, then turned to Adam. With a disapproving snarl, he handed his shovel to Bella. “Help them out, would you? This contest has to be decided one way or the other.” Then he pushed up his sleeves, climbed on the side of the machine, and reached deep into the feeder, grabbing one end of the cord.
What could Adam do besides help? Rocking the belt of the feeder
