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Alleluia Green
Super-Earth
- Joined
- May 16, 2010
The screen door screeched as Lettie stepped out into the cool morning air. Before her, down the steps of the broad front porch, stretched acres and acres of perfectly manicured farmland. The waving green corn, the golden wheat, the sharp smell of fresh summer strawberries; all of it wafted over her as the morning breeze ruffled her curly brown hair. To the right of the main house was a huge storage shed, where their few tractors and other harvesting tools were stored. A few big barns housing livestock stood down the slope of the hill, where the land rolled a bit and made for good pasturing. A dirt driveway wound through the trees scattered along the edge of their property, leading back to the main highway.
Plunking down on the porch step, she pulled on her muddy rubber boots, preparing to trek down to the big red barn and feed and water the horses. It was a typical morning on the Goodman farm.
She glanced up as the door screeched again and her father walked out, shading his eyes against the light of the rising sun. "New help comes today," he said gruffly.
"Oh yeah," Lettie replied, tucking the hem of her skinny jeans down into her boots. "I forgot."
"Hard to forget," said her father, taking a seat on the old white porch swing. He dug his hands into his pockets and checked the time on his cell phone. "That damn thief keeps making off with our equipment."
He referred to the recent hash of thefts occurring on their farm and some of the surrounded farmsteads. The thief was quick, intelligent, and never struck the same farm twice. Yet, his pattern was impossible to predict, and he seemed to take tools, grains, and ruin crops at random. The police could discern no motive for his crimes, other than the simple cruelty and inconvenience it caused. The Goodman farm had been struck three times, each time worse than the last.
"And you think some big macho security man is gonna stop 'em?" Lettie drawled, standing up and adjusting her red plaid shirt across her soft, ample bosom. Her father stared at her, green eyes level.
"Of course it's gonna help, you little shithead," he said, half-serious, half-affectionate. "I want you back up here in twenty minutes to give him a tour of the farm."
Lettie rolled her matching green eyes, but kept her snarky responses to herself. When it was just her and her dad out here, running this farm on their own, she supposed they made for easy prey. Maybe some more help would do them some good.
Plunking down on the porch step, she pulled on her muddy rubber boots, preparing to trek down to the big red barn and feed and water the horses. It was a typical morning on the Goodman farm.
She glanced up as the door screeched again and her father walked out, shading his eyes against the light of the rising sun. "New help comes today," he said gruffly.
"Oh yeah," Lettie replied, tucking the hem of her skinny jeans down into her boots. "I forgot."
"Hard to forget," said her father, taking a seat on the old white porch swing. He dug his hands into his pockets and checked the time on his cell phone. "That damn thief keeps making off with our equipment."
He referred to the recent hash of thefts occurring on their farm and some of the surrounded farmsteads. The thief was quick, intelligent, and never struck the same farm twice. Yet, his pattern was impossible to predict, and he seemed to take tools, grains, and ruin crops at random. The police could discern no motive for his crimes, other than the simple cruelty and inconvenience it caused. The Goodman farm had been struck three times, each time worse than the last.
"And you think some big macho security man is gonna stop 'em?" Lettie drawled, standing up and adjusting her red plaid shirt across her soft, ample bosom. Her father stared at her, green eyes level.
"Of course it's gonna help, you little shithead," he said, half-serious, half-affectionate. "I want you back up here in twenty minutes to give him a tour of the farm."
Lettie rolled her matching green eyes, but kept her snarky responses to herself. When it was just her and her dad out here, running this farm on their own, she supposed they made for easy prey. Maybe some more help would do them some good.