The boy was tall for his age. Having spent most of his life short, there was a passing summer that added tremendous height and weight to the boys frame. At the end of that summer he looked more like a young man that a boy. No longer the 145 pound high school freshman, but rather the lean 200 pound high school junior, who was now shaving twice a week.
The summer started out like any other with the last day of school and screaming teens fleeing from closing classes. The boy and his friend piled into the old pickup that was serving as a daily ride. It was red, rusted, and slightly bent, but ran pretty good and got them from here to there reliably. The two teens were next door neighbors, or as next door as you can get in rural Montana. That is within a few miles of each other. Their parents properties abutted each other on western and eastern fences adjoined with a crossing gate at the middle which was left open most of the time.
The two teens' families worked the hay fields together. Which meant that the two boys would be working the hay together as it was their jobs to bring in the summer cuts of feed hay for the horses, and cows in the county.
The day would start after the animals were fed. Breakfast would be waiting. The boy was going through a growth thing and eating like a Shetland pony, ponies have good appetites'. At one point during the summer a good breakfast would consist of a dozen scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and all the milk and juice he could stuff into his face. The old saying goes, "Feed em, and they grow." boy was he growing.
The old man would pay the two ten cents a bale to cut, dry, bale, and stack the hay. During the summer if the weather cooperated the fields could produce 3 cuttings of hay each. At a thousand bales a day the two could earn any where from 300 to 600 dollars in a summer. Doesn't sound like much today, but back then that was a gold mine. Lotsa work, lotsa food, not so much contact with others of the human race, just the two, and men are grown from boys.
Part of every summer on the plains has to do with some pretty substantial thunder storms. In the Northern Plains of Montana a good thunderstorm can grow large and angry. A great green eye can be seen and the roar of a thousand trains can be heard high on the howl of the wind. Lightning will crack and flash it's whip across all in it's path. Fire will start, hail will fall, and tornados will threaten to erase the landscape at every turn.
The storm could be seen for miles before it finely arrived at the field. First the wind started blowing. Not hard, but not soft either. There was a threat in it's breath. Then the rain began to fall, and the wind began driving hard across the alfalfa. The first crack of lightening blinded the two boys and froze them into position. Then another crack and an almost instant BANG. Ozone could be smelled in the air. The two made the decision to try to get to the nearest barn as fast as they could run. The boy in his Converse, and his friend in Keds, both flying across the field. All time was building in this present. Everything that was and is, or will be is right now. Then a White Hot flash, and the boy was lifted off the ground. He rose 8 or 10 feet in the air and was thrown a half a football field east. His friend ran to him and found him conscious, but confused. The boy was totally dry, steam was rising from his body, his hair was standing on end, and his Converse sneakers had been burned off his feet. He could not talk straight, his talk sounded like a record being played backwards. Everything went black and the boy woke up on the old man's couch looking up at he and his friend, "What happened?"
The story was told him and all that could be mustered was, "Holy Shit." The old man laughed, and his friend just stared at him like he was some sort of avenging frigging angel.
The end of the summer came and the county fair had arrived. The old man prepared a steer, a sheep, and a horse for the fair. They were all trailered into the fairgrounds. The old man did this every year as a way to sell some of the livestock, and advertise the Ranch. This was a good year.
The two young men hadn't seen hide nor hair of any other's from school or town all summer long. Neither of them even thought about it one way or the other. The fair was just a convenient way to spend some of the summer money. Fairs are always good for food.
Being mischievous as he was, the old man took the young men to the hammer and bell. His friend tried to ring the bell with a solid strike, but could not quite get the striker all the way up the board. He got to the He Man stage and won a stuffed bear, which he promptly gave to the nearest girl he could find. He was gone for the rest of the fair.
The old man spoke to the Carney for a bit and it looked like they were making some sort of wager. The young man was handed the hammer and the Carney pointed at the hammer pad and said, "Have a go at it youngster."
The young man hit hard and the ringer went half way up the board. There were some chuckles, and giggling coming from the crowd. The old man spoke again to the Carney, "Double or nothing." They looked in agreement.
The hammer was again handed to the young man. He smiled internally and looked up at the old man, who smiled back and him and winked. The young man raised the hammer high, then brought it down so hard that the head of the hammer was smashed on impact. The striker slid so fast up the board that it hit the bell ringing it loudly and knocking it off the top of the board. The old man smiled at the young man and put his hand out to the Carney.
The Carney handed the young man a great big Cubano' cigar and handed the old man an envelope full of cash. The bet was won. The old man knows things before they happen. He told everyone present that the young man was the cousin of the boy from Billings.
This story lasted strongly until the truth was revealed when the young man reported for Football practice later the next week. Summer was over.
Peace and Balance,
John
