Wesley Weyandt's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

Katie stood up and brushed off her jeans. She looked at the barn like it was a patient in a bad room. "Show me what's in there," she said. "All of it. Then we sort." Wesley slid the barn door open. The wolf lay under a tarp on the plank table where he had left it. The donation bucket sat by the door. Coins showed above the rim. A few folded bills stuck up between them. People had been walking in all day and dropping what they had. "Okay," Katie said. She pushed her sleeves up. "Bucket first. I want to know the number before we talk about anything else." Wesley set the bucket on the table beside the tarp. He tipped it out. Coins rolled. Katie caught the ones that tried to leave the edge. She started stacking without asking him how. "You count coin," she said. "I'll count paper." He stacked. She smoothed the bills flat on her thigh. The shepherd lay in the doorway and watched the drive. Nobody came up it. The sign at the mailbox was doing its job now that the sun was down. Wesley finished his stacks. Katie finished her stack. She wrote a number on the back of an envelope with a pen from her pocket. "That's not the tax," she said. "But it's a month of groceries and the power bill. That's real." "It's real," Wesley said. He stood there looking at the coins. People he did not know had walked into his barn and left money for him. He had not asked. He had put out a bucket and gone about his day and they had filled it. "Wes." Katie tapped the envelope. "Sit down a second." He sat on the edge of the table. She stood between his knees and put her hand flat on his chest. Not soft. Firm, like she was checking a pulse. "Here's what we've got," she said. "Ninety days. Bounty covers the tax. This bucket covers a few small bills. Your uncle is circling. We need more money and we need it before he moves." "I know." "So I'm moving in on my days off," she said. "Not full. Just the three I'm not at the hospital. I can cook here cheaper than I eat there. That frees up what you'd spend feeding me on visits, and I can help you work the property." He looked at her. She held his eyes. "Don't make it weird," she said. "I'm not." "You're about to." "I'm not." He put his hand over hers on his chest. "Okay. Three days." "Three days," she said. She stepped back and picked up the envelope with the number on it. "Now we plan the other eighty-nine." Wesley slid the barn door shut behind them. The bucket sat empty on the table. The count was written down. For the first time in two years, somebody else was holding the pen.