The men are still in the fields despite the late hour. Catherine is concerned. She doesn’t like it when they work past sundown. She gets images of gruesome accidents, things imagined, things she has seen happen to other women’s husbands. If it hadn’t been for the wet spring, she thinks.
The men must attempt to make up for what nature made impossible earlier in the season, and their days are long ones. The heat today is unbearable; the thermostat on the back landing marks 93F. Three times a day, she jumps in the old pick-up to deliver them food and fresh water.
She steals a kiss when she can, always fearful that it could be the last. Catherine looks forward to the coming winter, and the snow buried fields, and her husband safe at home.