Across the River Read Online Free Page A

mowing after dinner, Jack?”
    “Why do you think I’m edging the blades — to go shaving?” Jack asked him.
    Peter laughed and jumping to his feet he ran across the yard to help Davy, his bad humour forgotten. Jack watched them unload the churns out of the cart: Peter tall and blond, Davy dark and blockier. Peter played full forward on the Kilmeen team and Davy full back, and Jack thought that the two positions suited their personalities. They were good lads and he was fond of the two of them, but it was Nora who was the light of his life.
As I get older,
he thought,
it is good to have the young around me. They keep the life in me.
    After the dinner Davy rounded up the two horses while Jack oiled the mowing machine from the long nozzled can. As he replaced the can, he checked that he had all the wrenches he might need in the box of the machine. Never do to have a breakdown with no tools to get going again. As he straightened up he heard the clattering of horses hooves and Davy led James and Jerry, dancing with energy, into the haggard.
    “It’s easy to know that it’s the first day’s mowing,” Davy declared as they tackled them to the mowing machine.
    “These two are ready for action.”
    Jack clambered into the iron seat, secured his bag of hay beneath him and then guided the horses towards the gate. The wheels made a noisy journey out of the haggard with the blade section standing upright beside him.
    “By God, Jack,” Davy told him, standing back in admiration, “you’re like a fellow driving a chariot. Ben Hur isn’t in it with you.”
    “Out of my way now, lad, or I might mow you down.”
    “Don’t get carried away,” Davy laughed. “I might come in handy again. The gates are open down along and I’ll be down after you.”
    Once he got on to the soft sod of the Moss field the journey was smoother. Jack loved the feeling of heading off down the fields to start the first mowing of the season. The furze bushes were a blaze of yellow over in Conways’ and the whitethorn was pouring off the ditches into the dykes beside him. He had lost track of the number of years that he had come down these fields at the beginning of summer to begin the mowing, and always it lifted his spirits.
God’s in his heaven,
he thought,
and all is right with my world.
He turned into the big meadow along by the river and raised the lever to let down the long blade.
Now, Jack my man,
he thought,
this will test your edging.
The blade cut through the hay like a hot knife through butter.
You have not lost your touch, old man
, he told himself.
    As he guided the horses around by the headland, he viewed with satisfaction the tall meadow grass. Different hues of delicate browns and yellows blended together. As the first cut fell the whiff of purple clover filled the air and the smell that wafted up to his nostrils told him that the field was just right for cutting. The horses had their own rhythm and hardly needed him, they were so used to their job. He relaxed on his seat to the soft drone of the mowing machine.
    As Jack circled around the field, the island of hay in the centre grew smaller and the swards stretched out around it. He decided that Davy must have forgotten his promise tocome down after him to rake out the dykes. That was not surprising, because Davy could be depended on to come across something else that he’d decide had to be done. He might bring down the tea later and stay on then for a while before the cows, or Martha herself could come if she decided she needed to get out of the house. It would give him a chance to put in a good word for Peter, not that she’d listen, but it was always worth a try.
    But it was Nora who finally came through the gap swinging the gallon of tea. She was probably just back from school. It did his heart good to see her dancing over the swards, her mane of blond curly hair shining in the sun. With her long elegant limbs she always put him in mind of a well-bred colt. Not a trace of