Martha shrugged, sending him a little smile. “Go and sow the radish,” she said. Turning to Lois, she added, “Do you have any older clothes? It’s dirty work.”
“I can wear my oldest jeans,” Lois said, looking down at the clothes she had bought at the store in Smallville and noticing they already carried a few marks and stains from her various jobs.
“Clark’s right,” Martha said. “It’s not easy on your back.”
“Then I should do it,” Lois said.
“We’ll do it together,” Martha said. “I’ll dig, you can pick up, then we’ll swap.”
Chapter 10
After the tillage radishes were sown and the tractor returned, Clark drove to the farm store in Smallville and bought some spare parts for the baler and several rolls of twine.
He was about to get into the truck and return to the farm when, on impulse, he crossed the road and entered the general store, thinking he might buy some chocolate to share with Lois.
His eye caught a copy of The Daily Planet on a pile. He went over and picked up the top one. It was dated two days earlier.
The front-page story was written by Perry White, the editor, under the headline Corruption Rife in New Troy.
Clark read it very fast, covering the entire story in less than a second. It outlined an organised extortion racket involving a network of crooks with links to major government departments. Clark understood it was a big story, even though he didn’t recognise many of the names of the people and businesses involved.
The story continued on page 3, and Clark opened the paper.
His eyes settled on Lois’s name, and his heart rate quickened.
The Daily Planet’s Lois Lane conducted a thorough investigation and uncovered many of the leads that ultimately led to the downfall of this syndicate. Her contribution must not be underestimated.
Lois had been working on a story involving some powerful people who would not have welcomed her investigations. One of them, she had trusted implicitly – enough to jeopardise her career.
There was nothing in Perry White’s story to support Lois’s belief that she was out of favour with her editor. If she wanted to return to her life in Metropolis, Clark could see nothing that would stop her.
And that… that felt like a death knell to his hopes and dreams.
Tucked into the corner were several copies of The Star – a newspaper Clark had never read. He saw the headline: Lois Lane Lover Scandal
Clark picked up all remaining copies and added them to The Daily Planet. As he hurried past a display, he took two bars of chocolate, not bothering to read the labels. He paid for it all and returned to his truck. He drove a few miles out of town and stopped, picking up one copy of The Star.
The corruption story covered the first three pages, but the focus was very different than Perry’s story.
The Star seemed far more interested in reporting that Lois Lane, The Daily Planet’s premier reporter, had been compromised by her relationship with Claude Jourdain, owner of the restaurant, Laflamme, a business deeply involved in the corruption.
If The Star were to be believed, the man Lois had trusted had also been the man she had loved.
Did he believe it?
Clark considered for a moment. As unreliable as The Star was, it seemed unlikely that they would risk legal action stating something as fact that had no basis in truth. Suggestion and inuendo were far more their style.
It seemed Lois had lost her job, her family, and her man… all in one day.
Clark’s anger surged at the unknown Claude who had broken Lois’s heart, ruined her investigation, damaged her reputation, risked her career, and eroded her trust.
Trust…
As their friendship had deepened, Lois had trusted Clark with details of the events that had brought her to Smallville and into his life, but she hadn’t disclosed she had been in a relationship with her source.
She hadn’t wanted him to know that part. Now, he did.
Would she be angry?
Would she think he had gone behind her back to assuage his curiosity?
She’d said she appreciated that he’d demanded no answers.
Had he threatened their friendship? Worse, would she feel that he was just another man who couldn’t be trusted and be hurt all over again?
He took the three copies of The Star and got down from the truck. Lowering his glasses, he scanned in all directions. No one was close. He dropped the papers onto the road and incinerated them with his eyes. Seconds later, there was nothing but a small pile of black ash on a slightly discoloured road.
He blew it away and climbed into the truck, his heart heavy with the possibility he’d broken something… before it had even been real. Before it had had a chance to be anything.
He returned to the farm and mindlessly loaded his fencing equipment onto the truck. His thoughts were with Lois and her story and the corruption and the man, Claude, who had betrayed her.
As he loaded up the bundle of wire, he accepted - again - that there could be nothing between them. It was the last thing she needed now. It was too soon.
And despite what she feared, Lois hadn’t destroyed her career or lost her job. One day – one terrible day very soon – she would return to her life.
Until then, he had to offer support and friendship.
Because that’s what Lois needed.
~~~~
That afternoon, Lois had discovered the truth in Martha’s words. Harvesting potatoes is hard and hot work, and not easy on the back. However, by four o’clock, they had dug up, collected, brushed, and packed away many pounds of potatoes to be kept for winter. They left the boxes for Clark to store in the cellar.
Lois was tired and dirty as they headed for the house.
Clark was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of lemonade. “Good timing,” he said with a broad smile that encompassed both women.
“Have you finished the radish?” Martha asked.
“Two fields done. The third will have to wait until it had dried up after the rain.”
Martha glanced at the clock. “Will you have time to do the sheep?”
“I’m hoping to.”
“Do you want me to milk?”
“No, thanks. I’ll do it when I get in, even if it’s after dark. Bess has the calf on her. She’ll be fine if I’m a bit late.”
“Do you need my help?” Lois asked Clark.
He shot her a smile. “I’d like that.”
Lois’s tiredness dropped away. She looked down. “Should I change my clothes? I’m not very clean.”
“No, don’t,” Clark said. “You’re perfect as you are.”
She glanced up quickly, but he was already heading for the door. With a wave to Martha, Lois followed.
~~~~
“We aren’t going to ride on the ATV?” Lois asked, nodding towards where it was loaded onto the back of the truck.
“No. I need to bring back the fencing gear and it won’t fit on the ATV.”
“Pity,” she said.
“You liked the ATV?” Clark asked, surprised.
“Yes. I did.”
“Once the fence is finished, we’ll use it to bring in the sheep.”
“That’s why we’re taking it?”
“That’s why we’re taking it.”
She smiled at that, and they piled into the truck. “What’s the plan?” Lois asked as he backed out. “And how can I help?”
He loved her willingness to involve herself in his life. “We’re going to strain and attach the final piece of mesh fencing. Then we’re going to clear away all the fencing equipment so it’s safe for the sheep. Then we’ll go and get them. We’ll take them through the sheep yards and sort them – ewes to the new field and their lambs to a side field.”
“The mothers aren’t pregnant again, are they?”
“No. Not yet. They’ll get a month’s break, then I’ll bring in the rams.”
“How long after that do the lambs arrive?”
“The gestation period is a few days short of five months.”
“They’ll have their babies in Spring, just as the weather is getting warmer? And the grass is growing?”
He grinned sideways at her. “A lot of people ask questions about farming,” he said. “Very few show the understanding you do. Are you sure you weren’t a farmer before you became a reporter?”
“I’d never been on a farm in my life.”
“Well, I’m impressed.”
That pleased her. He could tell by her smile and the light dusting of pink on her cheeks. “I am a professional question asker,” she said. “It’s what I do.”
“Ah,” he said. “It’s not just about asking questions. It’s about understanding the underlying reasons. You join the dots really well.”
“Maybe I have a great teacher.”
Now, he was the one who was pleased. “We’ll check all the sheep, drench any that need it, trim any overgrown hooves, and get out of there real quick.”
“Why?”
“Because the lambs are not going to be happy when they realise their moms have gone. They will be calling and calling for her.”
“What about the ewes?”
“They’ll call a bit. But then they’ll realise their job is done and it’s time for some relaxation.”
Lois laughed. “I just got a picture in my head of sheep sitting on deckchairs sipping cocktails.”
Clark laughed at that, too. “I have a couple who would enjoy that.”
“You have favourites?” Lois guessed.
“Just a few.”
“What are their names?”
“There’s Willow, Sarah, Petal and Gully.”
“Gully?”
“That’s where I found her. Her mom had died. She was small, hungry, and cold.”
“What did you do?”
“Wrapped her in my jacket and took her home. Dad and I got her warm, got her drinking, and she recovered.”
“What did you feed her?”
“Bess’s milk.”
“You can do that? You can feed cow’s milk to lambs?”
“Gully didn’t complain.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t start calling me Road or Gate because that’s where you found me.”
“I wouldn’t be so rude,” he said, grinning. “You might not come and help me if I said that.”
“I enjoy helping you,” Lois said. “And no one is more surprised than I am.”
“I enjoy having you along,” Clark said, knowing it was barely the tip of the iceberg.
“What does drenching involve?”
“Giving oral medication to reduce their worm load.”
“OK,” she said as they arrived at the first gate. Clark stopped the truck. Lois got out to open the gate.
Clark so wanted to allow himself to dream that this was real – that Lois could be happy with him, happy on the farm, happy despite his differences. But he couldn’t, he reminded himself.
Lois needed a friend.
He drove through the open gate, glancing at her as he passed.
She’d lost so much. Her world had crumbled. Her strength and resilience were amazing.
She was amazing.
She was too modern, too independent, too capable, too talented, too determined to ever be content on a farm.
She was recovering from a cruel betrayal that had stolen so much from her.
He needed to remember there was nothing between them. Nothing permanent.
And with that knowledge, his world crumbled too.
~~~~
It took Lois only a few minutes to realise that fence strainers were completely unfathomable contraptions. They didn’t seem to faze Clark, and within an hour, they – well, he really – had the final section of the fence secure.
He had done the work. She had handed him the tools. And noticed how his shirt stretched tight across the rippling muscle of his back.
“All done,” he said, smiling at her as he gathered up the tools and put them in various large buckets. “Now to get the ladies.” He picked up three buckets and went to load them on the truck. Lois gathered the final bucket and followed him.
He got on the ATV and started it.
Lois climbed on behind and put her arms around his waist. She inched forward, snug against his body.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Yep.”
They arrived at the sheep yards, paused to open the gates, then continued to the field where the sheep were grazing. Clark rode slowly around them. When behind them, he stopped and killed the motor. “How do you feel about riding the ATV by yourself?” he asked.
“I’d love to,” Lois said as she dismounted.
“Really?” Clark said, getting off, too.
“Yes.”
He spent a couple of minutes explaining. It was going to be easy.
“These things are dangerous,” Clark warned. “They can tip over and trap you under them.”
Lois surveyed their surrounds. “It’s pretty flat here,” she noted.
He nodded. “Perfect for your first try.”
“Why do you want me to ride?” Lois asked. “Are you going to sit on the back?”
“No,” he said. “I’d like you to come up behind them. Slowly. Don’t get too close. If any veer a bit to one side or the other, just follow to herd ‘em back straight. Keep your distance, though.”
“What will you be doing?”
He grinned. “Leading them.”
“Leading them?”
“Yep.”
Lois gestured towards the yards. “You’re going to walk over there, and they’re just going to follow you?”
“I hope so,” he said.
“Can’t wait to see this,” she muttered, which made him grin wider.
“When they’re all in, could you shut the gate behind them, please?”
She nodded.
Clark walked about twenty yards away, and suddenly called, “C’mon!”
A few sheep lifted their heads and began walking towards Clark. He called again and then headed towards the yards.
The sheep stopped grazing and followed him!
Lois stared, not able to believe what she was seeing.
There was so much more to Clark Kent than was immediately obvious. In fact, he was full of surprises. His college dreams, his travel, his sense of humour, his incredibly wide range of skills, his concern for both animals and people.
His ability to hypnotise sheep!
He was complex, deep, and steadfast.
Great body.
Gorgeous smile.
Remembering she was supposed to be helping, she started the ATV and rode slowly behind the sheep. They went into the yards and Clark put out some alfalfa hay.
Lois shut the gate.
Clark emerged from a small shack carrying a book, a pen, a bottle, and a syringe. “I need to drench a few,” he said. “Can you record for me, please?”
“Yep.”
“Go to the next blank page, put the date at the top, write 'Drench' and then the numbers I call out.”
"You remember all their numbers?"
"No. They're on their ear tags."
“Do you need any help actually drenching them?”
He smiled at her. “No, thanks.”
Again, Lois wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but figured she’d find out. Clark walked up to where the sheep were eating, grabbed one, swung his leg over its back to pin the sheep’s neck between his knees, and put the syringe in her mouth. “Number 284,” he called out as he released the sheep and took hold of another one.
He repeated the process a dozen times. Then he came over to Lois. “All done. Thanks.”
“How do you choose which ones to drench?”
“A high worm load can give them scours,” he said. “I look for dirty butts. It can also mean they struggle to hold their condition, so I look for any that are a bit thin.”
“They don’t bite on the syringe?”
“They don’t have any top teeth at the front.”
“They don’t?”
“No.” Clark reached for the closest sheep and gently lifted her upper lip. Lois could see bottom teeth, but at the top, there was just gum.
“Did you take them out?”
He clearly found her question a little amusing. “You mean with them sitting back in the dentist’s chair?”
Lois laughed with him. “You didn’t take out their teeth?” she concluded.
“No. They grow bottom front teeth for cutting the grass as they graze. They have top and bottom teeth at the back for chewing their cud. Cows are the same.”
“I did not know that,” Lois said. “Did you take off their tails?”
“Yes. When they are young, I put a band on the tail. It cuts off the blood supply, and after a couple of weeks the tail drops off.”
“Why?”
“A long tail can hold the poop against their wool – the wool on the tail and the wool on their bodies. It often gets stuck there. When the weather warms up and the flies come, they lay eggs in the poop. When the maggots hatch, they bury into the sheep’s flesh and start eating it. It’s called flystrike.”
“That is seriously gross,” Lois said, wrinkling her nose.
Clark nodded. “It is. So I band their tails when they’re young.”
“Does it hurt them?”
“Honestly – it doesn’t seem to affect them much at all. And it’s by far the most humane way of limiting flystrike.”
“Thanks for explaining,” Lois said with a smile.
“Thanks for listening,” Clark said with a matching smile. He began scratching a sheep’s neck. “This is Petal,” he said. “She’s a sweetie.”
“Which one is Gully?” Lois asked.
“Gully!” Clark called.
One of the sheep broke from the group and came over. Clark continued scratching Petal and reached his other hand to scratch Gully.
“How can you tell them apart?” Lois asked. “They look identical.”
“Really?” Clark asked, seeming surprised. “They don’t look the same to me.”
“They are both white. Both sheep. Same size.”
Clark conceded that with a grin. “Have you ever touched a sheep?”
“Nope.”
“Gully loves a scratch on her neck.”
Lois bent down and ran her hand along the sheep's neck. She was soft, and she leaned into Lois’s hand.
“I need to trim a few hooves,” Clark said.
“A pedicure?” she said, grinning.
“Exactly.” He really did have the best smile. “Then we’ll separate the lambs,” he added as he moved away.
After a final pat to Gully’s neck, Lois walked to the ATV and leaned against it, hitching her butt on the seat. She opened the book to the first page. It was dated thirteen years ago and written in a rather loopy hand. As she flipped through the pages, the handwriting became less loopy. Then, ten years ago, the handwriting changed abruptly. Lois surmised that Clark had taken over the hands-on work and his father, the recording. She continued moving through the pages, reading a few notes about flystrike or pulpy kidney or twin lamb disease, knowing she would get to the page where there would be a return to Clark’s handwriting.
It came, dated ten months ago. It was stark and cold and final, and the pain and loss seemed to radiate off the page.
It was so easy to imagine Clark and his father doing this – caring for the sheep together. The book seemed to cry out, with great clarity, that Clark had lost a father, a friend, and his partner in working on the farm.
The hole left in Clark’s life must have been huge. His workload would have doubled.
He ambled over. “All done,” he said.
Lois closed the book and smiled up at him. “How are we going to separate them?” she said. “And don’t tell me you’re going to stand in the middle and point the way for each individual sheep.”
“No,” he said, “but I like that idea.”
“So… how?”
“We’ll take them through the chute,” he said pointing to where two steel fences narrowed in on the chute. “At the end, I’ll swing the gate one way or the other, and they’ll end up in two different pens.”
“What should I do?”
“Get on the ATV, and slowly push them forwards.”
“OK.”
Clark went to the chute, and Lois to the ATV.
The process went remarkably well. Clark was calm, and the sheep seemed to match his demeanour. Soon, there was a group of bigger sheep in one pen and a group of slightly smaller ones in the other pen.
“We’ll put them in their fields, and then we are done here,” Clark said, seeming pleased. “We’ll be home before dark.”
“You’ve still got to milk.”
“That won’t take long.”
Fifteen minutes later, they climbed up into the truck. “I know you want to be there when I milk,” Clark said, “but I think you should give it a miss tonight.”
“Are you worried about Bess?”
“No. But you looked exhausted an hour ago.”
“I’m fine.”
“There will be plenty of other chances to milk.”
“OK,” she conceded. “Martha had a long day, too. I’ll see if she needs any help.”
Her reward was a smile from Clark and a softly spoken, “Thanks for your help today, Lois.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I enjoyed it.”
She had. Which was still surprising.
The farm was changing her.
The life. The purpose. The simplicity. The animals.
The people.
Did she still want to be Metropolis’s best reporter?
Did she still have the drive and determination and willingness to sacrifice in order to be the best?
For the first time in fifteen years, Lois Lane didn’t know the answers to those questions.
That should have been disconcerting.
It was. But nowhere near the level she would have expected.
And Lois had no clue as to how she felt about that.
~~~~
Supper was great. Martha was in a good mood. Clark responded to his mother’s mood, and Lois enjoyed both the meal and the atmosphere. Martha and Clark talked about the farm, the coming rain, the need to get the hay in before it came, and the harvest.
Lois added a few comments, but mostly stayed quiet and relished understanding more of their conversation. There was a sense of satisfaction in what had been achieved over the past few days and Lois enjoyed feeling she had been a part of it.
“What are you plans for tomorrow, Martha?” she asked during a break in the conversation.
“Plum jelly,” she said.
“Do you need my help?”
Martha paused for a moment. “Not really, honey. You’re always welcome, of course, but I prepared the plums a week ago, so there isn’t much to be done.”
“You could help me with the firewood,” Clark said quietly, looking up from his plate.
“Is that OK, Martha?” Lois asked, forcing her gaze from where she had become locked into Clark's brown eyes.
Martha nodded. “That’s fine.”
“What are we going to do with the wood?” she asked Clark, swinging back and finding him looking at his plate.
“Clean up some branches, cut them up, bring it in, and stack it ready for winter.”
"Sounds good." Their eyes met, and a smile passed between them.
Twenty minutes later, as they cleared away the kitchen, Lois felt tiredness creep upon her. It was such a satisfying tiredness – not borne of stress or deadlines or anxiety, but work and fresh air and good food.
And… middle of the night excursions to the barn.
“Goodnight,” Lois said, when the kitchen had been restored to order.
“Goodnight, Lois,” Clark said with a smile.
“Goodnight, honey,” Martha said. “I hope you sleep really well. You’ve been looking a bit tired.”
Lois climbed the stairs, put on her pyjamas, and set her alarm for 2:45, hoping she would get there before Clark.
~~~~
From his own bed, Clark heard Lois’s alarm. He checked the time, jumped from bed, dressed and was in the barn in less than a second. He went into the storeroom and put on the electric kettle. Then he placed the blankets on the hay bales and very gently warmed them. He lowered his glasses to check on Bess and Daisy. Bess was standing under the tree with Daisy asleep a few feet away.
He walked over to the gate, ostensibly watching the cows, but in reality, he was listening to Lois’s footsteps as she approached the barn. He knew the exact moment she came through the door. “Hi,” he said, turning.
“You’re here early!” she accused, glaring at him, her eyes twinkling in the most attractive way.
“Sorry,” he said. “I thought a cup of hot chocolate would be nice. It’s definitely getting cooler at night.”
She laughed. “Hot chocolate is a great idea.”
“I’m forgiven?”
“This time.”
With a shared smile, they went into the storeroom to prepare the hot chocolate.
“How’s Bess?” Lois asked. “No sign of milk fever?”
“None at all. And Daisy is doing great, too.” He smiled again. “There’s no reason for either of us to be here.”
“No reason at all,” Lois agreed, not moving.
Clark made the hot chocolate, and they took them to the bales he’d prepared. They sat down together. They sipped their chocolate in easy silence.
When her mug was almost empty, Lois said, “Is there anything between you and Lana?”
Last edited by Female Hawk; 07/03/24 11:26 PM.
