Photo Credit: © Can Stock Photo / JNix
No one thought there would be an October frost that early for what had been a warm end of September, but it came just the same. Kerry Daniels had awoken late to the damp smell of dewy grass from melted frost and thanked the Lord that he worked for a man who valued rest enough that he gave every other weekend a “late start” designation and let the bunkhouse “sleep in.”
He rousted about and dressed, eventually prodding the others to “shake it awake.” Mrs. Bronson, the owner’s wife, would rustle up a big breakfast on Saturdays, and from the smell of bacon drifting out of the house, today would be no exception.
John-Paul, the owner’s youngest boy, had been watching Kerry’s approach from the window and met him at the door. “Mornin’, Kerry,” the young Bronson said, trying to make his voice sound deep and authoritative. Kerry knew of the boy’s admiration and always played the part for the kid. Though he was an “A” student with a lot of promise, the rancher stamp was clearly upon this 11-year old and his future was clear. “How do, Bossman?” Kerry returned with a playful punch to John-Paul’s shoulder.