"You’re getting rid of your car?"

"Yeah, it’s getting to be winter, and this thing is getting to be too old to trust, especially with all the miles we’re putting on it."

She frowned. "This came on kind of quick."

"Oh, I’ve been thinking about it for a while," he said. "Then Bob called me last night. We talked about our canoe trip next summer for a bit, and then he told me that one of the guys down at the feed mill is willing to trade me out of this heap for a newer Pontiac Sunbird, plus cash. Bob says it runs good, so we’re making the deal tonight."

Judy realized she hadn’t seen Bob Watson for weeks – or Lori, for that matter. "How’s he getting along with Lori away at Western?" she asked.

"Not well," Ken commented. "He keeps worrying that she’ll find someone else up there."

"As tight as they were before school started, you’d think there wouldn’t be much for him to worry about," Judy said. "Oh, well, only two more weeks till semester break, and then they’ll be together for a while. I suppose Western breaks about the same time we do. I’d like to see her again."

"How does she like it up there?"

"Oh, pretty well. She’s written me a couple of times, and she says she likes it. You know, I wish we could move up our plans to go there by a year."

"Why’s that, Crip?"

"The big thing is, the more I study the physical therapy program, the more I realize that I can’t finish it up at Western in two years on top of what I can get at Hinckley," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, it’s possible in principle, but I have to take full class loads and still a minimum of one summer semester. There’s only so much I can get from Hinckley, if I want to press on with physical therapy."

Ken thought for a moment. "Well, as far as the class work goes, I don’t suppose it makes any difference to me. I wasn’t sure I could handle college level courses. We haven’t gotten our grades yet, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be a problem. What’s your other reason?"

Judy shook her head. "I’m just getting awful tired of mother. I mean, every day, I get a lecture about how college is too hard on me, or I get bawled out because I don’t want to go out with Tommy Fetzer again, and she just won’t get off the subject. Even if we go to Western next fall, I don’t know how I’ll hold out until then."

"Think of the static you’ll get if you tell her you’re going to Western," Ken said unhappily.

"I know. I can hear it now." Judy launched off into a good imitation of her mother’s voice: "But Judith, dear, there will be just so many problems with living by yourself that you won’t be able to handle, I just don’t see how you can manage. I think you’d just better give up that idea and stay home where I can take care of you."

"Sure makes you want to introduce Sylvia to her, doesn’t it?" Ken laughed.

"Not really," Judy said. "She wouldn’t be willing to learn from what’s in front of her eyes." Judy stared out the windshield for a moment, lost in thought, before she went on. "Here’s an idea," she said. "Maybe the thing to do is to talk with Lori over Christmas."

"What’s that got to do with it?"

"Mother knows that Lori used to help me out a lot. Maybe, if we could get set up to be roommates up there, and she knows that you’d be around to help out, if needed, it might not bother her so much."

"It might work," Ken conceded. "But, you know what you ought to do is leave my part out of it. I think your mother kind of resents me for taking you away from her."

"She does," Judy nodded. "She won’t admit it, but she does. I just didn’t want to put it that way."

"Not surprising," Ken said, then changed back to the main subject. "Talk to Lori about it and see what she thinks. It’s not like we have to make a decision about it today."

"There’s no way we could," she said with a frown. "There’s the other problem: the money."

"Yeah," Ken agreed. "There’s a reason to go to Hinckley for another year; it costs so much less. I can stretch my savings further at Hinckley. Considering the farm and Dad’s health, I can’t ask my folks for another cent."

"Me either," Judy told him. "I know Daddy is stretching to give me what he does."

"We can save a little money working this spring and summer," Ken said, "And we need to look more seriously at scholarships and loans."

"True," Judy agreed.

"I’d hoped to avoid going into debt," Ken went on, "But I guess I’ll have to look into it."

"Oh, well," Judy sighed. "We’ve got eight months to solve that problem."

Judy was hoping for a white Christmas, but a couple days before the holiday the ground was still bare, and the weather reports were not promising. Without telling her mother, she and Ken spent the day driving up to Athens to check on the idea of going to school there the following fall. It was long after dark in the early winter evening when Ken dropped her off and went home.

"Judith, did you have a good time at Ken’s?" her mother wanted to know.

"We ate in town," Judy said, not mentioning what town it had been.

"You got some mail from the college," her father told her. "I think it’s your grades."

Judy stopped. All of a sudden, a curtain of worry came over her. She felt that her grades must have been good enough to make the "C" average that her father had said she had to maintain to stay in school – but now, at the moment of truth, she was afraid to find out. "Open it for me, will you Daddy?" she said. "I’m scared to look."

Norman took off his glasses and used one bow to open the envelope, then put his glasses back on to read the flimsy slip of paper. "Well, Judith, you didn’t get a ‘C’ average," he said flatly.

"I’m sorry, dear," Irene said, "but I warned you that might happen."

"You did get a B plus in freshman Biology," Norman said. "But the rest of your grades are all A’s."

Judy had never thought she would see her mother at a loss for words. It was beautiful.

Judy’s hopes of a white Christmas were not realized, but it was the only thing she found disappointing about the day.

She was still in her pajamas and robe when she came out of her room Christmas morning, to find several large boxes under the Christmas tree that hadn’t been there the night before. Opening Christmas presents was special for her, like so many other people, but in years past, her presents had run to books or sensible clothes. She had no idea what could be in such large boxes.

"Open that biggest one first," her father told her. "But be careful. It’s not packed too well."

Judy carefully took the wrapping off, opened the box, and dug through a huge pile of wadded up newspaper. As papers littered the floor, she found herself not believing what she found. "Daddy!" she cried finally, "How could you afford an Apple?"

"They upgraded the computer system at the office," Norman said. "And there’s no market for used machines, so I got a real deal on this one. This is the one that used to sit on Marjorie’s desk at the office."

"Oh, Daddy," Judy said, throwing her arms around him. "You’re wonderful!"

"Norman, I didn’t know you were going to do that," Judy’s mother said, a little uncertainly.

Norman smiled. "I knew she needed one, and this came up at just the right time. She ought to be able to use it in her studies. I know Marjorie liked to use it as a word processor."

"Sure, Daddy," Judy bubbled with excitement. "I can use it to write papers and things like that. Oh, thank you!"

The scattered wrapping had been picked up and everyone had gotten dressed when Ken appeared at the Niven door, carrying a large package. "Merry Christmas," he said.

"Ken, you didn’t have to do this," Judy replied. "I didn’t know you were getting me something."

"Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if you knew."

"Don’t just stand there, open it," Norman said. He knew what was in the package; Ken had asked his advice about it a couple months before.

The box was heavy. Ken carried it into the living room for Judy, who got down on the floor to take the wrapping off. "What’s this?" she asked when she got the package open. "It looks like a collection of motorcycle parts."

"Close, but no cigar," Ken replied. "Guess again."

Judy looked at the box again. There was a motorcycle-style handgrip, but nothing else she could describe. "I’m stumped," she said.

Irene looked over Judy’s shoulder and frowned. She had no idea, either, of what this present could be, but surely it couldn’t be good.

"I’ll give you a hint," Ken said. "The real reason I got rid of the Chevy was that it had a stick shift."

Judy frowned. What did that have to do with anything?

All of a sudden, comprehension flooded over her. "Ken, you wonderful guy, you," she said, throwing her arms around him.

What Ken had given her was a kit to convert a car to hand controls.

That ought to do it," Norman said. "See what happens when you gun it now."

Ken twisted the handgrip. He and Judy’s father had spent the morning in the Sorensen farm shop putting the hand controller on Ken’s Sunbird. "Seems to work all right," he said a moment later, and shut the engine off.

Norman began to wipe his hands on a grease rag. "Just one thing," he warned. "I know Judy’s been driving a tractor a lot, but this is going to be completely different, so she’ll be slow learning it."

"I know it’s going to be different," Ken replied. "I’m even going to have to learn how to drive with it. At least there’s nothing big to hit out in the pasture. We’ll practice out there for a while, and then go get her a learner’s permit."

Norman nodded. "Do me a favor, will you?"

"Sure."

"Don’t let her mother see her driving this. She’ll have a fit."

Ken nodded. "She had a big enough one as it was already."

"I think I’ve got her believing that Judy won’t use this much," Norman continued, "So let’s just let her think that."

"I’m sorry I touched off such a scene," Ken said, "But it seemed like the right thing to do."

"Oh, I’ve gotten used to it," Norman admitted, continuing to wipe his hands. "This has happened every so often since Judy has been going with you, and Judy and I have learned how to handle it. I’ve got so much to thank you for, I’m willing to put up with my wife."

"I don’t get it," Ken said.

Norman put down the grease rag. "You remember what Judy was like a year ago?"

Ken nodded, and Judy’s father continued. "I was beginning to worry if she’d ever become her own person, instead of just her mother’s doll, and there was nothing I could do that could change things. Then you came along. All I can say is, don’t stop now."

Ken and Judy only had a couple days to practice driving in the pasture before a real snowstorm came on New Year’s Eve. The next day, Ken didn’t want to risk his own limited skill with the hand controller on the slippery roads, so he borrowed Tom’s pickup and drove into town to see Judy. "Come on," he told her. "I’ve been waiting for some snow. I’ve got something special for us to do."

Judy was a little surprised to see Ken turn into the driveway of Tom’s house, right across the road from his parent’s home. Out in the barn, Ken went into a stall and led out Candybar, who was equipped with a horse collar, and a full set of harness complete with bells.

Ken led the horse into a side part of the barn, and Judy followed. A broad smile crossed her face when she saw Ken hitching the old horse to an old-fashioned sleigh.

"I had it all planned," Ken admitted. "I was going to borrow Roger Griswold’s horse trailer, take her into town with the sleigh in the pickup, and drive her up to the door to deliver the hand controller. But, the weather didn’t cooperate."

"Where did you get this?" Judy asked.

"I didn’t," Ken said. "It’s been in the family for at least a hundred years. At least, my grandfather used to say his grandfather remembered it as a boy. That puts it back a long way."

Candybar’s hooves made a faint mush-mush sound as she towed the sleigh down the lane, just the percussion needed to set Ken and Judy to singing, "Dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh . . . "

"This is beautiful," Judy exulted, stealing a quick kiss. "It’s just perfect. Doesn’t it make you sorry you’re not going to stay here?"

Ken nodded thoughtfully. "Times like this, it does," he admitted. "But, I’ve always known I never would be able to, so I’ve got to look at other things. Sometimes, I wonder if Tom will be able to stick it out."

"What do you mean?" Judy questioned. "I mean, this farm has been in your family for years."

"Six generations," Ken said, a little glumly. "Seven, if you count Tom as having taken it over, which, in practice, he has."

"Your father is still running the farm, isn’t he?"

Judy could see Ken shake his head and say, "Not since the corn planter fell on him."

"He’s getting around pretty good, now," Judy observed. "I mean, his leg is stiff, and he has to use a cane, but it’s better."

Ken stared out across the corn stubble for a minute. "No, there’s something else," he said finally. "He’s just so weak! I think there’s something else wrong, something new, but he won’t see a doctor. Says he’s seen enough doctors for a while."

Now it was Judy’s turn to be silent for a moment. Only the sound of Candybar’s bells and hooves broke the silence until she said, "Well, I hope he pulls out of it."

"I do, too,"

Judy changed the subject. "Why don’t you think Tom will be able to hold onto the farm?"

"I didn’t say he won’t be able to," Ken replied. "I’m just not sure he can."

"What’s the matter?"

Ken shrugged. "Same problems every other farmer has. Low prices, the bust in land values, mortgages, interest rates. You know."

Judy had been aware that times had been hard for farmers, but hadn’t been sure why. As Candybar towed them across the snow-covered landscape, Ken unfolded what he knew of the story. Parts of it, he knew from college, but most of it he had learned from having lived it.

At one time in the recent past, the Sorensen farm had been free of debt, and about a third its present size. "For years, farmers were being told, ‘Get big, or get out,’" Ken explained. "It was obvious. People used to be able to make a living on eighty acres. This eighty we’re on, right here, provided a living for a family for over a century. But then, farm prices fell, and the only way to make a living was to farm more land. To do that meant being more efficient, which meant bigger and more expensive machinery. They don’t give that stuff away. You could buy a real snazzy sports car for the cost of that John Deere 4630."

"Wow," Judy said wonderingly, as Candybar jingled her harness bells. Ken looked at Judy; her cheeks were turning pink. It was time to be heading back, and besides, he didn’t want to overstrain Candybar. He pulled on the reins, turning the sleigh, and continued his story.

Back while Tom had still been in high school, Chet Sorensen had realized that if Tom was ever going to be able to make a living off of the farm, it would have to expand. Some neighboring farmers weren’t too anxious to go down that road, and when their farms went on the market, Chet bought two of them up, adding 160 acres to his farm and Ed’s, which, combined, were already 240 acres in size. "You wouldn’t believe how high land prices were," Ken told his girlfriend. "He paid just over $1800 per acre for the Duck Farm. There was a saying, ‘Buy land, they aren’t making any more of it.’ Then, for a number of reasons, the bottom dropped out of the land market. Not just here, but all over the country. Dad would be lucky to get $800 an acre out of the Duck Farm today."

When the value of the land fell, Chet was left holding a huge mortgage on his purchased acreage, in the neighborhood of $300,000. With the value of the land only about half that, the bank screamed for more collateral; Chet’s only choice was to use the long-paid-for homestead land as collateral. "They made the payments this year, I think," Ken said. "But, one bad year, and there’ll be real trouble."

That wasn’t the end of the problems, Judy learned. "All in all, corn prices hold up pretty good, so the past few years, Dad and Tom have gone pretty heavy into corn. They went out and bought the 4630, and some new implements like the no-till corn planter, and none of that is paid for yet. Now, Tom’s talking about getting a new combine with a corn head, and that won’t be cheap. Dad has been against that, so far, but with me going to college and probably moving away pretty soon, he’s having second thoughts. On top of that, while you get good money out of corn, it costs, too. Corn’s hard on land, and you have to make that back up with fertilizer. That isn’t cheap. To get yields up to where they make a profit, you have to spray heavily to keep weeds and insects out, and that isn’t cheap, either."

"So what does it all mean?" Judy asked.

"It means that Tom doesn’t get to make many mistakes if the farm’s going to stay in the family," Ken told her. "And, he’s already made one real big one."

"What’s that?"

"He married the wrong girl. I don’t know what he sees in Carolyn, but I don’t think she’s worth much. If times get tough, she’s going to bug him, and he’ll throw in the towel rather than tough it out."

You want to drive?" Ken asked.

"Of course," Judy said. "Oh, and by the way, don’t let me forget to stop at the bookstore. I need some more floppy disks."

A mile out of Willow Lake, Ken pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out, and walked around so Judy could slide over behind the steering column.

Judy had gotten her driver’s license a month before. Ever since the weather had turned nice, she had usually driven, other than in Willow Lake where her mother might see her. Getting in enough experience to take her driver’s test had been hard, as Ken had driven all the slippery winter roads, but there were enough days that the pavement had been bare and dry that Judy had turned into a reasonably competent driver in the three months since Ken had given her the hand controller. As Ken walked around the car, he took in the warmth of the late March day. Any day now, and his studying would be cut into by spending time on a tractor seat.

Judy pulled the car out onto the road and got up to speed. It still seemed strange to Ken to sit on the right side of the car while she drove, but he was getting used to it. "Well, I guess we won’t be seeing Lori next week after all," Judy said.

Ken looked around absently. Off in a field to one side, a farmer was spreading fertilizer; Ken thought the field looked a little soft to be messing around like that. "How’s that?" he asked, proving he was paying at least a little attention to Judy.

"Dad says Bob is taking next week off. He and Lori are flying to Florida for spring break."

Ken perked up. "Now, that sounds like fun," he said. "Too bad we can’t afford it."

"It’d be nice," Judy said. "I’d like to get a head start on my tan."

"Sounds like Lori would, too," Ken replied. "Funny. Bob didn’t mention it when I talked to him about our canoe trip a couple weeks ago. Guess he’ll have to take another week of vacation time for it."

"They must have gotten the idea all of a sudden," Judy said. "When I talked to Lori the other day, you know, when she said she’d gotten things set up to be my roomie next year, she didn’t mention it, either."

"I was going to ask you about that," Ken said. "Did she say she got everything worked out?"

Judy nodded. "It’s all settled, not that it matters. It’ll just give mother something less to get upset about."

"Yeah," Ken said. "I’m glad that grant fell right into place for you, too. I’m even going to have a little more money, too."

"How’s that?"

Ken smiled. "I put the screws to Tom last night. I told him he’d better plan on paying me the going wage, rather than just some money when he feels like it, or else I’m going to get a real job."

"What did he say about that?"

"Let’s just say he wasn’t real happy about it. I just told him that he’d better get used to it, because the time was coming when he wasn’t going to have us around to help out, whether he liked it or not."