On wheels. It’s fun to ride sometimes, when you don’t care how you smell.

Pa never told stories like Grandpa. Or treated the barn like family. Eli knew how Grandpa’s own pa had built the barn by hand, hauling bluestone for the foundation behind a stubborn ox with horns...

Little Joe was still behind him. Eli could feel it. He wanted to look back, but he couldn’t. The tears were too close. If he were Fancy, he’d turn around and kick and buck and...

Milkers don’t spend half as long with their mothers.” Eli spread his chore coat over Little Joe. “Not more than a few weeks. Sometimes one day. Maybe not even … If you were a peeper,...