Honor in work well done (Cumberland Saga)

With nothing to do, Blain watched Sig and the crew shoveling shit out of the back of the trailer as Lliam inched it forward.

By now, Blain had worked with a shovel long enough to have some opinions of his own. Watching Sig work, he knew that he was in the presence of a master, a man honed by days, nay, months and years of practice with a shovel.

No motion was hurried or jerky. The scoop of the shovel never cleared the side of the trailer by more than an inch.

The manure fanned out evenly and settled to the ground in a tall, elongated, slanted “f” shape.

Every toss was a perfect repeat of the one before. Calligraphy writ with shit and a shovel.

Then Blain realized that Roger had a hand in Sig’s perfection. Roger must have used his time to fluff-up and homogenize the shit when he was mixing in the pulverized limestone. The people spreading the shit were able to insert their shovels with no more effort than if it had been dried cornflakes.

Blain guessed that Roger had also spent ample amounts of time behind a shovel, too.

Blain was keeping an eye on the time and it was fully a half-hour before Sally came roaring back up the drive with his first load of manure.

Pulling up to Blain, he asked, “Where do you want me to start?”

Blain thought “Damn, I should have anticipated that question.”

“Gimme a second” Blain said, and then he trotted over to the trailer and hopped aboard. Sig felt the bounce of Blains weight and turned to see who had joined them.

“Whaddya want?” Sig said impatiently. He had been in-the-groove shoveling and the tractor didn’t stop moving.

“Quick question” Blain said. “Which garden plot should Sally start on if we are to get a little bit of fertilizer on the plots owned by folks not in this row?” Blain said, pointing at the line of plots Lliam was inching his way up.

Sig’s impatience melted off his face. It took about two seconds for him to reach a decision.

“Tell ‘im to start on the other side of the two-track, second plot in.” Sig said.

Blain repeated “Other side of two-track, second plot in.” hopped off the back of the trailer and trotted back to Sally. Beckoning with a come-hither motion, Blain trotted over the the plot Sig had indicated.

Blain dropped the tailgate and like magic, a crew of teenagers showed up, shovels in hand and started spreading shit as Sally starting slowly moving parallel to the main two-track that traveled along the spine of almost-level ground that held the Cove’s cultivated ground.

Two hours after Gregor and Roger had left, the first trailer was empty. Blain was deeply worried by how slowly the process was going. He was also distressed that the trailer had only gotten six garden-plots down the two-track before running out of manure. By his calculations, they should have made it fifteen-or-sixteen plots if they were spreading it at the agreed-upon rate.

Blain conferred with Sarah. “What should I do? I promised Sig that we would just put on enough to double the crop from 30-to-60 bushel and acre and they are spreading on more than twice that?”

Sarah walked over and kicked at the almost invisible trace of chicken-shit and bedding atop the soil of her plot. Looking back at Blain, she said, “Sometimes it is easier to spread butter thick rather than thin. Will it harm to spread it thick?”

Blain shook his head “I don’t think so.”

“Sig knows what the plan was. You can bring it up at lunch” Sarah suggested.

While the other shovelers had been “relieved” Sig stayed in the trailer shoveling like a machine. He had switched from shoveling from the left side of the trailer to shoveling from the right side on-the-hour. His calligraphy was just as impressive regardless of the direction he was tossing.

“This isn’t going very fast” Blain fretted.

“It is going faster than if we counting on the pigeons to fertilize the fields” Sarah said philosophically, using the Cove’s term for mourning doves and starlings.

Lliam’s turn-around time was 25 minutes.

Sally’s trailer was empty in 45 minutes and he had a 30 minute turn-around. Blain suspected that Sally had been gabbing with Gregor at the bottom of the hill while his shovelers were waiting for him.

Blain was frustrated that he could not be everywhere.

While Lliam was getting his third load, Blain went over to chat with Sig.

“I hate bosses who micro-manage” Blain started out. “A lot of times, the guy doing the work sees things the boss don’t.”

Sig stared steadily at Blain, his face devoid of all emotion and feedback.

“So, when we made this agreement, I wanted more than one trailer-load of chicken-shit per acre but that is what we agreed upon. The only reason I am bringing up that you are spreading more...a LOT more than that is because I don’t wanna be sneaky and let something slide that you might not be aware of” Blain said.

For him, that was a long speech to a man he was still intimidated by.

Sig nodded. “I know how much we are shoveling.”

“One-load-per acre don’t FEEL like enough to make a difference. If we are going to pull people away from their regular chores for two, full days I want it to be enough to make it worth the effort” Sig said.

Blain simply said “Thanks”, turned and walked away. It was something he had learned from Sarah and Lliam.

Part-way through the morning, Blain looked over and saw one of the young ladies from his Algebra class driving Sally’s tractor and Sally was standing on the ground jabbering to the kids who were waiting their turn to shovel.

Blain caught Lliam glancing back at Sally’s tractor and noticed that the driver of Sally’s tractor seemed to be very aware of where Lliam’s tractor was.

Aha! The two were “interested” in each other and Blain knew they were both very competitive individuals.

Blain went over to Sally’s tractor and asked the driver to slow the engine so he could talk. “I have you pegged as a really smart girl” he started out. “Is there any way you can ‘slick-up’ how you get the next trailer of fertilizer to maybe make it go a little faster?”

After she had picked up her first load, Blain went over to Lliam’s tractor and signaled that he should slow the engine so he could talk. “I timed Peggy and she was able to get a load of manure in 19 minutes. I don't want ya to do anything crazy, but do you think you can match that?”

Lliam nodded his head. Anything Peggy could do, he was sure he could do better.