Organically Yours: Sanctuary, Book Five Abbie Zanders (classic fiction TXT) 📖

Tina Obermacher, the more interested he was. And if Kate could get her to come to Sanctuary? Even better.

“Great,” Mad Dog said. “We can use all the help we can get.” He patted the back quarter panel. “All right, everything’s secure. We’re good to go.”

Doc glanced back toward the old pickup, now on its way out the back gate reserved for vendors. With any luck, he’d be seeing Tina Obermacher again soon.

Chapter Three

Tina

Running the orchards was a year-round job, but some seasons were busier than others. Things started ramping up in the spring and then built to a peak in summer and early fall before dropping off again.

March was typically the time to prune existing trees, plant new ones, and fertilize, but exactly when work could be done depended on the weather. This year, winter seemed reluctant to let go of its icy grip on the region, so it was important to make the most of every good day.

Tina had been making her rounds, checking on the state of things and growing angrier with each section she visited. At least half the trees hadn’t been pruned yet, and the new trees she’d ordered were still waiting to be put in the ground.

By the time she hit the peach grove, she was fuming.

“Eddie!” she called out, spotting her supervisor hanging around the equipment shed along with several guys. Guys who should have been out planting and pruning. Instead, they didn’t seem to be doing anything besides shooting the breeze.

Eddie turned and saw her, his face morphing into the expression she knew so well—irritation. He worked the ever-present chew between his teeth and gums before spitting off to the side. “Yeah?”

She waved toward the stationary compact utility tractor and the three dozen newly delivered young peach trees ready to go. “Why aren’t those in the ground yet? You know we can’t let those roots freeze.”

“Tractor’s acting up.”

The tractor had been fine three days earlier when she hooked up the backhoe attachment and used it to clear debris from blocked drainage channels—something else Eddie should have taken care of but hadn’t.

“What’s wrong with it?”

He turned his head and spit again. “Ain’t a mechanic, am I?”

Some of the guys behind him smirked.

“You sure as hell aren’t,” she agreed, earning a glower.

Eddie had spent enough time around equipment that he should know how to diagnose and fix common problems, but he was more likely to stand back and offer his unsolicited—and often incorrect—opinion rather than actually do something. Letting Rick talk her into putting Eddie on her team had been a decided lack of judgment on her part. She wished Fritz’s arthritis hadn’t forced him to retire. She’d never had to worry about things getting done with Fritz in charge.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. They had jobs to do. Growing superior peaches in the upper regions of Pennsylvania was hard enough. She didn’t need Eddie’s crap, too.

She offered a tight smile and asked the obvious, “Did you remember to put it in neutral and close the choke?”

His shoulders stiffened. “Now, look here—”

“No, you look. I’ll check out the tractor. You grab some shovels and wheelbarrows and get started on those trees.”

“By hand?”

“Yes, by hand.”

“The ground’s frozen.”

Oh, for Pete’s sake. She took a shovel from the shed and drove it through the light covering of snow and into the soil. Then, she put her booted foot on the edge and gave it a good shove, putting her weight into it. A lift and twist brought up dirt along with the snow.

“It’s workable enough. And those trees need to go in today.”

“All of them?”

Lord, give me patience. “Yes, all of them.”

Getting thirty-six trees into the ground shouldn’t be a problem with everyone she had working even if she couldn’t get the backhoe operational right away. She scanned the work crew now shuffling into the shed, counting four behind Eddie. There should have been seven.

“Where’s the rest?”

Head turn, spit. A dribble of spittle hung on his bottom lip. It was no wonder the guy was still single.

“With Kief.”

Her brother Kiefer was in charge of the vegetable fields, and as far as she knew, there was nothing pressing going on there. “Doing what?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Rick said he needed them.”

Tina’s ire increased. Unless it was an emergency, she needed them working on the orchards more than whatever her brother had them doing. She’d deal with Rick later—after she took a look at the tractor. Hopefully, it was a quick fix and something that could be handled on-site. Two other machines were already in the shop, and she couldn’t afford to go without for the week or more it would take to have someone else fix it.

“More work for you then, huh? Better get started.”

They grumbled, Eddie in particular, but she stared them down until they started moving. She’d learned early on not to back down, or they’d walk all over her.

They didn’t like taking orders from a woman. She got that. She didn’t care. She was an Obermacher first, a female second. As long as she ran the orchards, they worked for her.

Only when they went into the shed to grab shovels and pickaxes and wheelbarrows did she pull the toolbox from the back of her truck. When she was younger, she’d spent hours tinkering in the garage with her grandfather while her father and brothers were out in the fields, and she had picked up a thing or two about improvisational repair.

As she was passing the door, she heard one of the crew say, “Man, I feel sorry for any man who has to deal with her every day.”

Another laughed. “Yeah, well, we won’t have to deal with her for much longer from what I heard.”

Tina paused and listened, but they said no more before they moved away.

What did they know—or think they knew—that she didn’t?

She shook her head and chalked it up to pure speculation. Everyone knew there’d been offers to buy up their farmland; that was nothing new. Developers had been wanting to strip