Chapter 11

⁠​​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​​​​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​​⁠The car was puttering up the lane, a trailer hitched behind. It was a day in early October. Ellen drew back from sight, hearing Craig Hedrick’s high-pitched halloa. Anton was coming from the barnyard where, with Sam, he had been forking manure onto the wagon for broadcasting over the fields. Ellen fled along the fence line, down to the pond and the tranquil woods beyond. “I aim to get a mess of sh