He was awake with earliest daylight, and lay staring at the thin dawn
that lurked behind curtain-draped windows. It was a happy awakening, and
the day held more true promise than any Joe could remember. He had, he
felt as he lay beside Emma, been born all over again. But he had hurdled
childhood and been born as a wholly new kind of man with nothing mean or
petty in his life. Emma stirred beside him and Joe's hand stole out to
clasp hers. For a moment they lay side by side, anticipating
events-to-be by living their greatest adventure in their minds.
After breakfast Joe and Tad skidded more seasoned oak and hickory logs
in from the wood lot. He took the box from his wagon and drove the
stripped-down wagon up beside the logs. Loading them was really a
two-man job, but one man could do it.
Joe slanted and braced two short logs against the wagon and used his
peavey to roll one of the heavier logs toward them. He rolled one end a
short way up one of the leaning logs and braced it with a chunk of wood.
Going to the other end, he rolled that up and blocked it. By alternating
ends, and rolling each a short way at a time, he finally loaded the log
onto the wagon. Tad stood impatiently near.
"I'll help you, Pa."