for outside, she put the girls’ snow pants on. She had remembered to pack Dean’s in the car when they left the Airbnb yesterday. Another thing her foster parents had always pounded into her. Anytime she headed out in the vehicle, they always made sure she packed toque, mitts, and snow pants. The one time she had deemed it unnecessary, she had hit the ditch and was stranded for a couple of hours, freezing with bare hands, thin blue jeans, and no toque.
She never forgot after that.
It was still snowing outside as they walked down the driveway toward the large shop where Adele assumed the tractor was parked.
She stepped inside the building and her heart dropped when she saw how huge the thing was. Did she really think she could drive it?
From the looks of the size of the cab, all the kids would fit.
She pulled on the chain, hand over hand, to raise the large overhead door. Cold air swirled inside the heated shop. At least the tractor was warm.
"My turn by the window," Maya announced as they walked toward it.
Adele didn't know which window she was talking about. The cab had windows on all sides. But they clearly had a plan as she climbed up the narrow steps to open the heavy door.
She helped the twins up the stairs, and Maya scooted behind the driver's seat to a makeshift bench on the housing, covered with a blanket. Maria sat beside her then looked past Adele to Dean.
"You sit between us," Maya announced, pushing her sister over and making room herself. It was a bit tight, despite the size of the tractor. Adele was sure the manufacturers didn't figure on three little children as passengers, but it worked.
"You girls are amazing," Adele said with a grin as she set herself in the seat, familiarizing herself with the controls. There were lots of them, but she understood the basic ones.
With another quick prayer, she turned it on, and with a roar and a plume of smoke billowing out of the exhaust, the tractor started. It chugged along, knocking for a few minutes, and then another roar and it kicked down.
She eased it out of the shop to let it run for a few minutes outside, letting it warm up. While she did, she looked around the yard, scoping it out. She saw the piles of hay bales she would need to retrieve, noticed where the gate was that she'd have to go through.
"Okay, kids, I need to get out to close the door," she said.
"Don't touch anything," Maria interrupted her, holding up a finger. They must have been told this before.
She had to smile as she got out. She made quick work of closing the door, then got back in.
Scootching up on the seat to reach the pedals, she put the tractor in gear, backed up, and headed toward the bales. It took her a bit to figure out the controls for the front-end loader but soon she had a bale loaded and was headed toward the gate.
A few moments later, she was out of the tractor and opening the gate, watching the cows with a wary eye. When she helped her foster father feed the cows, she was always terrified that they would come barreling towards the open gate, heading for freedom.
But Earl would just laugh at her, reassuring her that the last thing the cows wanted was their freedom. They were hungry, and even if they got out, they would follow her back to the feeders.
She drove through the gate, shut it behind them, and clambered back up in the tractor again. Seriously, she thought, this climbing up and down the stairs would be a workout.
She drove toward the feeder, then had to slow down as the cows gathered around the tractor. She got the bale dumped into the feeder, pleased at how well it went.
"Does your daddy have a knife to cut the strings?" Adele asked, turning back to the kids who were sitting there, looking around, quite content to just sit. Good kids, she thought.
"Up there," Maria said, pointing to where a leather sheath was screwed up beside the doorway. Adele grabbed the knife out of there, then turned to the kids. She had to leave the tractor running again.
"Remember what we talked about before? You kids have to stay exactly where you are," she warned, underlining her statement with the lift of a finger. "Don't touch a thing."
"No touching," Maria repeated. "Daddy says so too."
"You