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Show 51 "Too fat," my father said shortly. "You see which way they went?" "On up toward town. They prob'ly been hit by two or three cars by this time." Dad looked at him sharply, then turned toward the field. "Looks like your corn'11 make." "It or the weeds, one of the two." "That team of yours could use some oats, Buck." "Nope. What I need's a new team." "You feed that team oats you'd get enough more work out of 'em you'd be ahead in the long run." "Hell, those plugs don't know what oats is. I go and give 'em oats, they'd keel over and die from the surprise." My father grinned too. "Yeah, well, guess we'd better find them horses. Come on, boys." We got back in the pickup and drove on toward town. We had three heavy young teams, an older team which could do light work, and a John Deere tractor to boot. I saw the horses. I was watching the CCC camp as we drove past it and remembering my father and my uncle talking-my uncle saying it looked like an army to him, uniforms and barracks, and my father saying Roosevelt wasn't so dumb, that if there was a war the CCC boys would lay down their shovels and pick up guns-and just past the camp was a side'road and down it were the horses. We lured them with oats, bridled them and swung up to ride bareback, Davy on Billy and me on Ace. Alongside the highway we let them out, then pulled in to an easy gallop, then down to a trot. They really were too fat, not ridden enough with the summer work on us. Buck saw us coming, got down from the cultivator and walked over to the fence. When we pulled up, he was rolling a cigarette, |