They Laughed When a 16-Year-Old Farm Girl Bought 60 “Ruined” Feed Sacks for $15 — Then the Worst Winter in 40 Years Hit

Chapter 7

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Covered exposed section with insulation.

Thirty-seven minutes outside.

Back inside, Emma could not feel two fingers.

Sarah put her hands beneath lukewarm water.

“You are never doing that alone.”

“I know.”

“Say it.”

“I know.”

“No.”

Emma sighed.

“I will never go outside in a blizzard alone.”

“Good.”

The storm intensified.

By morning, roads closed.

Interstate shut down.

Feed deliveries stopped.

Power failed in several areas.

Walker Farm remained powered by generator after noon.

Emma rationed fuel.

House thermostat down.

Unnecessary circuits off.

Barn priority.

Cattle stayed behind windbreaks.

They ate hay.

Then grain blend.

Emma watched body condition obsessively.

Cold cattle required energy.

Her salvaged grain became suddenly valuable.

Not perfect feed.

Energy.

Calories.

Stored.

Dry.

Available.

By the third day, neighbors began calling.

First Harold Jensen from two miles east.

“Emma?”

“Yes?”

“You got power?”

“Generator.”

“My well’s frozen.”

“You need water?”

“Got enough today.”

Pause.

“You got feed?”

Emma looked toward the granary.

“Some.”

“How much?”

“Why?”

Another pause.

“My delivery never came.”

Emma knew Harold ran forty-two cows.

“How long can you go?”

“Hay through tomorrow morning.”

“After?”

“Corn stalk field.”

Emma looked out at the blizzard.

“No.”

Harold sighed.

“I know.”

Emma said:

“Road between us drifted?”

“Bad.”

“Tractor maybe?”

“Not yet.”

Emma thought.

“When wind drops, call.”

“You selling?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Emma.”

“Yes?”

“I laughed about those sacks.”

She said nothing.

Harold continued.

“Back in October.”

“I remember.”

“I’m sorry.”

Emma looked at the grain bin.

“Call when the wind drops.”

The next call came from someone she did not expect.

Earl Mercer.

“Walker Farm?”

Emma almost smiled.

“This is Emma.”

“Yeah.”

“I know.”

Wind howled behind his voice.

“What do you need?”

Silence.

Earl cleared his throat.

“Your mom there?”

“Yes.”

“Can I talk to her?”

Emma’s jaw tightened.

“About?”

“Feed.”

“Talk to me.”

Another silence.

“I heard you got some grain stored.”

Emma looked at Caleb.

He had heard.

His eyes widened.

Emma said:

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They Laughed When a 16-Year-Old Farm Girl Bought 60 “Ruined” Feed Sacks for $15 — Then the Worst Winter in 40 Years Hit

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