It was a good ache, watching their reunion, Ezra and the puppy. That dog had gotten Ezra outside after all.

The sheep stood in the snow, packed together like a giant ball of wool.

“These are ewes,” I said.

“You’s?” Ezra asked. “Like you’s and me’s?”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “Ewes are female sheep. Remember?”

Ezra’s eyes teased. He stared at the sturdy barrels of wool. Breathed a little deeper. “They smell kind of warm and greasy,” he said.

“That’s the lanolin in their wool.”

“Are they cold?”

“Would you be if you were wearing a coat like that?”

“A little, maybe,” Ezra said.

“Exactly how they feel.”

“I used to wonder,” Ezra said, “what it would be like, living outside all the time. That was before—” Ezra shivered and drew his shoulders in toward his chest. The mask fluttered.

“These girls are hungry, Ezra,” I said gently.

“So feed them.” He sounded tired and cranky. “Aren’t they your responsibility?”

“We’re out of hay. We have to go back to the barn and fill the pickup.”

Ezra’s eyes lit up. “We drive the truck?”

I took his hand and pulled him back toward the house and the barn and Gran’s beat-up old Ford, parked inside the tractor shed.

Ezra walked with wonder around the pieces of farm equipment sitting in the bays. “You never told me about this stuff.”

It had been right outside his window.

“You never asked.”

“Oh, man,” Ezra said, putting down the radiation detector to run his gloved hands over the shiny metal fenders of the tractors. He stroked the hard black seats.

“You know how to drive?” I asked.

Ezra’s eyes danced. “You mean drive one of these?”

“You can drive the truck for starters. As long as you promise not to run it into a ditch. I’ll get the hay loaded.”

I backed the truck inside the barn and untied the rope holding the rusty tailgate.

Ezra started toward the nearest stack of hay.

“Not that,” I called. “That’s first cutting.” I pointed to the greenish mountain of hay bales toward the back of the barn. “We’ll use second cutting today.”

Ezra tried helping with the hay. The mask slipped down around his neck. He didn’t notice. He seemed to have forgotten about radiation for the moment. Even though he hardly had the strength, he struggled, working beside me. Ezra moved one bale to my four.

With the truck loaded, he squatted, trying to catch his breath. He nuzzled the puppy’s huge head. “Can he ride in the truck with us?”

“No, he can not ride in the truck with us. The back is full of hay and he’s too big to sit in the cab. He’ll follow along behind, with Caleb. Got it?”

“Got it,” Ezra agreed.

“Okay,” I said. “You want me to drive her first so you can see how it’s done?”

Ezra hesitated. He wanted behind that wheel in the worst way.

“Climb in,” I ordered.

I adjusted the throttle on the old pickup. Pushed in the clutch and the brake, and turned the key. The truck snorted once and died. Pulling out the throttle a little farther, I tried again. This time when the truck snorted, I gave it a little more gas and it roared to life. I flashed Ezra the thumbs-up sign. He returned the gesture. The puppy backed away, barking. But Caleb trotted calmly ahead. He knew the routine.