Disclaimer: Couldn't you let me claim it just this once? No? Even though pretty much every character in here is mine? Still no? Fine, be that way.
Author's Note: Rule of the farm: misadventures are all kinds of hilarious as long as nothing expensive gets broken...personal injuries do not necessarily take the fun out of it. Take my dad, for instance, who once ran himself over with a tractor, he's never going to hear the end of it (and that ought to answer a few questions some of you might have regarding my mental processes).
...
DG listened to the engine roar as she opened up the throttle; tires crunching on the gravel road, wind whipping in her hair, the twelve year old tasted freedom as she tore down the road, the world rushing past in a myriad of colours and blurs. She was one with the machine, she was speed, she was lightening...
...she was exaggerating like crazy. The old tractor was barely grumbling its way past 30mph, she could hardly feel the breeze squeezing through the slightly cracked window, and she sat in constant danger of being rattled right out of her seat. The fact that she wasn't supposed to take The Beast out on the road, however, lent just enough of a rebel factor to make up for the tractor's complete lack of zoom, much less zoom-zoom. There was just one thing she truly wished for at the moment.
"Let the air flow through you!" the girl howled, banging a fist futilely against the jammed window, desperate for some relief from the already sweltering temperatures of the cab. The greenhouse effect was just so inconvenient sometimes. Was that a stop sign?
She didn't have a chance to find out because a second later she became infinitely more preoccupied by the car that had suddenly appeared in front of her. DG froze in panic, The Beast, on the other hand, had no problem meeting this challenge. The front end of the opposing car slammed down, the world tilted crazily, tossing the twelve year old to the side as the tractor's right tires left a tread across the car's hood and smashed a deep dent in its cab. Then life got a bit spin-y as physics took to working out the various trajectories of force and mass. The Beast jounced once, twice, as the wheels came down off the trunk; DG was thrown from her seat as the tractor hit the ditch, slanting dangerously on two wheels before coming to rest at an awkward angle on one of Papa Gulch's fence lines.
Extricating herself from where she'd been wedged between the steering column and control panel, DG glanced out the back window in search of her co-winner of the accidental game of chicken only to find Officer Gulch kicking his way through the smashed safety glass of his cruiser's windshield. Fighting his way free, the cop hit the ground at a dead sprint, reaching the tractor in mere moments, climbing hastily aboard and wrenching the door open. He didn't look particularly surprised to see her, a myriad of expressions passing over his face before his lips settled into a thin, firm line.
"You alright?" he growled, looking her over from top to bottom, "Good," he grumbled as she nodded, "'cause I'm going to strangle you. Come on," he directed, reaching a hand down to help her out of the ruined cab.
Using the seat armrests as footholds, DG climbed out of the tractor whilst contemplating whether to inform him that his head was bleeding only to find that the good sense everyone claimed she didn't have advised against speaking. While listening to this good sense was something of a novel experience for the twelve year old, she was infinitely glad she had the moment she got a good look at the policeman's cruiser, what was left of it anyway.
"I'm sorry," DG blurted out, looking up at the cop with a big blue-eyed gaze that was every bit as sincere as it was guaranteed to get her off the hook.
But Officer Gulch merely looked at her, a muscle twitched in his jaw as he glanced from the haphazardly 'parked' tractor to his ruined vehicle where it had received its final blow from an inconveniently placed fencepost, and he turned silently to limp off in the direction of his parents' homestead. Chewing her lip in concern, the twelve year old followed hesitantly after. The policeman didn't say a word the entire walk back, DG had the uneasy feeling that she might really be in trouble this time.
"Elmer what...DG," Mama Gulch exclaimed upon their arrival, somehow managing to mix a warm welcoming with the motherly scolding in her tone. "Dear," she called into the house as she ushered them inside, "Elmer's brought DG over."
"I'll grab the first aid kit," Papa Gulch hollered back from somewhere upstairs.
"How'd he know we'd need the first aid kit?" DG wondered as Officer Gulch attempted to brush past his mother into the kitchen.
"Someone always needs it when you visit, DG," Mama Gulch responded, snagging her son's arm on his way by, "and where do you think you're going?" she demanded.
"I have to make some calls," the cop replied shortly.
"Not until you tell me why your head's bleeding and let me have a look at it, you don't," his mother informed him, "And don't you glare at me, young man," she added sternly, "Now how about you tell me what happened."
"What happened," the cop ground out, "is that someone drove a f-"
"Elmer!" his dad barked, making his way into the room.
"-udging tractor over my g-"
"Elmer!"
"-osh walloping cruiser!" Officer Gulch almost snarled out of sheer frustration.
"She ran you over?" Papa Gulch repeated incredulously while DG considered giggling over the policeman's increasingly garbled sentence. Alas, her newly discovered voice of reason declared such an action to be inadvisable, made her a bit uneasy that, she had an odd feeling that voices weren't to be trusted.
"Cruiser's wrecked, tractor could be, too," the policeman confirmed grimly as his mother finally gave up on waiting for him to cooperate and just forced him to let her examine the cut, "we're lucky there were no serious injuries...yet," he contemporized, "Now would you please let me go perform my duty and call in the accident?"
"Fine," Mama Gulch said, releasing him, "but you are going to let me take care of that cut when you are done," she ordered, "Now, DG, let me have a look at you."
Watching mournfully as the cop strode purposefully out of the room without so much as glancing in her direction, the twelve year old muttered woefully, "Officer Gulch is mad at me."
"Oh he's not mad at you," his mother assured her as she began to inspect the girl's various scrapes and bruises.
"She ran him over with a tractor, dear," Papa Gulch pointed out.
"He's just a bit upset..."
"His cruiser is wrecked, dear."
"I don't know what's wrong with him; he usually takes your adventures in better part..."
"You know, the cruiser that he spent half a year restoring because they couldn't afford to buy him a new one, dear?"
"...usually they make for a rather humorous story by the time he gets home..."
"His entire life probably passed before his eyes, dear, which would have involved a fair few highlights of DG's, er, exploits."
"...I don't know what's eating him..."
"He only just got back to active duty since their last misadventure, dear."
"...he must have had a bad day at work," Mama Gulch concluded as she fixed the last bandage in place.
"Whatever you say, dear," Papa Gulch agreed mildly.
DG stifled a giggle and wondered which, if any, of the two conversations she should respond to.
"Well I'm just glad no one was seriously injured," Mrs. Gulch stated, giving the girl a brief hug, "There, that's you looked after, now to track down that son of mine...where do you think you're going?"
Both her husband and her twelve year old neighbour froze guiltily in place. "Home?" DG replied hesitantly after a moment, she was pretty sure Momster and Popsicle would have begun to worry about her by now.
"Oh no, you're not," Officer Gulch's Momster refuted, "I'll call Hank and Emily to let them know where you – and their tractor – are, you are going to go clean the barn."
"But..."
"But nothing," Mama Gulch told her firmly, "you are twelve years old, young lady, and that is more than old enough to take responsibility for your own actions. You may not be the first farm kid to take their daddy's tractor out for a spin, nor are you likely to be the last, but the consequences of your particular joyride are landing on other people so you are going to do what you can to make up for it. The pitchfork and wheelbarrow are by the barn door, just make a pile in the laneway, Elmer can scoop it up with the tractor later. Now get to it."
DG didn't even think of arguing. Mrs. Gulch had that look to her that all mothers get when they mean to be obeyed, and Mama Gulch happened to be one of those mothers that could get any kid to toe the line with nothing but a single glance. And all things considered, she did deserve it, DG considered dejectedly as she wrestled the barn doors open, she had just destroyed a cop car and potentially wrecked an expensive piece of farm equipment all for a silly thrill after all, no wonder Officer Gulch was mad at her. Sighing, the twelve year old set to work making what amends she could.
The task was more than a little daunting; the barn obviously hadn't been cleaned in quite some time – one of those things that had fallen by the wayside while the cop had been recovering from his last visit to the ER. DG made a mental note to swing by and lend a hand the next time she accidentally hospitalized the policeman, it really was the least she could do.
She didn't know how long she'd been working before she happened to look up and see Officer Gulch standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the frame, watching her work. The silence was beginning to bother DG, the cop was generally all kinds of loud when she got up to mischief, scolding here, exclaiming there, always having something to say, not like this quiet...disappointment.
"I'm sorry," the twelve year old mumbled miserably, fidgeting with the pitchfork.
Another moment of silence passed. "Hank's tractor is reparable," the policeman said at last, "When you're done here you can come join me in the machine shop, I figure since you broke it you might as well help fix it. Oh, and brat," he added as he straightened up and turned to leave, "put these on before you give yourself blisters."
Catching the gloves he'd tossed her, DG slipped them on with a relieved sigh and returned to her task with renewed vigour. She had well over half a barn to clean yet, and it was going to be a good few hours before she was going to get anywhere near that tractor, but the twelve year old couldn't help but hum as she hefted another wheelbarrow load onto the steadily growing pile. Apology accepted.
