Over His Head. Carolyn McSparren

      “Logging? With horses?”

      “Yessiree.” At that point Phineas stepped up, pulled off his glove and shook hands not only with Tim but with Angie. He nodded and stepped back without saying a word.

      “Us Cobbs been logging with draft horses four generations I know about. You want to cut and sell a few hardwoods out of the middle of your woods to buy you some seed for spring, call on Cobbs. We’ll bring in ole Henry and Herb here. Once we’re finished cutting and moving the logs out, you won’t never know we’d been in your woods, ’cept maybe the boys’ll leave you some piles of fertilizer.” He chortled. “Course you got to get in line. Me and Phineas, here, we’re pretty well booked up into next spring.”