Seeing his two sons standing just behind, one on each side, made him proud. They were fine kids, he thought, but something, somewhere, had gone wrong.
They were strong, able. Always ready to help. Leastways, they always used to be.
Could be, it was their age made them look inside themselves too much. Could be the coming of the railroad? Could be I haven't given them enough guidance?
"Everyone needs a father's hand, don't they?" he said aloud. "The Lord knows I've needed His merciful hand enough times!"
"What?" asked Cole.
Yellowed raindrops flushed ground dust off the window pane.