"Everybody jump! Best ride! Last ride! Your turn."
I helped Steph and the kids settle.
"I drive. Name's Jebediah Otis Fielding or call Scratch."
He wore an oversized straw hat, overalls, and a flannel. He had hay coming out of his sleeves, his collar, and his pants.
"Hold hard, peoples! Ride go now!" He scratched his belly.
Scratch punched it, pointing out things as we went. Duck pond. Fresh round bales. A pumpkin patch.
"Look! The Hall of Scarecrows. No scared. Not real. Thirteen each year." Scratch scratched his neck.
We counted the scarecrows as we went.
"One, two, three," we all yelled.
The kids started to giggle.
"Four, five...six."
We turned a corner.
"Seven, eight, nine, ten."
Scratch turned too fast. We all rolled around.
"Eleven, twelve. Twelve? Twelve!"
"Scratch, you said there were thirteen!" a girl yelled.
"There am!" Scratch slammed the brakes. We went flying. His shoulders dropped. His head hung low. "I guess my turn's over, folks."
Scratch dismounted the tractor, shuffled to an empty post, and climbed up. He stretched out his arms and went limp.
I couldn't stop myself. I rushed to the tractor and hopped on. "Hold hard, peoples! Ride go now!"
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