Getting the barrels home proved harder than buying them. Glen agreed to lend a flatbed and trailer between his own hauling jobs, partly because Earl had helped him repair farm equipment for years without keeping score. Together they learned how many empty barrels could be loaded safely, how to keep them from shifting on curves, and how to protect the old hoops from catching against one another. There were dozens of trips through the cold, some with the larger flatbed and others with Earl's pickup pulling the borrowed trailer.
The first load arrived at the farm on a gray afternoon. Earl backed down the lane beside the barn while Glen stood outside guiding him around the cattle gate. They unloaded twelve barrels by hand before Earl admitted that his shoulders were no longer built for doing that all day. Glen looked at the long empty stretch of yard where the remaining barrels were supposed to go and shook his head.
"You're going to be hauling these things until your grandchildren graduate," Glen said. Earl rubbed his back. "Then I suppose we'd better find a faster way to unload." They worked out a rolling ramp made from salvaged timbers, fitted a stop block at the bottom, and practiced guiding barrels to the stacking area without letting them crash into one another. It saved time, but not all of the labor.
By the middle of December, Earl's hands were cracked from cold and rough wood. One of the trailer tires developed a bulge that Glen said ought to have been replaced months earlier. They changed it beside a county road while sleet gathered on the wheel well. Earl wrote the repair cost in his notebook that evening, then stared at the remaining bank balance longer than he liked.
Christmas came with more barrels than he knew where to put. Margaret arrived with her husband and the children, and Ben ran along the stacks counting until he reached twenty-three and forgot what came next. "Grandpa, why do you have so many?" he asked. Earl considered telling him it was an investment, but the word sounded too confident for something he had not yet proved.
"Because I think they've got another job left in them," Earl said. Ben tapped one of the staves. "What job?" Earl smiled. "That's what we're going to find out."
Margaret waited until the children were occupied before saying what she had wanted to say all afternoon. "Daddy, the bank sent another notice about the mortgage. Please tell me you haven't spent money you needed for the payment." Earl showed her the notebook, the purchase receipt, and his transport expenses. He did not hide the risk from her.
"It cost me seven hundred and fifty to buy them," he explained. "The extra costs are adding up. I'm watching every dollar." Margaret studied the row of barrels outside the window.
"And you know somebody who'll buy them?" Earl shook his head. "Not yet."