Horrible Harvest

At an hour or two ‘for dusk, the Bunning Brothers gang stopped at a small unpainted house on a tiny farm in the middle of nowhere that we’d come to learn was a half-days ride from Memphis proper. We were dog tired and famished. The plan was to set up camp near the house and make use of the stream nearby to water the horses and fill our canteens. Bobby thought it prudent to introduce ourselves to the owners of the house to prevent any misunderstandings and maybe buy a pig from their pen at the back of the property.

He brought me with him to the front door, as his head of security.

A black man pulled open the door. He was hunched over. By defect or in deference, I can’t say. He stood, nervous at the sight of ten armed white men on his property. “How do you do, sir?”

Bobby removed his hat and smiled. “I do fine. I hope this lovely evening is treating you well.”

The man nodded.

“My name is Carl Conner,” Bobby said.

I looked at him. It didn’t surprise me he was using a phony name. It just irked me he chose an alliterate nom de plume, as Momma would say. Can’t give reason why. It just felt lazy as all hell.

“Bishop, sir. Hank Bishop,” the man said.

“Is this your home, Hank?”

The man nodded. “It is, sir. Left to me and mine by the good Lady Dawson ‘fore she passed. I got papers that say as much. I can go get them – ”

“No,” Bobby said. “That’s not necessary. We – Me and my associates – We just wanted to ask permission to set up for the night down by the stream.”

“Permission?”

“That’s right. It’s a good spot, and we just didn’t want to take liberties.”

Hank looked past us and examined the others on horseback. The bent leg of one of the horses caught his attention. “That red mare needs shoeing.”

We turned to the horse.

“You can tell that just by looking at her from here?” Bobby asked.

“Ima farrier by trade. Leg up and bent like that. She ain’t got no comfort about her.”

“You can fix her up?”

“I can.”

“And the other horses, you can look them over, too?”

He nodded.

“Tonight?”

He nodded.

“I’ll pay you, of course.”

“Yes, sir. You will.”

Bobby laughed. “And we want to buy one of your pigs.”

“Pigs ain’t mine. Fella bought’em off me a week back. He just ain’t come to collect’em, yet. But if it’s food you’re wanting, we’ve got plenty cooked up. Enough to fill all your bellies.”

“Well, that is welcome news because my boys and me are near starved. How much to feed all of us?”

“How much what?”

“Money. What will it cost us?”

Hank shook his head. “No, sir. The Lord wouldn’t take kindly to me if I were to make a hungry man pay for food. He just won’t have it.”

Bobby placed his hat over his heart. “The Lord has found favor with you this evening, Brother Hank. He surely has.”

Hank smiled and stepped back. “Come in. Come in. I’ll have my boys take the horses to the stables.”

“You are most kind, sir.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m mostly spit and vinegar – My family will declare as much – Kindness ain’t but of fraction of me –

“Johnny? Boy? Get yourself in my presence on the quick.”

A tall, slender teen who looked to be a younger version of Hank stepped out of the shadows. “Yes, sir.”

“Gather your brothers. Round the horses out front and march’em to the stables. There all to be trimmed and shoed.”

Johnny looked us over and failed to respond quick enough to his father’s orders.

“Boy, I will bring the rod on you if you dilly dawdle another second – ”

Johnny hauled his skinny ass past us and flew out the front door like he was being chased by a demon. He yelled out the names of his brothers in a stirring panic.

“Molly Anne, come out, woman.”

A woman, plump at the belly and drawn at the eyes, stepped out of the side room.

“My wife here, she’ll fill plates for you – Woman, feed the lot of them, and don’t stop feedin’em until the pots are empty and our cupboards are bare.”

She give a half smile and nod.

“What a lovely woman you are, Mrs. Bishop. I have to apologize for being such a bother.”

“It ain’t no bother,” Hank answered. “Tell the man it ain’t no bother, woman.”

“It ain’t no bother,” she said, sweetly. Adding, “Sir,” after Hank stepped toward her with an angry glare.

“Please, call me Bobby – ”

“Carl,” I said.

He looked at me, confused at first, but then quick-like realized his mistake. “Carl – Bobby is my middle name – Robert.”

“Carl, Bobby, Robert – It don’t matter. My woman won’t be calling you nothing but sir and mister. God don’t want her talking on no equals with a man – Food, woman. Get to plating it. These men is our guests, and they should already have they’s spoons in hand – We got us a fatted-meat stew.”

She hurriedly stepped into the kitchen and tended to the stove.

“My woman, she been made dumb by a beaten or two by ol’ Master Dawson, but she can cook like she’s got an Angel’s hands – Bake up a bread loaf for these fine gentlemen.”

“Not necessary,” Bobby said. “The stew will be more than enough.”

“Can’t have stew without no bread. You’ll have your first helping without it. Bread will be baked up and ready to be et by the time you start your second.”

Bert, Felix, and Virginia appeared at the front door.

“Come in – Come in – All y’all, come right in.”

“This is my brother, Hank – The far less handsome version of me there on the left – Boyd.”

“Mr. Boyd, sir. Welcome, sir – ”

Bert was not thrown by his new name. He nodded.

“Y’all come in. We got fatted-meat stew. Tasty. The others should find their way inside, too.”

“They prefer to wait outside,” Bert said.

“Outside?” Bobby responded.

Bert nodded.

“They’ve been invited in for a meal. Waiting outside isn’t an option.”

“They’ve made their position clear,” Bert said.

“And what position is that?”

Bert hesitated before saying, “They have a problem with our host.”

“Frank? He’s a good, godly sort. Lovely, is what he is.”

“You bless me with your words, Mr. Carl.”

“I bless you with the truth – And please, just call me Carl.”

“It’s not his character that bothers them,” Bert said.

“What is it then?”

Bert hesitated.

Felix jumped in. “They said, they won’t step inside no nigger’s house. No way. No how.”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Bobby give a growl. “Well, that is just unacceptable. That is just plain rude. It ain’t befitting the behavior of men I want in my employ.” He grabbed me up at the elbow. “These are your men, boy. They are under your supervision. Get them in here. Whatever it takes. I will not have them disrespect one Mr. Hank Bishop in such a manner. Do you hear me?”

“It’s okay,” Hank said. “I don’t wanna stir up no trouble.”

“All you’ve stirred up is your generous hospitality. My employees will respond with the gratitude and solicitude that is called for or they will be out of a job.” To me, he said, “You make it clear that I will not tolerate such ugliness.”

“If they refuse?”

“Send them on their way.”

“That ain’t a good idea.”

“And why not?”

“Because they’ll go right to your investors and tell them which way we’re riding.”

Bobby considered my point. “Then this situation seems to require that extra mile your paid good money to take.”

“For refusing to enter a man’s house?”

“For besmirching my name.”

“Carl Conner?”

He snarled. “An order has been rendered, boy. Are you refusing?”

I shook my head. “No. I just want to be sure you know what you’re asking.”

“Bert – I mean – Boyd, tell our tall associate here I know what I’m asking.”

“He knows,” Bert answered.

I shrugged and headed for the door, stopping to whisper in Felix’s ear, “Take Virginia into the kitchen. Keep her busy.”

“Wha’choo gonna do?”

“The only thing I do well.”