Horrible Harvest

Charles took hold of two long guns and loaded up a satchel with ammo. Douglas took position in the tall grass and locked eyes on the entrance of Galtville. I stuffed dynamite under my shirt, secured tight against my belly by the waist of my britches. Daddy put two pistols down the back of his pants and holstered a Bowie to his thigh. Weren’t no need to conceal it. Every cracker in Galtville sported a knife.

Off me and Daddy went.

We passed under the skull and stepped into an open area. It was a den of lunatics and louts. Men walked about – Some nude, caked in dirt or shit or blood – Or all of it. The women weren’t dressed no better nor covered in less filth. There was a heavy smell of brine that pert near brought tears to my eyes.

An ark of animals run free and wild, mostly rats and raccoons. Sickly folks was all about, hacking and crawling, struggling to grab onto a good breath.

We walked by a group of men setting around a fire and one of them called out, “Tennyson.”

He was an old cuss with deep etches of a hard drink life carved into his face and a patchwork white beard that matched his straw-like white hair. His smile give show of teeth that’d turned copper from rot. “You old plantation ass-licker. You come to turn your back on your people in person?”

“I come to spend the wages I earn on you lazy horde of crackers. You know what earn means, Seifert? It means I worked for it. You know what work is?”

“Hell, yeah. Wha-choo think? I don’t work? I’m working right now. Working on this bottle for near fifteen minutes now.”

“That explains why you’re poor as a church mouse. Riches await no man that don’t work for it.”

“Then I be the king of crackers. Where wealth is measured in whisky and more whisky.”

The group around him laughed.

“Okay, your highness, here’s a short bit for a bottle of popskull.” Daddy tossed him the coin.

“What makes you think you can buy a whole entire bottle for a dime?”

“Because I ain’t got no half dime.”

Siefert give a grumble before he let loose a laugh. His court of crackers laughed along. “You’re an ornery old plantation ass-licker, Tennyson. I’ll give you that.” He tossed Daddy a bottle.

Daddy uncorked it and threw back a swig.

“That your boy, or is that a gift for the major?”

“Could be one and the same. Depends on how the night goes.”

I didn’t know what such a thing meant but it give me a shiver.

“Damn, Tennyson. That’s cold. Even for you.”

Daddy bent the elbow again before corking the bottle. “Ain’t you sell off your only born to the Calhoun plantation?”

“To pay off a debt. And it’s what theys call an apprenticeship or some shit like that. I will grant you that the boy is put to work alongside the darkies and widows, and he’s getting ruined for life, developing this habit and that. Even still, selling your boy to the major is a different thing altogether. That ain’t a thing any man whatever thought a decent thought need dwell on.”

“Then it shouldn’t bother you to dwell on such a thought. You seen Dillard?”

“He’s about. Can’t say where, but he usually slips into Barker’s for a two-bit tug.”

“You trying to tell me Dillard’s in possession of two-bits?”

“He’s come into a trade line as far as his legs can take him. Slaves trade out food stores and stolt items from the main house for that popskull you’re sipping on. He sells off what he collects and don’t eat. Ends up flush with money even after giving me my share for the whisky.”

“Don’t that bring the niggers the lash?”

“Brings ‘em the lash, but the hooch spares ‘em the pain.”

“Barker? Can’t believe that old crow is still among the living.”

“She got more years than most, but she got more skill than most, too. God give us eyelids to close, so old whores can earn a living. That’s what I always say.” His court give out another laugh.

“Ain’t a whore you’ve bedded who ain’t thanked the lord above for eyelids of their own.” To me. “C’mon.”

“You’ll want to pay the major your respects before too long. You know how he runs things around here.”

We walked between the shanties and tattered tents. There was chatter coming from everywhere. Couldn’t make out a word of it, but it felt out of sorts. The whole place entire felt stale and rotten. Ain’t a thing changed for Galtville folks since the moment they was born. They’s devilish poor then. They’s devilish poor now. They stunk so deep in poor it’d most likely follow them into their graves. They was just a cursed lot of peasants.

We come up on building of sorts the size of a house at the back of the slum. It was made up of ill-cut wood, and dried mud filled the seams and holes. The door hung loose. Clamped to a crooked frame by three leather hinges. I give a peek inside and saw nothing but an empty room under the glow of two lamplights.

Daddy give a rap on the doorjamb.

“Who knocks?” The voice was so raspy it give the ground a rattle.

“Horace Tennyson, major.”

“Enter, lad.”

We stepped past the crooked entrance.

A fat man, sans shirt, set on a mattress at the far corner of the room. His skin was tight at the belly. It looked as if it’d pop at any second. His cheeks was meaty and plump. His eyes was pushed near shut by a swell of blubber, and his mouth hung open as he grunted breaths in and out.

Two boys of similar age to me set on each side of the man. They was shirtless as him. Their bellies sunk in. Didn’t see a speck of life in their eyes.

“This is unexpected, my boy. You’re not due for a visit for another month by my recollection.”

“Need to work some kinks out.”

“Kinks?”

“Farm related.”

He give me a looking over. “Is this one for me? Is that your business?”

“Augustus. My son.”

“Son? I thought he was older. Runs his pecker through here a few times a year. Ain’t that your boy?”

“That’s my oldest. This is my youngest. There’s another in between.”

“My, my, Horace Tennyson has got him three boys. Outside your bastard line, that is. As I recall, a fancy maid or two in Missouri got fat off your seed.”

“So they said. Others, too. Can’t know for sure. They spend more times knees down and ass up than a train spends on a track. Can’t know if my seed set or if it’s the sumbitches before or after.”

“You selling this one?”

I clinched my jaw, not knowing what Daddy’s answer would be. The dead-eyes of the two boys run down my nerves.

“Nah. He puts in work on the farm. Not much, but it’s enough that I need him. His production drops off, I’ll come calling.”

A laugh come from the Major. “Do your uncle major a favor, boy. Find you some slack in your work, and I’ll put in a good bid for you. You and me, we’ll have us a fine time here on this plantation of good and plenty of mine.”

I didn’t give no reply. It was all I could do to not turn tail and run.

“Fine-looking lad he is. Spindly. Rough from labors.”

“Like I said. He puts in more trouble at home, we’ll talk.” Daddy held out a small bag of coins at arm’s length.

The major give a grin and pushed the boy to his right forward. He rambled toward us. There was a hitch and sway to his walk, like he ain’t learned he had feet but a day or two ago. His eyelids hung heavy. Could only see his pupil by half. He took the bag from Daddy and returned to the fat man.

The major dumped the coins into his hand and give them a sniff. “You’re a good man, Horace. Boy, your daddy ever tell you me and him served in the Mexicanny War.”

I give a nod.

“We had us some grand times, we did. Run together after the war, too. I tell you true, I got my fill of fun on high. Ain’t a law we didn’t break nor lawmen we didn’t shake. The world was ours back then. Ain’t that so, Horace?”

“We got our share of things.”

“Goddamn, Horace. I’ll toss these coins back, you leave that boy behind.”

“Told you. He’s of use to me. Need to know if you got stake in Dillard?”

He returned the coins to the bag. “Stake?” He give a smile and squeezed the bag. “If I did, you just bought it.”

Daddy held out another bag of coins.

“What’s that for?”

“Collateral damage. Can’t promise you a cracker or two ain’t gonna get caught up in my collection.”

The grin come out extra unsettling this time. “Send your boy.”

Daddy handed the bag to me. “Here.”

I didn’t move a lick.

“Take it. Hand it to the major.”

I was anchored in.

“Do it, or I’ll leave you here to take your spot on that mattress.”

My mouth went desert dry. I took the bag and walked to the fat man.

I seen the sinister in his grin the closer I got. He parted his lips and run his tongue across his upper teeth and then give a snarl. “Come closer, lad. That’s it.”

I stopped a foot from him and held out the bag.

His stubby fingers grabbed hold of my wrist.

“This snake will bite, boy.”

I give a wriggle and tug to set myself free.

The major laughed, took the bag and leave me go.

I give a quick stumble back to Daddy.

“Mind your step. Word is Dillard bought himself a pepperbox. Shit gun, I know, but it can still put holes in you.”

Daddy and I exited the demon hut, and I give a look back for some fool reason. The major winked. His ugly grin dug into his fat face.

Needles raced up my spine.