Horrible Harvest

Daddy turnt the reins over to me, and I took’em, half expecting they’d bite me. He stood and stretched out his back before giving me instruction.

“If’n you can’t get to Mr. Miller, you get to the big fella. Stockton. Tell him that I done what was asked. Tell him I put in my part of the deal. Tell him I want a sit down. A meeting. I gone way above and beyond on this thing. Tell him that. I deserve a good sight more than what was discussed. Tell him that. For goddamn sure tell him that.”

He jumped off the rig and moved off the well-rutted path. He patted his pockets in search of his pop skull before giving memory to handing it over to his crippled boy. Daddy ain’t never hated Douglas more. He’d sacrificed something he loved for a son who was sure to be nothing but a burden for the rest of his days. A fool move, it was.

I give the reins a flick and the old draft horse begun its waddle. Every root, every hole, every rock give the rig’s wheels and frame a test. It’s as if nature herself was saying, “Turn your ass around right this now, you dumb sumbitch.” I didn’t. Going against Daddy would cost me more pain than going against nature. I knew that for damn sure. So, on I went. For two miles. Two miserable miles.

Gadsden’s plantation come up on me to my right as I traveled. I could see specks of it through the tree line. There was a hard stretch of chaos and mad growth that separated it from the rest of the world. The grassy field was well-kept, almost like each blade was cut by scissors one at a time.

The path curled around, and I come under at gnarl of trees tugging on one another at their tops. Once I cleared them, I seen a hundred yards of that cut grass ahead of me. Angel oaks lined each side of the road, and not a root nor hole nor stone was about to give jostle to the rig’s wheels.

Slave quarters come into view soon enough. Nicer than most. Finer than our little farmhouse. They weren’t made up to please the slaves. They was made up to give visitors the idea that extraordinary wealth be the order of the day on this here plantation. They was put front and center, not hidden in the back like most. The landscaping was even done up nice. The flowers, bushes, trees, they was all combed and coddled. Judge Gadsden wanted you to know right off he was better than any who visited him. You were shit. He was all treasure, and you could chew on shoe leather if you thought any different. If any kingdom suited a man like Cameron Miller, it was the Gadsden plantation.

The main house was so big it’d take up two states up North. It was three-stories, had twelve bedrooms and two kitchens with all the fixin’s entire. And if that weren’t enough, it had a formal room for etin’ and family room for etin’. The domestics even had their own room to set down and et in. It was all just a grotesque show that turnt my stomach. Can’t say why, exactly. It just felt all kinds of wrong.

More than a dozen pillars wrapped themselves around the home entire. Story to story. They was porches on each level. The first spit out a grand set of stairs to the ground below. There he stood on the last step. Sipping on a cup of piping hot coffee. He was as frightful looking as the plantation was rich looking.

I pulled the wagon to a stop at the path leading to the house and didn’t say a word. I was too damned scared to.

Mr. Stockton sipped at his coffee, staring me down. He didn’t offer a syllable of a greeting.

I couldn’t take another wordless second. “Daddy wants a sit down. With Mr. Miller.”

He planted his feet on the path, still sipping on his goddamn coffee.

“Says he done went above and beyond.”

Kenneth appeared at the door and give me a smile.

I give one in return.

“Says he should get more out of the deal than what was agreed to.”

Mr. Stockton reached the wagon and give the dead cracker a once over. “Your daddy not know what ‘agreed to’ means?”

“I reckon he does. Things just got complicated. I s’pose that’s what he means to say.”

“Did he say that?”

“No, sir.”

“Then how do you know what he means to say?”

“Experience. With daddy. I got an idea what he’s thinking.”

“This is Dillard?”

“It is.”

“Why is he dead?”

I give his question thought. “That’s what was discussed.”

“That was never part of the discussion. Did you hear Mr. Miller say that’s what he wanted?”

I pulled up a recollection of the conversation in my head before saying, “Not in particular. There was an understanding about how things was to go.”

“You saying you know what Mr. Miller means to say, too? That’s a pretty dangerous trick, kid.”

“I ain’t saying nothing. You was there. You shot a fella dead. I seen you on your spotted pony.”

“I suggest you rethink what you saw because I wasn’t there.”

I didn’t say a word back.

“Just to save you the trick of divining what I mean to say, I’m telling you I wasn’t there. I hear otherwise beyond this conversation, I’m not going to be too happy. You know what I mean, boy?”

I give a nod.

Kenneth moved to the edge of the porch and broadened his smile. It was like he wanted me to see a friendly face beyond the giant at my rig.

My heart warmed.

“There’ll be no sit down. Not with Mr. Miller. Not any time soon. Things are still undone.”

“What’s to be done?”

“State militia will be paying your daddy a visit.”

“What fer?”

“You Tennysons made a mess of things. That’s what for.”

“Didn’t happen but last night. How they hear about it?”

“Witness.”

“Witness? That don’t make sense. Ain’t time enough to report nothing.”

“He’s not come forward yet.” He sipped on his cup. “He will. Soon as I finish this coffee.”

“You?”

He give me a glare. “Can’t figure what you’re asking me.”

I give him back the glare.

“Anyway. The state boys, they’ll come calling on your daddy. He’s too cooperate. Or at least give the appearance of. There will be no mention of Cameron Miller. Beyond that, your daddy can say whatever he goddamn pleases.”

“Yes, sir.” I give pause. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why go to the state fellas and report on it at all.”

“Because an investigation is coming either way. Better to get a jump on it now. Clear up questions. Good citizens in these parts are going to want answers. It’s in our interest to provide those answers. Understand?”

“Yes, sir. I s’pose.”

“Your daddy’s going to have suspicion on him. He’s a known Galt consort. He paid Galtville a visit on a good many occasions, and his farm is closest to that beat-down enclave of crackers. He coils himself out of this mess, he might get that sit-down he wants. No promises, but he’ll be in better standing if he can handle himself with the state. Law breakers gotta be fast thinkers. Horace Tennyson excels at the former, but he’s not done a thing to prove he’s capable of the latter. This is his chance to prove himself.”

“Is that what I’m to tell him?”

He give out a whistle. Two slaves appeared at the door, and Mr. Stockton called them forward.

“Take the crate. Around back. I want an inventory.” He took a last sip before turning back to me. “Tell him what you want.”

The slaves pulled the crate off the rig.

“What about Dillard?”

“What about him?”

“Ain’t you gonna take him?”

He chuckled. “That is not among my plans for this day, no.”

“What am I to do with him?”

“You got a drift of pigs, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s your answer.”

“Daddy ain’t gonna be happy.”

“Don’t imagine he ever is.” He headed back to the porch and made a slow climb to the front door.

Kenneth’s kind face still beamed my way. “Hi.”

“Hey.”

“Remember me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Kenneth.”

“I know.”

“The man’s dead? In your wagon?”

“He is.”

“You sad about it?”

I looked at Dillard and shrugged. “I ain’t happy about it.”

He chewed on my answer. “Sorry.”

“What fer?”

“Don’t know. I just wish you were happy I guess.”

I smiled back at him.

“Inside, Kenneth.” Mr. Stockton said, his massive frame filling half the space left in the portal absent the giant double doors.

“Bye.”

I nodded my goodbye.

The rich man’s son vanished. Into the world I didn’t belong.

I give grip to the reins.

“Your brother? He make it?”

I turnt to the advance man but didn’t answer.

“He was in bad shape. Last I saw him.”

“Thought you wasn’t there.”

He give a smile. “Your daddy was right. You are the smart one.”

I set the draft horse in motion.

The rig moved out the paradise of unnerving riches and down the gullet of the gnarled woods. Time moved quick from there on out. Before I knew it, I come up on Daddy, sitting against a tree fall, agitated to all get out.

“What in the fiery hell, boy?”

I didn’t say a word because I didn’t know which wrong of all the wrongs had him bent out of shape.

“Where’s the crate?”

“It got took.”

“By who?”

“Mr. Stockton.”

“Wasn’t his to take. That was ours. A gift from his boss.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You tell him that?”

“No, sir.”

“You just let him rob you? Just like that? Didn’t put up a fight?”

“I s’pose I didn’t. No, sir.”

“You got that pepperbox.” He pointed to the handle of the pistol sticking out my britches.

I looked down. I’d forgotten all about the little gun. Lost track of it, as if it’d disappeared once I’d done in Major Jonathan Galt. “It’s spent. Empty.”

Daddy pulled his two Navy Colts out from behind his back. “Lucky I held onto these, it is.” He jumped up onto the back of the rig. “I see he didn’t take Dillard off our hands.”

“No, sir. Says we should let the pigs have him.”

“That’s what he said, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He lifted Dillard off the baseboards and flipped the fat mistress whisky runner over the side panel. “I say we let the woods have him.” The body landed with a thud.

The Devil set back down next to me. “They gonna give me my sit down?”

I give it thought before saying, “They’re open to it.”

“When?”

“After.”

“After what?”

“The investigation by the state. It’s bound to come. Soon enough.”

“What’s one thing got to do with the other?”

“Things just needs to settle. That’s all. According to Mr. Stockton.”

He give this information some mulling over. “I reckon that’s not altogether unreasonable.”

“He said you’re most likely to be questioned. On account of our farm being so close to Galtville. He said you don’t mention Mr. Miller’s name, you’ll get your meeting.”

Daddy grinned. “That’ll cost them.” He pulled the reins to the left. The rig’s wheels creaked and crackled as the draft horse pulled it off the worn path to a narrow passage through the thick stretch of forest to the south.

“Where’re we going?”

“Never you mind.”

“Homes that way.”

“I know where home is, boy. You got it in your mind I’m too stupid to know which way it is back home?”

“No, sir.”

“I got cause to celebrate, and ain’t a body back home that I want to celebrate with.”

“What about Douglas?”

“What about him? I ain’t a doctor. You a doctor?”

“No, sir.”

“Time will heal him up or do him in. Either way ain’t a thing me nor you can do about it. Unless you got a plan you ain’t told me about to help him along. You got a plan, boy?”

“No, sir.”

“So, you’ll set right there and keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes, sir.”

The morning leaked out hours thereafter. We traveled along and over hellish ground. Daddy offered up evey cuss word he knew to pass the time. My muscles cramped from bracing against the bucks and kicks of the wagon. The horse snorted and grunted as it strained to pull its burden through the untraveled snarl of land.

As if we was swimmers breaking the surface of the water to take in air, we exited a tree line to a wide and oft traveled road to Charleston proper. I know’d it well enough to know it would take us near two days to reach the port city. We didn’t have a crumb to et, nor money, nor a drop of water for man nor horse. I started to give thought it wasn’t just Douglas who wouldn’t survive the assault on Galtville. I was more than a bit nervous that I wouldn’t survive the trip to the Holy City under the direction of the Devil setting next to me.