Horrible Harvest

I stepped in front of momma. Daddy’d made me a man in Galtville, and I was eager to show him what I learnt.

He laughed. “Boy’s got it in him now. Showed him a good time, I did. That feisty Tennyson fire is burning through him, yes it is. He got to see him a pretty woman, too – a whole entire houseful of ‘em. These weren’t no saggy bitches like you neither. All their parts and wiggles was sweet and tasty.”

I wrapped my hands into tight little fists.

He stepped to us. “Things’re gonna change around here, woman. You’re too full of yourself. This is my house. My farm. My boys. Ain’t no room for your sass and backtalk no more. You hear me?”

“Mr. Tennyson, sir.”

Daddy whipped the Navy Colt out his britches upon hearing Tate call on him from the porch. “Goddamn, boy – Don’t get sneaky on me now. Get your head blown to Texas, do a thing like that – Goddamn.” He stuck the gun back down his trousers.

Me and momma was never so glad to see another human being in our lives.

“Yes, sir.”

“And didn’t no one invite you on my porch.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. These are just exigent circumstances.”

Daddy cocked his head to the right. “Eggs – What?”

“Urgent, sir.”

“What the devil is so ex-a-urgent then?”

“Men have arrived, sir.”

“Men?”

“State men, sir. In uniform.”

Daddy looked past Tate and seen four men on horseback dressed in heavy gray shell jackets, matching pants with red stripes and red forage caps, and they all had white belts with sidearms holstered to their hips. They was halfway between the house and the barn. The thick fella in the middle wore a heavy beard. The others was baby-faced. All the poor sumbitches mopped sweat from their foreheads with the back of their hands with a great deal of frequency, as they was dressed for winter in the bake of a Lowcountry summer’s day.

Daddy placed his hand on the Navy Colt and stepped onto the porch. He give the visitors a stare, tapping his finger on the butt of his revolver. He stepped off the porch and approached the state men. “Something I can help you fellas with?”

The bearded man spied Daddy’s gun. “I’m Captain Marshall Buchanan, with the South Carolina State Guard. My men. Corporal Middleton and Privates, Halsey and Franks.”

“Horace. Tennyson.”

“Mr. Tennyson, I wonder if I could entice you to relieve yourself of that weapon.”

Me and Momma stepped onto the porch and Tate drifted near us.

“Guns fine where it is. It ain’t drawn. It ain’t a problem.”

“Just the same, we’ve come on a delicate matter that we’re hoping can be addressed without the tension that firearms tend to add.”

“You’re armed. All y’all are armed.”

“Part of the uniform.”

“Mine, too.”

“Very well,” the captain said before dismounting.

Charles stepped out the barn.

I felt Momma go stiff at the sight of her boy so far from her. Tate took notice, too and stepped off the porch, skirted along the nearby patty, and made his way to the barn.

“This about Galtville?”

The captain turnt to his men and then back to Daddy. “You were expecting us?”

Tate reached the barn and stepped in front of Charles. Momma relaxed just a hair.

“Not hard to speculate. We’re the closest place to that old pile of shit.”

“You are, indeed. This your entire family? Your negro? This all of you?”

“Negro’s not mine. On loan from Mr. Miller. That’s my woman and two of my boys. Other ones in the barn.”

“The one in the barn. Would you call him out, please?”

Daddy grinned. “He’s behind on his labors. Don’t suit me to have him interrupted.”

“But it suits me, Mr. Tennyson. Would you call him out, please?”

Daddy give pause. “Boy’s hobbled. Horse threw him.”

“I expect that’s a hazard of farm life.”

“It is that. One of many.”

“Should I go to him?” The captain walked towards the barn.

Daddy barked at him in a panic. “No, that ain’t necessary.” He give a whistle. “Tate!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Get on into the barn and bring Douglas out here!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Charles, you go with him! Fetch your brother!”

Momma bit her lower lip and turnt to me. “Augustus, boy.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“You stay here. Don’t you move a whisper, you hear me?”

I nodded. “Where you going?”

“To try and save us from your daddy’s stupid.” She give a wink and stepped off the porch. She took a swift pace to Daddy’s side and worked to put a smile on her face.

The captain tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

“Captain.”

Daddy give a scowl.

Tate come out the barn dragging Douglas along like a sack of potatoes. My brother by a half was near a whole dead person. Tate had a holt of him at the ribs with his right arm draped around his neck, holding fast to his wrist. Charles wasn’t no help at all. He just placed his hand on Douglas’s back and pretended to push him along.

The captain immediately looked concerned. “Mr. Tennyson, I believe your boy needs proper medical attention.”

“I’ll take that into consideration. We need to get on with this investigation you’re doing into this whole Galtville mess.”

“Investigation?”

“That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?”

The captain give pause before turning to the corporal and privates and saying, “At the ready, men.”

The three fellas unholstered their sidearms and pointed them at Daddy.

Daddy quick as a flea placed his hand on the grip of his Navy Colt.

“Whoa. Steady now. Not advisable, Mr. Tennyson.”

Daddy was frothing mad. “What’s this all about?”

The captain reached inside his jacket and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. He handed them to Daddy. “We’ve got a witness who identified these two men as the deviants who slaughtered all them folks in the Galtville compound.”

Daddy unfolded the paper and fount out they was two wanted posters. One for him and one for Douglas. They wasn’t named, but it was them, clear as day.  

“No fewer than a dozen folks have testified that those two men on those posters are you and your boy Douglas.”

“I don’t understand.”

“We are here to arrest you and your boy.”

Daddy couldn’t wrap his head around what the captain fella was saying. “You got it wrong. That ain’t the way this is supposed to go.”

“How do you mean?”

“You’re to ask me questions. I’m to give you a statement. You’re to leave. That’s how this was to go. That’s what the advance man told the boy.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir. I’ve been ordered to place you under arrest and bring you to Charleston for arraignment.” He placed his hand on his own sidearm but didn’t go no further with it. “Mr. Tennyson, if you would be so kind, sir. Please, clasp your hands behind your head.”

Daddy didn’t move.

“You’re family’s present, sir. I’d advise you to consider their safety before doing anything foolhardy.”

“This is not the way this was to go.”

“Hands clasped behind your head, sir.”

“I was to give testimony. You was to be on your way.” He turnt to me. “Augustus, boy. That’s what Stockton said. Right? Tell the captain.”

Momma spoke, angry he’d dragged me into his trouble, but cool in tone. She leant into him. “Horace, do as the captain says.”

He was too damn puzzled to be angry. “But the advance man said.”

“And he can clear this up,” she said. “At this moment, however, you’re outnumbered four to one. All but a fool would comply. Clasp your hands behind your head. Like the captain ordered.”

A miracle fount purchase. Daddy listened to Momma. He’d never done so before. His married life entire was to not do a damn thing she said, but on this here day, at this one moment, he listened to her and clasped his hands behind his head.

The captain stepped forward and relieved Daddy of his gun. “On your knees, Mr. Tennyson. Please, sir.”

Daddy fell to his knees. Muddled. Broken.

The captain kept eyes on Daddy and give the order, “Signal the wagon, corporal.”

Corporal Middleton raised his firearm straight into the air and fired off a single shot.

A horse whinnied in the distance, and we heard the clank of a wagon follow. A prison carriage crossed the tree line onto the property. The carriage driver and an armed guard vibrated and rattled on the bench. Two more men appeared on horseback. They brung a small company of state men to arrest the maniac of the Galtville massacre.

Horace was shackled and placed in the wagon without nary a struggle. Douglas was laid on the bed of the wagon without restraints. Didn’t a one of us expect him to survive the two-day trip to the jailhouse.

The wagon pulled off. Three men on horseback was at the rear and three at the lead. Daddy’s temper caught fire the further the wagon traveled. He grumbled and spit out words to himself that no one understood. Just before clearing the property line into the woods, he turnt to Momma and growled out, “Call on Mr. Miller. Tell him what they done here. Tell him it didn’t go like he planned. Tell him I’m in need of his help. Tell him.”

He continued giving Momma instructions, even when he hadn’t the volume to be heard. He carried his desperation into the woods, in the back of a prison wagon, to be jailed for being the murderous sumbitch he was, and I couldn’t’ve been happier.