Horrible Harvest

Without Daddy there, we had something on the farm we ain’t never had before. Peace. The stale air of fear was gone. We could breathe a bit easier. Smiles was more frequent. Life was just goddamn good absent that evil sumbitch jumping up our ass for this, that and the other.

Tate took up directing me and Charles on what was to be done around the farm. He was as hard working a man as I ever come across, but he wasn’t enough to keep up with the 25 acres needing to be groomed and kept. Things was falling behind because he didn’t have but two pissant boys as his hands, and we wasn’t just pissant boys, we was pissant boys without the Devil on our heels yammering at us and clawing at our backs to work harder. We had us a touch of freedom for the first time in our lives and the free air – Well, it was hard not to rejoice in it by doing what boys do, grab-ass tomfoolery. And I tell you true, Tate enjoyed watching our play and games as much as we did doing it. He wouldn’t never admit to it, but I caught him chuckling and laughing more than a few times when we got deep in it.

The third day Daddy was gone, just as it was heading toward dusk, Tate come to the house where I was reading on the stoop – without fear of Daddy ripping the book from my hand and tossing it as far he could fling it because reading was a waste of time – Tate come up and give greeting to Momma who was setting on the porch in the soft, soothing ruckus of sounds that come from living on the edge of a river. She set there like she ain’t never heard it before.

“Missus.”

“Mr. Tate.”

“I know things are running behind, but I don’t want you to worry –”

“It’s cool out tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am. It is.”

“Feels good.”

“It does, yes ma’am, but it’s a warning cool. A harbinger.”

She looked at him. “You don’t like the cool?”

“No, ma’am – ”

“Stop with the ma’am business. Save it for royalty. My name is Grace.”

He stammered. “I’d prefer not to, missus. Call you that.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You prefer to not call me by my name? Do you find it that objectionable?”

“No, ma – I don’t find it objectionable at all. It’s a pretty name – A pleasing name. It’s habit forming, ma- missus. I’d find pleasure in using it, but that’s a dangerous game for me because I’m liable to forget myself and use it in the company of others like your husband and Mr. Stockton. That could cost me the lash, missus.”

Her cheeks turnt coal-fire red. “Understood, Mr. Tate. I wouldn’t want to cost you the lash.” She smiled. “So, why is it you don’t like the cool air. It’s the summer. This is the Lowcountry. The heat bakes and wilts. You don’t find the breeze comforting?”

“No, I do. It’s just this breeze has got a little taste of the sea-air with it. It’s come from deep off the Atlantic.”

She sniffed the air. “Does it? Have the taste, I mean?”

“Yes, ma’am, it does. Spent enough time at sea to sense it.”

“And why does that seem to unsettle you?”

“Means a storm’s coming.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Could be very bad.”

“We could use a little rain and even a show of lightning and thunder.”

“Storms bring life. That’s true. They are needed. That’s true, too, but there’s two types of storms – the way I see it. The type you’re talking about and the type that comes with a warning, an alarm, and that’s not good. A breeze with a taste of sea-air? That’s a warning, missus.”

She give his statement thought and then said, “Is there anything to be done to save us from this storm?”

“I’ll work on securing the small this and that’s around the property. Fortify the barn where I can to keep the horses buttoned up. Clear out space for the pigs in there, too. I’ll do what I can.”

“And the patties?”

He give pause before saying, “Only shelter they’ll have from a storm is pleading and prayer.”

She chuckled. “You believe in the power of prayer, do you, Mr. Tate?”

He smiled. “I’ve been yoked to Mr. Miller for a good part of my life, missus, and I haven’t found a prayer yet that has freed me from that state, so no, ma’am. In point of fact, I do not believe in the power of prayer.”

Momma chuckled. “I haven’t found use in it, either. Although, I did ask the Devil gone from my life since I married him, and here I am, on my porch, enjoying this farm without his presence for the first time since I uttered that prayer all those years ago. Maybe I should give some credit to God.”

Tate let a small smirk take up a curl of his lip.

“You don’t agree?”

“Well, missus, if God is to answer a prayer, he ought to do it with haste because time brings suffering. That has been my experience, anyway.”

She nodded. “That it does, sir. That it does – Speaking of your Mr. Miller. What does he have planned for us? What is his next move?”

“Can’t say for certain. Your husband, he’s got more fangs than brains. Man like that will always get bested by Mr. Miller.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning debt’s been reallocated between the two. Or it soon will be. Mr. Tennyson doesn’t hold the note anymore. The state men, it wasn’t just some witness that sent them, but I expect you know that, smart as you are.”

“I do.”

“Your husband, he’ll come out of this trouble, but he’ll come out owned by Mr. Miller.”

“He wants the farm – Mr. Miller.”

“He does.”

“Why not just buy it? Horace is not the type of man who wins such negotiations. He is easily duped into deals that don’t favor him.”

“Mr. Miller doesn’t buy things. To him, that is bad business. He takes things. He will take this farm. And you with it.”

“Me?” Momma give a laugh. “What on earth would he want with me?”

“This school of his. It’s not just a passing fancy. He speaks of it often. For years. When he discovered you were once a teacher, and he spoke with a few of your more accomplished students, it reaffirmed a calling in him. He feels divinely drawn to the notion now. It is no longer something he wants to do. It is now something he must do. You are his muse, missus.”

She shivered at the thought and folded her arms tighter to her chest. “It is an odd obsession, this school. For a man like Cameron Miller.”

“It is if you believe his desire is to educate.”

“It isn’t?”

“Inculcation. That is his desire. Acolytes. That is what he wishes to gain. An army of boys turned into men who will seek military appointments, political office, pulpits, and headlines. All working in favor of his industry and vocation. He knows what I know. About storms.”

“They are needed.”

“Yes, ma’am. You know of the trouble in Kansas?”

“I do.”

“It is the chill in the air.”

She nodded. “He is a smart man, your Mr. Miller.”

“No, ma’am. He is a frightened man with power. Which makes him far more dangerous. Such a man thinks no amount of collateral damage too high. He is out to save Cameron Miller at all costs.”

They are interrupted. By a large man. The advance man. On his spotted horse. Crossing the woods that border the property. Another man on horseback follows. Alongside a coffle of 20 men. Behind them a third horseman.  

The Devil gone, three demons arrived to take up his whip, and they brung 20 poor souls to feel its crack and sting.

I could taste the sea-air in the cool breeze for the first time.