Horrible Harvest

Momma stood but didn’t offer no greeting.

Mr. Stockton didn’t acknowledge her effrontery of silence. “Mr. Miller caught wind of your troubles, Mrs. Tennyson.”

“I am sure he did.”

“He’s asked me to express his dismay and assurances that he has sent his legal advisors to Charleston to offer Mr. Tennyson and Douglas their services.”

“Does it appear to you that we are in the financial position to accept the services of legal advisors, Mr. Stockton?”

“Mr. Miller also wished me to convey that you need not worry about the cost of such services.”

“Your Mr. Miller is a man of such generosity it is almost hard to believe.” She was pure ice in her manner.

“Indeed, he is, ma’am.” The advance man was just as icy. Weren’t a speck of warmth between the two.

“Where are you delivering your coffle?”

 “Here, ma’am. It is an arrangement Mr. Miller made with Mr. Tennyson.”

“But that was for harvest. We’ve no need for the extra hands until then.”

“Respectfully, Mrs. Tennyson, you’re down your husband and your oldest.”

“Douglas is not my oldest. He is the oldest of Mr. Tennyson’s sons.”

“I am corrected. Regardless, you are down two men. That shortfall should be addressed.”

“We are down one. Tate has been on loan from your Mr. Miller for some time now, and frankly, he’s done more work than my husband and Douglas combined on their best days.”

“I am pleased he’s proven to be of such help, ma’am, but Mr. Miller considers it his neighborly duty to lend even more assistance.”

“Mr. Stockton, I ask you once more to consider this family’s pecuniary means.”

He give a grin. “Again, Mrs. Tennyson, money isn’t something with which you should concern yourself. I can assure you it is not a concern of Mr. Miller’s.”

“And just what does Mr. Miller concern himself regarding my husband and this farm, sir?”

“He is concerned that his neighbor is struggling and not in good cheer, ma’am. His words, not mine. He wants nothing more than for you to be without the burden of managing these fields while your husband faces these spurious allegations levied upon him.”

“We’ve no housing or food for all these field hands.”

“Tents and supplies are an hour behind us, ma’am.”

“And I suppose you will remain to survey these workers?”

“Myself and my colleagues will act as your overseer and foremen, yes.”

“And this is another cost I am not to concern myself with?”

“That is correct, ma’am.”

“And if I were to refuse this offer?”

He set up taller. “I would not advise it, ma’am. Mr. Miller would be insulted, and he is not a man who forgets such things.”

Momma’s nostrils flared like a bull set on charging. “Then it has been decided. With one caveat.”

“And that is?”

“While my husband is detained, this is my farm.”

“Of course.”

“No action is taken without consulting me first.”

“As you wish.”

“And as I do not enjoy our conversations, Mr. Stockton, we will not be in direct communication once this conversation concludes.”

“Ma’am?”

“Anything you have to say to me will be said to Tate. He will deliver the message to me. Anything I have to say to you, I will convey to him first. He is my second.”

I could practically see Tate’s stomach tie up in a knot.

“I can’t agree to that, ma’am.”

“You can, and you will. As my second, he speaks as the owner of this farm. Do you understand? You, sir, are in service to Fable Jake Tatum. Is that understood?”

“No, ma’am, it is not.”

“Then turn yourself around and leave. Tell your boss you could not negotiate a deal with a woman desperate for help. She’s no husband. Nowhere near enough laborers. She is but a feeble creature left to watch her crops die and family go hungry. And yet, you could not convince her to take free help. Tell Cameron Miller his advance man could not even advance such a simple deal.”

Mr. Stockton set still as a stump. He give Momma a stare, grinding his back teeth.

Momma worked like the devil to steady her nerves. “Speak or leave, Mr. Stockton.”

“Does this conclude our conversation?”

“It does.”

“Tate.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ask the Mistress Tennyson where we’re to set up the slave quarters.”

Tate begun to sweat rivers. A beating was sure enough coming his way “Yes, sir.” He looked to Momma

Momma’s mouth went so bone-dry I could hear her lips smack when she talked. “The west end of the property.”

Tate turnt his head through molasses back to Mr. Stockton. He give a stare, wondering if he was to repeat Momma’s words the advance man must’ve heard his ownself. When enough time passed, he said, “To the west, sir. On the property.”

“And me and my men. Where are we to set up tents?”

“There will be no tents beyond the slaves’ accommodations.”

Mr. Stockton cleared his throat and give a grunt, but otherwise play-acted that he didn’t hear Momma.

Tate can’t bring himself to repeat the words.

“Where?”

“She says – The missus – She doesn’t want any tents beyond the slave quarters, sir.”

“The barn then?”

“The barn belongs to the horses. They need their rest. Mr. Stockton and his men will need to quarter themselves with the hands or sleep under the stars. I care little how they choose.”

“But I’m set up in the barn, missus.”

“No longer. You will make a pallet on the floor. In the house. The boys and I will sleep better with you between us and the uninvited.”

I could see Tate’s heart pounding in his neck.

Mr. Stockton give a lean forward. “You wanna tell me, Mr. Tate? Are me and my men to set up in the barn?”

Tate cleared his throat ‘fore saying, “Sir. No, sir. Barns for horses.”

“Where then?”

A reply didn’t come.

“Boy, I am in service to you. Like the lady said. This only works if you give me orders.”

“The slave quarters, sir.”

“You sure those are your orders?”

Momma grow’d tired of the game. “Mr. Stockton, you know well that it is my directive.”

“Mrs. Tennyson, our conversation is done. You have violated your own rule. Now I suggest you rethink your decision to put a slave in charge of one of his masters because that’s a path that ought not be tread.”

“Stars, sir.”

“What did you say?”

“Slave quarters or stars, sir. Those are your choices. For where you and your men are to reside, sir.” Tate give into the ruin that was to come his way.

Mr. Stockton set uneasy in his saddle. He was but a beat away from turning to fire and ash. He give the tiniest of nods and turnt his mount towards the barn.

“The coffle, Mr. Tate. The men are to be refreshed with water. At once. When their supplies arrive, they are to be fed. Heartily.”

 His head dropped ‘til his chin come to rest on his chest. He searched for the courage to repeat her instruction. “The men, Mr. Stockton.”

“I got ears, boy.” With that, he and his foreman rode off.

Tate whispered out a single word. “Hamlet.”

“What?” Momma asked.

“I said Hamlet, missus.”

“Hamlet? What of it?”

“Would you like to know what line from Hamlet Mr. Stockton is turning in his mind at this very moment?”

She don’t reply.

“Oh, from this time forth, my thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth.”