Horrible Harvest

Momma didn’t let us set in leisure while the slaves give toil in the paddies. Me and Charles worked the rows of mud and slop alongside’em. Didn’t none of ‘em like it. Mrs. Stockton didn’t care for it, and the foreman groused and growled near every time they come upon us bent at the backs, digging at weeds and the like. But Momma called for it. She didn’t want us to know ease at the expense of hardship by others. Comfort ain’t comforting when others suffer to provide it, she’d say – minus the ain’t.

After days on days on days of laboring in such a manner, I heard a clank of destruction rattling through woods at the barn-side of the property. Mr. Miller’s lily-white horses and fancy wagon broke the tree line a short time thereafter, and there he was – Daddy. I weren’t never sorrier to see a body alive in my life entire. I’d wished him dead so many times since he’d been drug off, I was sure my wish’d been granted just to get me to shut the hell up.

The carriage come to a stop and Daddy jumped to the ground. Cocky and spry – Refreshed from beating back the law that took him. He give a long hard stare at the wonder of the massive workforce giving sweat and blisters to earn him treasure, and he was pleased – Puzzled but pleased.

Charles moved himself up a row and hid away behind a hand so big in size he’d be mistook for a tree if he stood bone-stiff long enough. I didn’t give a care if the monster seen me. I’d rather he beat me dead right off than to have to suffer the mauling that always come with time spent in his company.

Mr. Stockton come at him on foot from the barn. “Tennyson.”

“What’s all this?”

“Twenty hands. As agreed.”

“But that’s for harvest. It ain’t time for harvest.”

“Near enough. Besides, Mr. Miller recognized things got complicated. Things didn’t go as planned. He thought you could use the help while you dealt with other matters.”

Daddy waved away a swarm of midges. “Other matters? You was way off on that whole thing entire. They didn’t have no interest in questioning me. Arrested me and Douglas the second they set foot on my property.”

“And Douglas? Where is he?”

“Hospital. They’re patching him up. Trying to, anyway.”

“And your legal issues?”

Daddy give a chuckle. “Legal issues? Matters and issues. Goddamn cowpies and skunk stink is what I’ve been dealing with.”

“And has it been dealt with?”

“It has. Mr. Miller put a lawyer or two on the judge and whatnot. They went round and round, and then they just up and let me loose two-day ago. They said the witness took back his claims. Said he made the whole thing up.”

The advance man patted the monster on the shoulder. “That is fortunate, Tennyson. That is fortunate indeed.”

“If you say so. Spent seven days in a dirt pit they call a jail in Charleston. Fighting rats and palmetto bugs from one end of the cell to the other, not to mention the no-account crackers they locked me up with. That doesn’t feel all that fortunate.”

“Perhaps you’re fortunate to have a neighbor like Mr. Miller.”.

“I’d say I paid back every bit of gratitude that I owe. More than what’s expected if you wanna know the truth of it.”

Tate come out the house and bounced down the porch steps.

Daddy turnt at the sound of the door banging shut. “What’s that nigger doing in my house?”

Nerves grabbed at my gut.

“The servant king.”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“He’s your wife’s aide-de-camp. We’ve been instructed to treat him as the owner of your farm.”

Daddy’s glare turnt to flames. “Instructed by who?”

“Mrs. Tennyson. It seems she does not care for me, and she’s chosen Tate to be her adjunct. Her proxy. She relays orders for us to him, and he relays those orders to the foremen and me.”

Daddy’s nostrils flared. Every vein in his neck and face near burst. “That ain’t how things is done on my property. Ain’t no colored lag ever gonna tell a white man what to do on my farm.”

Tate slowed his pace. The glare off the carriage turnt his attention from his path to the patties. The driver looked away. He know’d the hell Tate was walking into.

Daddy give out a hardy, “Hop to, boy.”

Tate’s eyes followed the sound of the voice. Daddy give him a yellow-toothed grin. “Mr. Tennyson, happy to see you, sir. Hope your troubles have taken leave, and you’re here to stay.”

“My troubles ain’t none of your concern, boy.”

Tate come to a stop at the edge of the patties, two yards distance from the monster. “No, sir. Just wishing you well, sir.”

“I don’t need nor want your well-wishes. Wha-choo doing in my house?”

“The missus, she called for me. Give me to-dos.”

“You ain’t allowed in my house. Don’t you know that, Fable Jake Tatum?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, it wasn’t my desire, sir.”

“Not your desire? My house ain’t good enough for you?”

“No, sir. It is, sir.”

Daddy give a laugh. “Relax, boy. I’m just twisting you up.”

“Yes, sir.” Tate wasn’t no idiot. He know’d what was coming. He went stiff, broke a piece of himself off to cower before the lesser man. He’d done this his life entire. Bit by bit, he was falling away into nothing, and he hated the world for the part he’d been cast to play, and he hated himself ‘cause he played it so goddamn well.

“What did my dear darling wife want with you, boy?” He stepped to Tate.

“She gave me a message for Mr. Stockton, sir.”

“And what is this message?” Another two steps, and the distance ‘tween them weren’t but a foot wide.

I seen the anger run across Tate’s face. The monster before him had beat and mangled Momma dozens of times. The world would find more color and peace without a man like Horace Tennyson in it, and Tate could thrash him dead within a minute’s time, but such a thing’d come at a cost spread beyond just him. Momma, me, Charles – We’d all pay if he give into slaying the dragon. He dropped his shoulders and give a stare at the ground. “The hands, sir. They’re to have staggered breaks throughout the day, so they can collect themselves and hydrate.”

Daddy give him a slap ‘fore the word hydrate fount it’s way all the way off his tongue.

Tate stepped back and give his cheek a kneading to cool the sting.

The monster knocked his hand away. “Boy, you best not rub that hurt away. That hurt is for you. It’s my gift to you. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your days of giving orders on my farm are done.”

“Yes, sir.”

Daddy turnt to Mr. Stockton. “I’m back. You’re to take orders from me and me only.”

“Fine by me.”

“You work the hands until they drop.”

“Mr. Miller might have issue with that.”

“They’s laborers ain’t they?”

“They’re also collateral. Each one of them is a line of credit for Mr. Miller. They work themselves useless to dead, that costs Mr. Miller money.”

Daddy give thought to the advance man’s point. “Alright then. Give’em water when they got need, but they ain’t to get no regular staggered breaks throughout the day. They get a sip, and then their back at it.”

“My men and me can manage that.”

Daddy spotted Charles hiding away. “Hey, boy, come on now. Get yourself over here. Greet your daddy.”

I turnt to see Charles step out from behind the tree-built slave. My poor brother looked like a ghost that just took holt of the notion that he’d been long dead. His face was tempered cold, and his hands hung limp to his sides. He waded through the slosh and onto dryer land.

He and Daddy give stares to one another. You couldn’t find a smile ‘tween them with lamplight and a looking glass.

“Boy, scoot in good fashion to the house and fetch your momma. I want her out here quick as a rabbit hop.”

Charles froze up. He couldn’t work his mind to get his legs to move.

Daddy give a slap to the back of his head. “Move, you mis-bred slug for a child. This family’s reckoning is here, and I am full of righteous venom.”

Charles turnt and run like the devil.

I give a prayer that Momma’d fount her way out the house unseen, and that she was halfway to Charleston proper by now because there was shit-all-else I could do. I knew it was a waste of hope, but the mind turns to fantasy when the blade tears at the skin.