Horrible Harvest

Tate dropped the riding crop and fell to his knees.

Mr. Stockton picked it up and turnt to the paddies. “Work, goddamn it. You mud rats aren’t bred to stand around with your thumbs up your asses. Get to it.”

They returned quick to their work.

“You got punishment coming your way, Tate. You know that, right?”

“Yes, sir,” Tate said without a care for what was to come.

“It’s about as bad as it gets. You struck a white woman.”

“I did, sir. Yes, sir. God help me. I did.”

“On the one hand, your punishment has got to equal the severity of your offense. On the other. I bring you back dead or near it, Mr. Miller won’t be happy. You put me in a tough spot, boy.”

“I don’t care what’s to come of me, sir. Kill me. I struck a white woman – A good woman.”

The advance man crouched down to his haunches. “Tell me true. You bed her?”

Tate didn’t give no reply.

“Now I only ask because she’s got her a bow-legged gait she didn’t have before you showed up.”

The foremen laughed.

Tate looked at Mr. Stockton dead in the eyes and, with a little wobble in his voice, he said, “No, sir. I never touched her. She’s a good woman. Like I said.”

“Horse shit. I smell it on her, boy, and you got her sent on you.”

“No, sir. I don’t.”

“You rape that poor woman?”

Tate stood. Towering over the advance man, he was. “Never touched her, sir.”

Mr. Stockton laughed, lifted off his haunches and then turnt to me and Charles. “You there. The near drowned one. What’s your name?”

Charles wasn’t in no condition to answer, so I done it for him. “Charles. His name is Charles.”

“Charles. Okay, boy. It’s up to you. What punishment are we to give ol’ Tate?”

I asked, “What’s he to be punished for?”

“First off, he struck a white woman with a riding crop.”

“At Daddy’s direction.”

“Still, it’s not allowed.”

“You allowed it.”

Mr. Stockton give me a cock-eyed look. “You’re way too young to have this much sass, boy.”

“It ain’t sass. It’s the facts.”

“Don’t you love your momma?”

“She sees it the same as me. Ask her.”

He give a smile. “Can’t right now. She’s spreading her legs and curling her toes for your daddy.”

That rebuilt the fire in me, but I wasn’t fool enough to get at the advance man.

“Which brings me to the second thing. Your momma and this fine negro slave here have been violating the laws of man and nature for a while now. Isn’t that right, Tate?”

Tate looked to the ground. “I’m fit for my punishment, sir. That’s all I know – ”

Mr. Stockton cut him off. “Hold on now. We’ve got more to explore. Fellowes over there, he saw you down by the river. Tell us what you saw, Fellowes.”

The balloon shaped foremen snorted and then spit out a hunk of snot that was thumb-big. “Seen it. Tate’s ol’ black behind was out, bare-ass naked and driving into your momma like a dog from behind. They was having them a grand ol’ time. Least Tate was. Your momma was howling and screaming. She was either enjoying the hell out of it or hating every inch he was pounding into her.”

I stood, the fire leaking out. “That’s a lie.”

“Watch your mouth, boy.”

“And you shut your fat mouth, mister.”

Fellowes come at me.

Mr. Stockton tripped him and sent him tumbling ass over foot to the ground. The other foreman laughed so hard he near pissed himself.

“Goddamn it. I’m done with all this nonsense.” The advance man squatted next to Charles. “What’s it to be? Tate’s punishment. You got the worst of the day, so it’s your call. Normal way to go is lashes, but you ask me, this is way beyond lashes. Especially for a negro like Tate. He’s trouble, that one. Been under the whip so many times, he’s built up callouses on his back. Barely get a squeak out of him these days. But, it is a classic. You might choose it. Other way we go, and it’s rare, but in special cases it’s used. We get a hot iron, and we scorch the hell out of that black as night skin of his. Sizzle it right down to the bone. If it was me, and I had a chance at punishing a mouthy lag who struck my momma and filled her with his seed, I’d go with the hot iron.”

I turnt my hands to fists. “Tate ain’t done nothing wrong. He don’t deserve no kind punishment.”

Mr. Stockton give my point consideration. “Maybe. Suppose that could be an option. It’s up to Charles. His call. He can let Tate walk with nothing but a scolding.” He stood. “Course that leaves the matter of your momma.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means Fellowes saw what he saw.

Fellowes chuckled. “She got split six ways to Sunday by ol’ Tate, she did.”

The advance man nodded. “He’s not wrong about that. I’ve watched that buck stud out. He brings a lot of lumber to the yard. A lot of lumber. Frankly, I’m impressed your momma could take him in. Tiny as she is.”

Fellowes laughed. “Like watching a draft horse humping a squirrel.”

Quick as a flash, I picked up a stone and hurled it the foreman’s way, hitting him square in the one good tooth he had left. He give out a yelp like a wounded animal.

Giving his lip a rub and pulling at his tooth, he said, “You little shit. You knocked my tooth loose.”

Mr. Stockton choked down a laugh. “Relax. It was bound to fall out on its own sooner or later. Kid saved you the suspense.” He jammed the riding crop back in his boot. “Like I was saying, boys, if Tate didn’t do anything wrong, that means your momma give herself willingly to his thundering black ass. Can’t have that. No, sir. That just will not do. We got rights to hang her for corrupting our negro with the lure of that white hornpipe of hers. That is a taste of freedom no black man should ever enjoy. More or less makes her an abolitionist, and we definitely can’t have that. He’s ruined if that’s the case.”

Charles give a look up. The cry and pain’d left him. He was cool anger. “Hot iron. To the bone.”

My brother weren’t the one who said it. It come out his mouth, but the way he said it, what he said, none of it was the Charles I’d know’d since birth. “It ain’t right.”

“He hit momma.”

“To save you from being drowned by daddy.”

“Your daddy was just at play,” Mr. Stockton said.

“Daddy don’t play when it comes to killing.”

Charles snapped. “He bed momma.”

“He didn’t. That ol’ clodhopper is lying through whatever teeth he’s got left.”

“Boy, I will beat you purple.”

Charles stood. “I seen it. She’s a whore. Momma.”

I turnt my fists to him. “Take that back.”

“She sneaks to him at night. She thinks I’m sleeping, but I ain’t slept. Not since Galtville. I ain’t slept a wink.”

“I said take it back.”

Charles grabbed me up by the collar. “I’m the big brother. Stop telling me what to do. Stop acting like you’re the man over me. You ain’t. I’m the oldest. You do what I say. Momma laid with the darkie. Every night. Since he took up in the house. I seen it.”

Fellowes laughed. “I’ll be damned. I was just poking fun at it, but they really done it.”

I worked free from Charles’s grip, but in the tussle he knocked me to the slop of the paddies, and he pounced on my back, grabbing a clawful of my hair at the back of my head. “You think you’re better than me? I’ma kill you.

“Get off me.”

“I’ll do you like daddy done me.”

“Told you, I’m done with this nonsense.” The advance man pult Charles off me and gripped his shirt at the shoulder. “You mean that? You saw your momma and Tate? Together?”

“I said it, didn’t I?”

Mr. Stockton looked to Tate. “The boy telling the truth?”

Tate kept himself quiet.

“Answer me, boy.”

He refused the advance man.

“You’re just making this worse for you.”

This time ol’ Tate give a chuckle.

“What’s funny, boy?”

“Worse for me is every morning I wake up, and I smell your stinkin’ white ass. One day of it is worse than the last.”

The advance man quick grabbed Tate by the throat. It was the first time I seen ire in the man. “I got rights to turn you inside out.”

Tate struggled to breathe under Mr. Stockton’s grip. “I raped her.”

I fount my feet and give Tate a look. He was lying. I know’d it. I seen Momma go to him. He was bringing the noose on purpose.  

“I done it. Turn me inside out. Do what you will. I ain’t got no regrets for what I done. I’d do it again. Even if you were about to hang me from the highest limb for it, and you ask for a last request. I’d say to you, ‘let me at that cracker’s chute. One last time, boss.’”

“She was a good woman just a second ago.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m a liar, too. String me up for that while you’re at it.”

Fellowes’s loose tooth nearly fell away under the stretch of his tight-lipped grin. “Hanging it is.”

Mr. Stockton released Tate. “No one’s to hang. Not over some cracker who can’t keep her legs shut.” He rested the palm of his hand on Tate’s cheek. “He’s gonna get his punishment. This day’ll leave scars for you, boy. Afterall, you are the cause of all this trouble.”

Tate was shaking, and I could see he hated himself for it.

“We need to ugly you up,” The advance man said.” Can’t keep letting you turn the heads of all these white ladies around here. Sooner or later, you might plunge into one that matters.” He turnt to his foremen. “Let’s fire up the forge. Get this business done.”

The clock kicked into ticking as soon as Fellowes turnt on his heels and walked to the barn. The punishment was coming. Pain would be the order of the day. Weren’t no point in Tate running, even if he could. Weren’t a place for him to run to. Running from something gets you a big fat nothing in life. Tate know’d that better than anyone. He’d prefer they kill him, but he knew they wouldn’t. He was his master’s treasure. He was under the grip of greed and weren’t nothing gonna turn him loose from it.

The forge was lit. The fire was stoked. The heat was teased.

Me and Charles was ordered inside the barn. I didn’t have no desire to go, but the advance man give me a smack to change my desire.

Charles marched forge-side with glee and spirit. His soul’d lost every ray of light. He was stewed in total darkness. The world weren’t nothing but his to destroy. Wasn’t nothing going break him again without it getting broke right back.

The fire crackled into a rage, and the iron rod was jammed under the coals. Mr. Stockton pumped the bellows. Air circulated and give excitement to the heat. The heat spread out in boiling ring. The glow of the coal turnt tawny. The advance man stoked the coals with the iron and give Fellowes a nod.

The bloated, near toothless foreman forced Tate to his knees.

The advance man handed Charles a spare pair of blacksmith’s gloves. “This is on you, boy. To the bone. Like you said.”

Charles didn’t give no hesitation. He put on the gloves with joy and pult the iron rod from the forge.

I roared with a panic. “He ain’t done nothing wrong.”

Charles didn’t give my protest nary a thought. He placed the searing end of the rod to Tate’s cheek.

Fellowes gripped the slave’s hair to keep his head still.

The pain was so on-high that Tate couldn’t even scream nor could he pass out into a deep, black sleep. It just ripped at every nerve in his bonded body.

Charles removed the rod after a tick too long, pulling strips of burnt flesh with it. The charred cheekbone peeked through the blackened wound. Tate fount punishment, and Charles fount strength from hate.  

I felt hag-ridden by it all. Seeing Charles take his turn made it clear. We had a sickness, me and him, and it had holt of us forever more. We was Tennysons. We was bred for this.