Horrible Harvest

Charles seen right off that he’d clipped his wagon to the wrong horse. Daddy was down, twitching this way and that. My brother by a whole, he just stepped backwards into the house, looking for a place to hide.

Momma stood over Daddy, hir fingers curled at the knuckles. She was a wild animal bearing her claws. Her hair hung free to her shoulders, out of its normal bun atop her head. She was breathing heavy, giving grunts with each exhale. When she could calm herself enough to talk, she said, “He’s still alive.”

The advance man said, “Still alive is how I want him,”

“It’s not how I want him.”

“He dies, debt transfers to you. That what you want?”

She stepped away from Daddy. “He dies, the farm is yours.”

“That’ll cover about a tenth of what he owes.”

“It’s all he’s got. You can keep him breathing, but you’ll never get another dime from him.”

Mr. Stockton called out to his foremen. “Get him on a rig. Fellowes, you get him to Rex. Quick as you can. Man’s in need of medical attention.”

The two foremen done as ordered and scooped up the one-eyed monster.

Momma watched them carrying him to the barn. “Rex?”

“Mr. Miller’s main estate.”

She give a chuckle. “King.”

“Ma’am?”

“Rex. It’s Latin for King. Your Mr. Miller has crowned himself. He’s declared himself a royal. Tell me, does he shit on a golden throne, too?”

“Mrs. Tennyson, he’s Cameron Miller. He shits wherever he goddamn wants to. You might want to keep that in mind.” He stepped off the porch. “We should discuss how things are going to work going forward.”

“What about Tate?”

“What about him?”

“He’s injured. He needs medical attention, too.”

“He’ll get it.”

“When?”

“Tate’s not your concern, Mrs. Tennyson.”

“I insist you see that he’s taken care of. Right away.”

“As I said, he’s not your concern. In fact, it’s in your best interest to keep you distance from him, ma’am.” He give her a cold stare. “You need to put him all the way out of your mind.”

She didn’t give no response. She knew what he was hinting at, but I suspect she didn’t give much of a damn what he thought of her.

“Things have changed around here. Your days of giving orders are done. Understood?”

“No. I don’t understand.”

“What’s got you stumped?”

“I heard you. You told Horace the labor is not free.”

“That’s right. The deal is off.”

“Then I assume that means you’re leaving. You and your men. There will be no one around for me to give orders to.”

“We’re not leaving. We’ll see it through ‘til harvest. Take it to market. We’ll keep the proceeds, of course.”

 She folded her arms over her bosom. “You’ll steal the proceeds, you mean.”

“Call it what you want. Money is owed Mr. Miller. Money will be paid to Mr. Miller. As of this moment, proceeds from the sale of that rice belong to Mr. Miller.”

“Says who?”

“You ask too many questions you already know the answer to, Mrs. Tennyson. Mr. Miller has a right to lay claim to the proceeds from the sale of the rice because Mr. Miller says he has the right to lay claim to those proceeds. His property was damaged. He will collect compensation in kind.”

“Stop calling Tate property. He’s not property.”

Mr. Stockton give Momma a cockeyed look. “You got a fool’s view of the world for a smart woman. Tate come with a bill of sale. That makes him property. He was bought and paid for. That makes him property. He’s livestock, little lady. That’s what he is. That makes him property. Same as cattle. Same as pigs. Any notion he’s anything but is misguided and imprudent. Just because you fucked him doesn’t mean he’s not owned by Mr. Miller.”

She give her lip a snarl. “And you, sir. Are you Mr. Miller’s property, too?”

He give her a smile. “You and your boys, you’ll remain in the house until such time that I deem it safe for y’all to leave.”

“That’s ridiculous. We’re in no danger.”

He cocked-up his cockeyed stare even more. “I just saw you beat your husband down to one eye with a frying pan, missus. I’m not keeping you safe. I’m keeping us safe.”

“You’re scared of tiny little old me? I can’t tell you how deeply satisfied that makes me feel.”

“Not scared of you, exactly. I’m scared I’ll have to shoot you. Mr. Miller’s got plans for you that require you to not be dead.” He headed for the barn.

Momma give out like she was gonna shout questions or cusswords or hexes, but she stopped herself before the first word stepped off her tongue.

I followed after him. Not directly. I moved off, around the edge of the first paddy, until I was standing at the open doorway to the barn. Fellowes and the other foreman hitched one of the bays to the rig. Daddy was laid out in the back. He wheezed out uneven breaths with a number of moans thrown in here and there.

Mr. Stockton caught eyes on me. “Onto the house, boy.”

“He don’t need no medical attention. He’s fit for jail. That’s where you oughta take him.”

“We’re taking him where we’re taking him. Your thoughts on the matter don’t particularly interest me. Go onto the house, like I said.”

“What about Tate?”

“Are you deaf or just dumb because I’ve told you twice now to go to the house, and you’re still standing there asking me fool questions.”

“He’s bad off. He needs looking after.”

“Does he now? You know what I need?”

“You need me to go to the house.”

The advance man give his nose a tap with his finger. “Nailed it, boy. Now get on.”

“Why aren’t the hands working?”

“Moses in a basket. You’re as mouthy and maddening as your mother.”

“Daddy, he always has us in the paddies before the sun shows.”

“Is that right? Maybe you should go ask your daddy how he feels about that this morning.”

I give the rig a look. “Don’t have to. I already know what he’d say.”

“Yeah, and what’s that?”

“He’d say paddies ain’t flooded enough. He’d say your third flood is low. He’d say to open the gate. Bring up the water, he’d say.”

“That’s what he’d say, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There was enough water yesterday to almost drown your brother. What would he say about that?”

I give a shrug. “Don’t know his thoughts on drowning. I know his thoughts on rice. Third flood ain’t deep enough.”

Mr. Stockton give a sigh and hung his head. “Fine. We’ll flood the paddies. Anything else?”

“Seen a frigatebird this morning.”

“A what?”

“A frigatebird.”

“Okay. So? Is that special or some kind of superstitious nonsense?”

“Means a storm’s coming. Hurricane.”

“Bird told you that?”

“No, sir. Frigatebirds can’t talk. They’s sea birds. They don’t come this way. Not on the normal, they don’t.”

“Smart birds. I’ve been here a week, and I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.”

“Only thing that pushes them this way is bad weather.”

The advance man give his beard stubble a scratch. “You got all that from one bird?”

“One bird’s the start. Flock of ‘em comes? That’s when you know we’re in for it.”

“Noted.” He bent down to the my eyelevel. “You know your rice. You know your birds. I’m impressed. Now do you know what I want?”

“For me to get on to the house.”

He give me a grin.

I anchored in.

“I’m gonna bring a whole different kind of storm your way if you don’t move your ass on the double.” He leant in so close, I could feel that heat from his rotten breath.

“What about Tate?”

He give a growling sigh. “Fellowes.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Throw Tate on the rig. Get him looked after.”

“Yes, sir.”

I exited the barn.