Horrible Harvest

An hour after nightfall, the vigilance committee set up camp. Mr. Stockton huddled with the white fellas, including Douglas, and give them instruction in secret. They didn’t raise no objections to anything that was said. When he was done saying his piece, they approached the slaves and barked out this order and that. They was to retrieve provisions from the saddlebags and stir up a meal. Beyond that, building a fire and tending to the general comfort of the whites was to be their concern. The four was give warning that any attempts to run would be met with unkind recompence.

I watched after them for a time. The farmhand years that run through my blood give me the urge to pitch in and help, but I know’d such a thing wouldn’t be allowed.

Douglas was assigned the task of watching over us Miller men. He done so with the kind of care and gentleness daddy’d raised him with.

“You three sit and mind your moods because I ain’t got the delicate nature to coddle you. You step out of line; I’ll step on your throat until you’re blue in the face.”

Kenneth weren’t used to being spoke to in such a manner by anyone other than his daddy, and maybe Mr. Stockton. “My father will have you skinned alive if you lay a hand on me, sir.”

Douglas held up his hand. “Boy, you see this? This does your daddy’s dirty work. I do his skinning.”

I give a laugh.

“Wha-choo laughing at?”

“You.”

“I say something funny?”

“Yeah, you did. You got this idea that you’re on Mr. Miller’s preferred list ‘cause you break things for him. You might wanna open your eyes and take a look at the lineup of crackers on this ride tonight. They’s all hired to do the same as you. Ain’t a one of them mean more than shit on a shoe to Kenneth’s daddy, and boy, you’re just the same as them.”

“Just ‘cause you got yourself tall don’t mean you can overstep with me, little brother.”

“Half-brother.”

“Where we headed?”

We’s all looked to Charles. He’d asked the question as if he hadn’t heard a word of the spat building between me and Douglas.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. We ain’t gonna deliver handshakes and hugs when we get there. That’s all I know. Don’t but one person know where we’re headed and what we’re to do when we get there, and I ain’t asking him. You wanna ask, you go right ahead.”

Mr. Stockton whistled and called for Douglas to join him.

“You three hold your water and don’t cause no trouble. I’ll be back.” He quick stepped it to Mr. Stockton.

Charles leant in towards me and Kenneth. “Wha-choo reckon this is all about?”

I give a glance to the group of whites chatting on the other side of the small encampment. “I reckon we’re in a watch and learn situation.”

“Learn what?”

“Nothing good is all I’m willing to wager.”

I turnt a gaze to the slaves preparing the evening meal. Tate directed the others with kind authority. They was all terrified, and he spent his energy trying to settle their nerves.

Kenneth directed my attention back to our conversation. “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”

I give him direction to keep his voice down. “Don’t let yourself get out of sorts. It’s not in your best interest.”

Charles give a smile.

“I want to go home.”

The smile grow’d bigger by a mile. “The prince is onto something. He should get on over there and tell Mr. Stockton he’s fit to go home.”

“Shut up, Charles.”

“I’m just saying. He’s Mr. Miller’s son. What’s Mr. Stockton gonna say? No? When you cook it all down, Kenneth outranks his daddy’s advance man every day of the week. Get on, Kenneth. You go tell Mr. Stockton what’s what.”

“I said shut up, Charles.” I locked eyes with Kenneth. “None of us wanna be here. Any fool can see we’re headed for ugly on top of ugly. That’s just plain to see. But it’s also plain to see choice ain’t a thing to be had in this matter.”

He give my argument consideration and then shook his fool head. “I’m going home. You can come with me, or you can stay, but I’m leaving.”

Before I could stop him, he was halfway to Mr. Stockton. Me and Charles watched as Kenneth approached the advance man. We couldn’t hear a word said ‘tween the two, but it was clear as glass that Kenneth was making demands. He’d taken Charles’ opinion to heart. He was using up all the authority he believed he had. Mr. Stockton barely said three words back.

The dressing down done, the advance man give a grin, turnt to Douglas, give a nod, and stepped back. Douglas kicked Kenneth in the crack of his ass with such force, Mr. Miller’s boy’s knees buckled. He collapsed to the ground and let out a deep-gut yelp. The next kick hit Kenneth square in the stomach. Douglas grabbed up the little prince by the back of the hair and lifted his head back.

“That’s enough.” Mr. Stockton turnt to me and Douglas. “You two have anything you want to add?”

Charles was quick to answer. “Nah, sir.”

I scanned the faces of the others in the camp. Everyone appeared as if they was made uneasy by the beating of Kenneth. Not a one of them was safe from the same hell visiting them. I cleared my throat. “I got a question.” I’d been beaten by Horace Tennyson on more occasions than I could give count. Whatever Mr. Stockton had to offer up weren’t a goddamn thing to worry about.

Mr. Stockton raised an eyebrow. “Ask away, young Tennyson.”

“Where we headed?”

The answer come in a single word. “Church.” He whistled. “Let’s get out the grub and get back on the trail. Breakout the whisky, as well. Might as well meet up with Jesus with love in our hearts and liquor in our bellies.”

He directed Douglas to let go of Kenneth, and then squatted down next to the whimpering boy of his beloved leader. “You’re just fine, young sir.”

Kenneth worked like the devil to control his crying. “Father is going to have your hide.”

Mr. Stockton give a smile. “Boy, your father is the one that gave me instruction to make a man out of you tonight. Make sure it’s done by fire, he said. He wants you hardened. Like the Tennyson boys. This is the night of your rebirth, Kenneth. Tonight, you become the kind of man that can run the Miller empire. That’s what your father wants. That’s what I’m gonna give him.” He lovingly and lightly slapped Kenneth’s chubby cheeks. “Go on now. Sit with your friends and don’t make any more trouble. This time tomorrow, you’ll be home snug in your bed. Until then, you’re mine.”

Kenneth struggled to stand. He cradled his stomach and stumbled back to me and Charles. He set and hugged his knees, whimpering something awful.

“Hold it back.”

He ignored my advice.

“Kenneth, hold back your tears, or they are gonna bring another beating your way.”

“I wanna go home.”

“Not gonna happen. Not tonight. We’re in for what we’re in for, and we’re just gonna have to hold tight.”

“I’m scared.”

“No kidding. You ain’t exactly keeping it a secret.”

“Shut up, Charles. If you’ve got half a brain in that head of yours, you’d be scared, too.”

“You saying you’re scared?”

“That’s what I’m saying.”

“Y’all are looking at this all wrong. We’re the only Miller men here tonight. That means we’re it. We’re the highest of the high. We rule the others. We are king shits, boys.”

“Shit’s still shit, brother. This ain’t nothing to celebrate. We all just need to settle down and pucker up. Whatever’s coming our way is coming no matter how we feel about it. Let’s just cease all talk and ride this thing out.”

Tate appeared before us. Tin plates in hand. Hardtack and dried apples. His jaw is clenched tight and there was a twitch to his left eye. He was holding back a bundle of nerves.

We took our food rations without offering a word, and Tate give us nothing but a tiny smile ‘fore he returnt to the slave side of the fire.

Whisky was shared with uncommon generosity among the older fellas, even the slaves, an unusual practice. Stranger still, the slaves was encouraged to drink more than the whites. All but Tate did so with a great deal of glee. Tate chewed on his hardtack and stared nervously at his tin cup full of liquor.

A slave named Peck slurped from his cup. “This is some fine libations. Mighty fine.”

Arthur, embolden by Peck’s proclamation, give a grin. “Smooth as silk, it is.”

Mr. Stockton raised his cup. “Why thank you, gentlemen. It’s imported from London. A gift to you all from my personal stash.”

Tate took him a small sip from his cup. “A gift for what, sir?”

“For joining me on this night, Tate. For being a part of a momentous occasion.”

“Thought we was going to church.”

All eyes turnt to me, the dumb fool who dared speak.

The advance man drunk from his cup. “Where better for a momentous occasion? Drink up.”

A cracker moved to his mount and pult another bottle of whiskey from his saddlebag. “We got plenty more, too, boys.” He handed it to a young slave named Caleb, who stared at the bottle for a better part of a minute ‘fore raising it above his head as if he’d won some grand trophy.

A round of cheers and hoots and hollers whipped out the mouths of every man in the camp ‘cept Tate.

Me and him shared a glance. We was of like-mind. Something foul was surely afoot. The white men was playing at drinking. Their cups weren’t but damp with liquor.

The strange scene played out for the next half an hour or so, with the slaves drinking more and more. The crackers continued their game of raising near empty cups to their lips and making a show of slurping up the alcohol.

Tate’s slow drinking got noticed, and he was shamed into drinking more. It become clear that he’d drink it himself, or the crackers would get it down his gullet one way or another. The slaves were meant to be drunk. For what reason, only Mr. Stockton know’d.

When they come to the point where they couldn’t hardly stand without struggle, the call to mount up come from Mr. Stockton. Somehow, Tate willed himself to hold on to a touch of sobriety. He know’d something evil was coming, and he tried like the Devil to keep the drunkenness at bay.

He climbed atop his horse with difficulty, but without aid, while the other three slaves have to be helped into their saddles. They let out hoots once they was in position. Tate furrowed his brow and fought to hold on to a clear head.

One of the crackers is ordered to hand out torches to the others before mounting his own horse.

Mr. Stockton called on the vigilance committee to move out. Just like that, we was church bound.