Good Ground

by Tracy Winegar

  “Thank you, kindly,” Ellis stated with his head cocked slightly, not wavering in his determination. He reached over and plucked a couple sticks of penny candy from the glass jars filled with colorful sweets that lined the edge of the clerk’s counter. “I’ll take these too.” He held them up for the clerk to see and then scooped up one of the boxes. “Put all this here on my tab,” he informed the clerk. “Clairey, you come on over and hep me with these boxes.”

  Clairey reluctantly obeyed. She took the other box and followed him as he left the store. It wasn’t until they got to the truck that she felt she could breathe again, her churning stomach finally settled. She slid the boxed groceries into the bed of the truck, relief spreading through her insides. She caught Ellis looking at her, his anger not completely abated yet, but he, too, seemed to have relaxed a little.

  “What’d you have done if he said no?”

  “He never’d have said no.” Ellis grunted and shook his head. “He’s yella,” he said in disgust.

  “But what if he had?” she persisted.

  “Don’t matter what I’d a-done. He didn’t say no, now, did he?” He handed her a stick of candy and popped the other like a cigar into his mouth. “I’m goin’ to the hardware. You comin’?”

  Every girl longs for a hero, perhaps even needs a hero, as the most fundamental of ideas, to make existence seem worthy and noble. Clairey never had anyone fill those shoes before now. No one had ever come charging in to save her, to rescue her from oppressors and abusers. Suddenly, she saw Ellis in a new way. There was something in her regard for him that shifted ever so slightly, that allowed room for an emotion that was new to her. Was it affection? Clairey wasn’t sure because it was like nothing she had felt before—a warmth that seemed to penetrate her chilled heart, a lightness that made her want to smile, although she couldn’t remember how just yet.

  Chapter 16

  ELLIS TOOK THE SEEDS he had gotten from town and planted them carefully in a bed of soil near the tree line, safely protected by a canvas cover in the sun. The memory of his daddy doing the same thing came to mind. He couldn’t have been more than four or five, just to his daddy’s thigh, when he’d first tagged along. He remembered how his daddy had poked a hole with his pointer finger, dropped a few small seeds in, covered it with the displaced dirt, and gave it a generous watering with a bucket and ladle he carried with him before he moved on to the next one.

  “Ellis,” he said. “You’re watchin’ a miracle right under your nose.” He gave a few of the seeds to Ellis and let him drop them into the hole he had already made. “In each of them little things, God put life. Now you take care with it, and you feed it with water and sunlight. And, most important of all of ’em, put it in good ground, and that life is gonna sprout right out.”

  “How, Daddy?”

  “Don’t know, son. Only the good Lord knows the secret to that. But that’s how all livin’ things is. You care for ’em and feed ’em and give to ’em, and they grow. Same with people, same with an animal, same with a terbacca plant. ’Cause the good Lord, he knowed what he’s a-doin’. He’s smart that a-way.”

  “What d’you mean, Daddy? Plants and people, they ain’t the same.”

  “Sure they is, boy. Sure they is. What happens if you don’t give no water to a plant?”

  “It’s gonna die.”

  “Yessir. And if you don’t give somebody kind words and treat ’em right, it’s the same thing. They gonna die inside. All life, whether it be seed or person, is sacred in the eyes of our Lord. You gotta respect it, you see? You reap what you sow, boy. You sow good, you reap good. You sow bad, and by and by, you gonna reap it too. Understand?”

  “No, Daddy,” he complained. “It don’t make no sense.”

  Jim chuckled and gave his little son a pat on the back. “You’ll see it someday when you get to be a man.”

  “We’s plantin’ terbaccer?”

  “Yes, son.”

  “So’s we gonna get good or bad?”

  “We gonna get terbacca. Just terbacca. That’s all.” He laughed.

  Ellis watched the seedlings vigilantly for signs that the little plants were ready to be set in the ground in the main field, just as his daddy had taught him. While he waited, he and Clairey planted a generous garden in neat rows just off to the side of the house so it wouldn’t be far for her to go to tend to it, planting extra corn—nearly an acre of it—to be dried and put away for the livestock come winter. Likewise, Ellis planted several acres of hay to put away for the same reason. Now that it was springtime, still cool but warm enough to prepare for the crop, the two of them worked from dawn till dusk, getting the earth ready for the year’s yield.

  Ellis and Clairey were in the field plowing when Forster Montgomery came around. They labored side by side, he with a plow behind a mule and she removing rocks ahead of him, both working to keep the furrow straight and stumbling over the red clods being turned over. Occasionally Clairey would slip away to tend to other chores and make preparations for their evening meal, but she’d return to the field as soon as she could.

  Making a turn at the end of a furrow, Ellis noticed Forster standing next to the rail fence, watching him and Clairey at their work. He pulled the reins, halting the mule, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief before he put his hat back on. It was late afternoon and already growing chilly, but he’d exerted himself enough to work up a good sweat.

  “How is it with you, Ellis?” Forster called out.

  “Well, I’ll be. What you been up to, Forster?”

  “Nothin’ much.”

  Ellis grinned. “Sounds ’bout right.”

  Although Forster should have been offended by his comment, Ellis saw he was still his good-natured self. His friend couldn’t resist joining in the laughter, knowing Ellis was poking fun at him.

  Ellis looked over at Clairey who had stopped what she was doing and was watching the scene with interest. She did not know Forster, and therefore didn’t know what a prankster he was known to be. She looked from him to Forster and then back to him again. He could see the curiosity in her eyes. She was probably surprised by his lighter side. For a fleeting moment, he was sorry that she hadn’t seen it before, that he was always so serious around her.

  “We’ll knock off for the day,” he called to her. “You go on up to the house, and I’ll be up direc’ly.”

  She brushed her hands against themselves and then her dress to rid herself of loose earth. As she moved past Forster, she did her customary nod, and he tipped his hat ever so slightly to her. She had been working since before the sun went up, and it showed. Her face was weary, streaked with dirt and perspiration, the ever-worn dress needing a good washing after working in the furrows all day.

  Ellis finished off the row he’d been working on, unhitching the mule from the plow once he’d reached the end of his straight and precise line. The mule’s ears perked in anticipation of being fed and receiving a rest. Ellis clicked his tongue, goading the mule to move, heading for the barn. Forster fell into step next to him.

  Ellis didn’t speak; he waited. He knew that Forster had something to say, and he didn’t want to spoil it for him. The wait was short.

  “It’s been goin’ round town you done gone and got yourself a woman. Clifton said he heard tell you’s murried. When he tole me, I thought it was a lie.”

  Ellis clicked his tongue again at the mule. “Come on, Katie girl.” Without looking at Forster, he replied, “I reckon it weren’t no lie.”

  “They say she’s a Davenport.”

  “I reckon that’s factual too.”

  “What you messin’ round with them Davenports for?” Forster grilled as he stopped in his tracks to face Ellis with his disapproval head on.

  Ellis ignored his dramatic stance and kept walking, and Forster, once he saw Ellis was not impressed, was forced to jog a step or two to catch up.

  “Now I need your blessin’ as to who I go a-courtin’?” Ellis said matter-o
f-factly. “Besides, she ain’t no Davenport no more.”

  “I can’t understand it,” Forster said, looking genuinely perplexed. “Was you hopin’ to gall Dulcie Mae, ’cause there be purtier girls what would have you. Hell, look at that gal Fergus Bayard done got hisself. She’s a fine thing. It’d have got her better if you’d have got a purty ’un.”

  “Don’t have nothin’ to do with Dulcie Mae,” Ellis said flatly. “Why you gotta go and bring her up for? I ain’t talked of her in two years or more.”

  “Don’t gotta say her name. A man can think it just the same, can’t he?”

  “Got nothin’ to do with Dulcie Mae,” Ellis said again.

  “It don’t make no sense. What for then?”

  Embarrassed by Clairey’s appearance and her family name, and galled by Forster’s accusations, Ellis said, “Clairey’s a real hard worker, and I could use two sets of hands round here. ’Sides, she can fix a spread better’n anythin’ I ever tasted. And she don’t complain none or ask for nothin’. She’s a real easy gal to get along with. Just a real fine gal.”

  “So you done murried her ’cause she can work and cook?” Forster asked in disbelief.

  Ellis yanked on the mule’s halter and turned to face his friend. “Don’t see how it’s none of your concern. Not like you’d understand anyhow. I’m puttin’ out twice as much as I did last year, and I got me some beef cattle in that pasture up yonder that I done got from Curtis Bowler, and you got nothin’.”

  Ellis could see that Forster was enjoying the show. He knew his friend was more than pleased by the fact that he had gotten under his skin.

  Forster was grinning pleasantly as he said, “Ain’t got no woman in my bed to keep it warm neither. You forgot that ’un.”

  “And you ain’t got that ’cause your mama never taught you no manners, Forster. Gal’s don’t like crude talk. You ort not talk about a girl that a-way ’cause it ain’t respectful.” It irked him that if Forster knew the whole truth—that he and Clairey were married in name only—his friend would have poked some real fun at him.

  They reached the barn, and Trapper, who was lying in the dirt, got up and came faithfully to Ellis as he led the animal into the barn. The old mule knew which stall was hers and didn’t need to be prodded any further; she headed right for it. Ellis took the harness off and hung it from a wooden peg just outside the stall and then opened the swinging door to let the old mule in. He forked some hay into her manger and checked to see there was still water in her trough before coming back to Forster who was waiting for him.

  “Now you knowed I’s just messin’ with you,” Forster replied with a twinkle in his eyes.

  “That’s the trouble with you. You done messed round, and now you ain’t got nothin’ to show for yourself.” Although his words were somewhat harsh, he was smiling when he said it, and the two of them laughed together again.

  There was no use in pointing out Forster’s shortcomings. Forster already knew them all and didn’t particularly care one way or the other if he was successful or not. Everything was in good fun to him, and he could laugh as easily at himself as he could everyone else. “I ain’t disputin’ it. Ain’t got the good sense God give me,” he agreed.

  After Ellis had tended to Clairey’s mule, he said, “Come on up to the house. Share my meal with me, and then you can go on and get back to town and tell all them there cacklin’ hens what you done found out.”

  “Awful generous of you. And I aim to take you up on that offer,” Forster accepted, trailing along next to Ellis. “See just how fine her cookin’ really is.”

  They came into the house just as Clairey was pulling a steaming cast iron pan from the stove, exchanging it with another pan filled with batter that she slipped back in its place to bake. She looked up as they came through the door. Ellis thought she eyed Forster uneasily; he knew she was probably distrustful of him, as was her nature. She quickly returned to her tasks, turning the piping hot pan over and dumping the fresh batter bread onto a plate, the aroma wafting temptingly about the room. She gave the impression of being acutely self-conscious in the presence of the stranger Ellis called a friend, her hands in constant motion, fluttering nervously to her loose curls to try to smooth them and then down to her apron to pull it straight. Ellis noticed that she’d tried to make herself a little more presentable by washing her face and hands and running a comb through her hair.

  “Forster’s gonna stay for supper,” Ellis informed her.

  “We ain’t got but two spoons,” she reminded him gently.

  “We just gonna have to share, is all.” He went over to the wash basin, noticing that the water was fresh. Clairey must have dumped it and refilled it for him when she had finished with it herself. “Smells real good,” he told her as he toweled off after washing his face and hands.

  “It ain’t much. Soup beans and bread,” she said apologetically. “I had them beans on since this mornin’, and I come up to start the bread an hour or so ago.” She set the table, putting the pot of beans and bread in the center. Ellis and Forster sat down, good and ready for a meal, and Clairey chose the seat next to Ellis.

  Ellis bowed his head and clasped his hands, and the others followed suit. He offered a blessing on the food, and in true farmer fashion, asked the good Lord to prosper his fields and crops. If anyone had sway over his sweet tobacco, surely it would be God, whose hand created all things. He always prayed, but his prayers were more fervent come planting time. He ended with an “amen,” and Clairey and Forster copied him before the beans were dished out and the bread was broken into chunks of crispy-on-the-outside and soft-on-the-inside deliciousness.

  The black beans floated in a thick broth that Ellis sopped up with his batter bread, eating it ravenously. It might have only been beans, but it was marvelous. When he caught sight of Forster, his expression said it all. He, too, was enjoying the meal, and Ellis felt a small swell of pride as he took his next bite of Clairey’s batter bread.

  “What Clifton be up to anyhow?” Ellis asked. “I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since…well, since my daddy died.”

  Clairey offered him the spoon, and he took it, digging out another full load of beans. He passed it back to her when he was finished so she could have a turn with it. Ellis was suddenly very aware of her hand brushing his as she took the spoon back.

  “It’s just Clifton. He ain’t up to no good.”

  “Coulda guessed it, I s’pose. You boys ever gonna settle down, make yourselves respectable?”

  He was finding it difficult to carry on a conversation, suddenly aware of a new emotion that plagued his consciousness. Clairey sat with him, as she had many times before, but this time seemed different somehow. He felt a measure of pride in her. In articulating to his friend her many qualities, Ellis had found, to his surprise, things about Clairey that he admired and liked. The act of defending her had invoked feelings of fondness he never knew he had for her. He’d never really thought about it before because there never was a need to.

  She had always been nothing more than a shadow. He’d had no regard one way or another for her. She was just there, like hired help or a servant. But he began to see how significant her contributions were to him. Clairey’s skills were a reflection upon him. She had provided him with a proper home and the ability to increase his possessions. She was valuable to him.

  There was more to it than Ellis was able to process through, feelings he couldn’t completely understand. He was becoming aware of her physical self as well. In all these long months, they had rarely touched. Yet there he was, sharing a spoon with her. There was something terribly intimate about it, watching the spoon glide from between her full lips, their hands grazing one another in just the hint of a touch, and then putting that same spoon between his own lips. At one point, her knee encountered his leg beneath the table in an innocent nudge, and Ellis felt a flush spread over his face, as if he had been caught doing something taboo in front of his friend, something private and surreptitious. />
  “I aim to head out to Oklahomie,” Forster said, shoving another generous spoonful into his mouth.

  The declaration was enough to jog Ellis from his contemplative moment. He stopped mid-chew, considering Forster’s announcement. His eyes narrowed. “You foolin’?”

  “I ain’t,” he answered matter-of-factly.

  “What for?”

  “Met a feller that’s got hisself a dairy farm, a big ’un, and he done offered me work. Says he’ll pay my way and all.”

  “What’d your daddy gotta say ’bout that?” Ellis asked.

  “Not much. He got four more boys can hep him out with the farm an’ all, so’s he don’t think it a bad notion.”

  “And your mama?”

  “I give her nothin’ but trouble since the day I’s born. Prob’ly glad to see me go,” he joked.

  “Oklahomie, huh? Why you wanna go there for?”

  “Seems like anywhere’s better’n here,” Forster said with a shrug. “Got nothin’ holdin’ me, you know. And I ain’t gonna be free to do it for much longer afore I get tied down and got no choice in it.”

  “Never thought I’d see the day,” Ellis replied. “You leavin’ Pickett County? Never thought you would.”

  “Come on, now. You’d prob’ly tag along with if you didn’t go on and get yourself a wife.” He grinned across the table at Clairey who grew troubled.

  Ellis observed that Clairey did not find his jest funny. It was particularly disturbing given the circumstances surrounding their marriage. He sensed that this was probably what she was thinking when Forster made his thoughtless comment. But Forster knew none of this. Still, Ellis felt the need to defend Clairey, to ease her discomfort.

  “It don’t matter if I got a wife. I still got this here place and my daddy’s place too. It’s enough, ain’t it? I need to get up there and see to my daddy’s place soon, make sure it’s in order, but I ain’t found the time. ’Tween this place and his, I got my hands full. What’d I want with Oklahomie anyhow?”