“You in here, George?”
“Over here, Wes,” George said from the back of the barn.
Wes turned toward his brother’s voice. “Thanks for lettin’ me borrow your horse. It’s a lot better ridin’ on it than that old stiff-legged mule of mine.”
“I don’t know why you ain’t got one of your own. It’d sure make your trips to town and church a lot easier.”
“I’m thinking about it. I just can’t afford one right now.” He put the horse in its stall and removed the saddle and bridle. As he began to rub the sweat from the animal’s back, he spoke. “Do you have time to talk?”
George walked over to the stall, wiping his hands on a rag. “Sure. What do you wanna talk about?”
“Art and I met at Mark’s house, and our little brother told us about this fella who got shot by some Night Riders over in Christian County and died right in front of his family.”
“I heard about a raid, but I didn’t realize they killed the farmer.”
“That’s what Mark said. The constable told him they whipped the fella first and then shot him.”
“That’s not good, Wes. Do you know why they killed him?”
“We might find out in the next few days, but right now it looks like plain old murder.”
Wes hung the sweaty rag over the rail of the stall and took the curry comb George handed him. He started to work on the horse and said, “Last week I talked to a nigger up near the church. The Riders tore up his whole field and then salted it.” George shook his head slowly as Wes continued. “He didn’t have more than a dozen plants left.”
George pulled up a box and sat down in front of the stall as he watched Wes. “What else did you learn in town?”
Wes cleared his throat. “Well there’s a Trust buyer in the county, and he’s goin’ around sayin’ that I made a deal with him.”
George looked directly at his brother. “So you talked to him?”
“I didn’t make no deal with him, if that’s what you mean.” Wes’s voice grew louder.
“Settle down, Wes. I meant no disrespect. I suppose a lot of farmers wanna know what kind of price he’s offerin’. Did he mention a price?”
“He did, but the number ain’t important. What’s important is that he’s tellin’ folks I did somethin’ that I never did. Now I’m likely in trouble with the Association. Art even said there’d been a raid planned on my farm.”
“A raid planned on your farm?” George spit the words out. “Your farm, Wes? That’s serious. They could hurt you and your family after what you just told me. Do you know what you’re gonna do?”
“Nope, just keep my family safe and protect what’s mine.”
“Where did Art hear about the raid?”
“He heard it somewhere, but he won’t tell me who said it.” Even saying the words out loud, sharing them with George, didn’t cool his anger at Art.
“That’s not like Art to hold important information back, is it?”
“No it ain’t, but he’s workin somethin’ out in his head, and he ain’t tellin’ me what it is. I don’t like him keepin’ secrets or us havin’ trouble.”
“Art has those two hired hands workin’ on his farm, don’t he? Maybe he heard it from them. I heard a rumor that Dan Cleary has to keep his eye on ’em ’cause he don’t trust ’em.”
“Art, Mark and I are gonna meet again Monday night. I might ask him then about those two fellas. Like I said, it seems like somethin’ is botherin’ him, so I wanna be real careful and not make him any madder than he already is.”
George spoke up. “It could be Mollie and the children and the pressure of bein’ a farmer and takin’ care of all the other needs.”
“No, it’s somethin’ more. He got real mad at me when he found out I talked with the buyer.”
“Maybe he’s worried about you, Wes. Heck, I’m even worried about you after what you just told me. Zora stopped by last Sunday, and she seemed upset. She talked with Malinda, and after a few words she said it was real important that she talk with me. But when I came in from the barn it seemed she’d changed her mind and was gettin’ ready to leave. I could see tears in her eyes, so I know it must’ve had somethin’ to do with you or the family.” George watched Wes, remembering how sullen his younger brother could get when he was mad. “But I know if you need my help you’ll ask.”
Wes couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Zora had never mentioned her visit on Sunday. Another secret, he thought. He could feel the pressure building in his head, but he held back from asking more of George, thinking he’d deal with it later. Right now there was more he needed to know. Wes sat back on his stool hesitant about asking his next question.
“I’m wondering what you plan on doing with your crop, George.”
George was quiet for a minute. He got up from the box and came into the stall. He took the comb from Wes and started working on the horse. Wes stepped back out of the way and looked at George and saw how old he’d gotten. He waited for his brother to speak.
“As much as we need the money, I think I’m gonna have to join up. I sure don’t want to end up dead like that fella in Christian County, or run out of the county like the other farmer. Besides, Ma’s gettin’ older, and I don’t want anythin’ to happen to her or Malinda or any of the children.” He paused and looked at Wes. “I don’t know, Wes. Joinin’ up just seems like the safest thing to do.”
“I know you gotta do what’s right for you,” Wes said, looking at his brother.
“I sure do,” he said. Then he cleared his throat and wiped the sweat from his face. “Listen, Wes, I gotta know if you’ve really thought about what you’re doin’.” He shook his head and continued. “Not joinin’ the Association is foolish. You or Zora or the children are gonna get hurt or even killed. Why don’t you just let go of your stupid pride and be smart about this? Join up now.”
“Why, you bastard!” shouted Wes, clenching his fists. “Didn’t our pa always tell us to be men, to make our own decisions?” He moved close to George, his rage growing. “You ain’t never stopped tellin’ me what to do. You keep on tryin’ to be the big brother. Well, brother, I’ll tell you this. I am a man and I make my own decisions without any help from you or Art or anyone else. You hear me?” Wes was ready to fight.
George calmly set the curry comb on a shelf and then turned away from Wes and walked out of the stall.
“Where’re you goin’? We ain’t done here,” said Wes, his voice harsh, bitter.
“Oh, we’re done, Wes. I just hope you don’t do somethin’ stupid.” George was bothered by Wes’s anger, but he still loved his brother.
Wes turned away from George and stalked out into the sun. Mad at George and even angrier with Zora, he walked across the field toward his own farm. The thoughts that people were keeping secrets from him and trying to tell him what to do echoed in his head.
* * *
Connie was still sitting on the porch when Wes walked up to the house.
“Is everythin’ quiet, son?”
“Yeah, Pa. There’s not much goin’ on. Ma and the girls are out in the garden, and John Stanley is still up in bed.” Connie stood up from the bench and leaned the shotgun against the wall. He started to walk toward his pa and then turned back to the gun, picked it up and broke it open. “Safer that way,” he said.
“Anthie show up yet?”
“Not yet, but I guess he’ll be home before supper.” Connie stepped into the yard, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He looked at Wes and asked, “Anythin’ new goin’ on in town?”
“Yeah, quite a bit, but we’ll talk about it after supper when we’re all together. You go see if you can help your ma. I’m gonna go up and check on your brother.”
Connie walked away toward the garden, and Wes went into the house and quietly made his way up the stairs to the boys’ bedroom. John S
tanley was lying in the bed, his head propped up against a pillow. The boy’s eyes were closed, and it looked to Wes like he was sleeping. Wes slowly pushed the door open and stepped into the room. When the floor creaked, John Stanley opened his eyes and looked at his pa.
“Sorry, son. Were you sleepin’?”
“I dunno. I guess I was.” He reached up and touched the stitches on his head. “These things sure itch, Pa. How long do I gotta keep ’em in?”
Wes walked over to the window and looked out toward the garden. He saw Connie talking to Zora while Mary Lula and the younger girls pulled weeds. He felt a cool breeze coming through the window as he turned his face toward his son.
“We’ll let your ma decide that, but I expect it’ll be about a week.”
John Stanley closed his eyes and groaned. “When can I get out of bed, Pa? I’m tired of not doin’ anythin’.”
“Maybe you can tomorrow when everybody goes to church. I’ll be stayin’ home with you, so it’ll depend on how you’re feelin’. Are you dizzy or anythin’?”
“Only a little, I guess, but it’s not so bad.”
“Your ma will be up to check on you in a while.” Wes stepped back from the window and walked out the door. I need a drink, he thought as he walked into the kitchen. “How could Zora think it’d be all right to go talk to George about our family?” he mumbled to himself. He reached up on the shelf to get the jug, but pulled his hand back when he heard his family coming toward the porch. Turning quickly away from the shelf, he sat down at the table. That was close, he thought, too close. Wes tried to control his breathing; nearly getting caught had frightened him. If they don’t see me drinkin’, they won’t know if I take a sip now and then.
Mary Lula was first through the door. She was carrying Ruthie and pushing Irene with her free hand.
“Hi, Pa,” she said and then nudged Irene again. “You heard Ma. Go on up and change your clothes.”
The three girls left the kitchen just as Connie and Zora came in.
“How’s John Stanley?” Zora asked, barely acknowledging Wes.
“He’s doin’ better, and he wants to get out of bed,” Wes said. “I told him it’d depend on how he felt tomorrow.” Wes watched Zora’s face.
Connie poured himself a cup of milk, and Zora waited until he left the kitchen. “What did you find out in town? What’d Art and Mark have to say?”
“I found out a lot.”
She waited for Wes to finish what he was saying, but he offered nothing more. “Can’t you tell me somethin’?” she said, anxious for information.
“I’d rather wait, all right? I don’t wanna have to repeat it all. Besides, I gotta get it straight in my head.” His words were clipped, abrupt, and they clearly angered Zora.
Whatever her mood might have been when she came into the kitchen, Wes now knew it had changed. But he didn’t care; in the back of his already-cluttered mind he was still mad at her. She stared hard at him, her lips tightening into a thin line and her forehead wrinkled in a frown.
“I’ll be outside,” he said, rising from his chair and walking out the door. “We’ll talk when Anthie gets home.”
That man makes me so mad sometimes, I think I could scream, she thought. He’s so filled with pride and he doesn’t even know it. She went to the counter and started putting the clean dishes up on the shelf. It wasn’t long before the tears began to well up in her eyes.
* * *
The sun was still high in the west when Anthie turned onto the road about a mile from the farm. He’d spent most of the trip from Sudie’s thinking someday he might marry her, but as he got closer to home, that dream faded and he focused on what he was going to tell his pa. He’d created a list of the important things and thought, Pa’ll be glad I found out all of this. I sure hope he ain’t been drinkin’. I don’t wanna get hit again if I messed up.
“Ma, I’m home!” he yelled, walking into the kitchen. The house felt empty as he headed upstairs to his bedroom. John Stanley was still lying on the bed, his covers pushed down to the end.
“Quit yellin’, would ya? It hurts my head.”
“Where’s Pa?”
“I dunno. If he ain’t in the house, he must be outside.” He looked at his brother for a second and then whispered, “Anthie, thanks for bringin’ me back to the house when…you know.”
“Aw, that’s all right,” he said, a little embarrassed. “When you gonna get out of bed?”
“Pa said maybe I could tomorrow. I sure hope so, ’cause I’m gettin’ tired of layin’ around here doin’ nothin’.”
“Okay then, I’m gonna go find Pa. I got some things to tell him. I’ll see you later.” He turned and left the room.
Anthie found his pa out back of the barn. Wes was splitting logs; each vicious swing of the ax sent the stove wood flying. Connie was quietly stacking the wood and watched his brother approach. A little afraid, Anthie hesitated before he spoke.
“I’m back, Pa. You need any help?”
Wes stood in silence, clutching the ax tightly in his hand before turning toward Anthie.
“Did you find out anythin’ down at Sudie’s?” Wes asked, his voice harsh.
“I sure did. Do you wanna talk about it now?”
“No, I’m almost done here,” he said. “You go find your ma right now and tell her we all need to talk. We’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Where is Ma?”
“I don’t know!” he yelled. “I ain’t seen her for a while.” He paused, remembering how she’d looked when he walked away from her. “She might’ve gone over to see your Aunt Malinda again,” he said, his voice edgy. “Look around the house first, and if you can’t find her, run over there. Tell her to get back home now. It’s important.”
As Anthie turned the corner of the barn, he saw his ma coming down the lane from the road. He stopped by the well and waited for her. When she reached him, he scooped up a cup of water in the ladle and handed it to her. She looked up at him, and he could tell she’d been crying. Her blue eyes were dark, cloudy, and her smile was gone.
“Are you all right, Ma? You look—well, you don’t look happy.”
“I’m fine, son,” she said when she finished sipping the water. “Let’s go inside.”
“Pa says we need to talk about somethin’ important. He’s out behind the barn with Connie. Should I go get ’em now?”
“No. I wanna talk with you first, and then you can get ’em. Come on inside.”
Zora took off her bonnet and set it on the table. She dipped a cloth in the pan of water on the counter and wrung it out. She took a moment to wipe the dust from her face.
“Sit down, son. I wanna ask you somethin’ before we talk to your pa and Connie.”
She pulled a chair away from the table and sat gently on the edge. Anthie waited while she gathered her thoughts. Ma looks sad, he thought, or maybe even a little mad. He didn’t want to interrupt her, so he remained quiet.
Zora cleared her throat. “Before we talk to your pa about his crop, I need to know how you’re thinkin’ about him right now. Are you still mad at him?”
Anthie wasn’t sure how to respond. His ma had never asked him anything like this before. “The truth is, Ma, I guess I’m still a little mad,” he said. “Pa don’t seem to be as angry as he was a few days ago, but he ain’t said anythin’ more to me about last Sunday. I don’t even think he remembers what I said to him when I was carryin’ John Stanley. I’ve tried to stay out of his way and do everythin’ he’s asked.”
While Zora listened to her son, she watched his eyes, looking for the truth in his words.
Anthie continued. “I found out some things today that might help him. Or they might make him madder than he was before. I just know that I gotta tell him everythin’ I heard, Ma.”
“But do you hate him?” she asked, recalling what he’d said
earlier in the week.
Anthie looked away from his ma and thought for a moment. Then he turned back to her and said, “I don’t know, Ma. I guess I’m still thinkin’ about it.”
“It’ll be all right, Anthie.” She touched his face and held him close for a moment. She forced a smile onto her face as she looked at him. “You go out and get your pa and your brother. I’ll make some coffee and we can hear what he has to say.”
* * *
A light breeze fluttered the curtain hanging over the kitchen window. Wes sat slumped at his spot at the table, his head bowed, searching for the words to start the discussion. Zora watched her husband, but made no attempt to help him. He’s got to say what’s on his mind, she thought, and I can’t do it for him. She looked across the table and saw that both Connie and Anthie had turned away from their pa, as if they were giving him time or space to think. That’s good, boys, she thought. Let him work it out.
Wes stared for a moment at the blowing curtain and listened to the distant laughter of his daughters as they played in the yard. He sat up straighter in the chair, pulled his shoulders back and turned to look at his wife and sons. His face was ashen, but his eyes seemed filled with fire.
“Before I tell you what I know and what I think it means for the family, I want to hear what Anthie learned down at the Morris farm. There’s a lot goin’ on, and we all need to hear it and talk about it before any decision gets made.” Trying to keep his voice calm, he looked at Anthie and nodded slightly. “Go ahead.”
Anthie had decided during his ride home that he’d tell his pa the easy things first. He thought if he told about the killing his pa would be really mad and that wouldn’t be good., So, he told him that Mr. Morris had asked about their tobacco and what they were going to do about the Association.
Death in the Black Patch Page 19