Kaidenberg's Best Sons

by Jason Heit

  “Damn it!” said Bernhard. He set Elisabetha on the ground.

  “What is it?” Katherine asked.

  “Frank,” he said, and he ran to the children. The other kids were standing over Frank when Bernhard got there. Ignaz and Lambert each grabbed one of Frank’s arms and hoisted the boy up.

  Bernhard looked Frank over; his hands were covered in fresh scrapes. He turned to Ignaz – the boy had more than a foot on Frank. Bernhard felt his insides boil. “You stupid kid.” The boy stood there, frozen, looking like he didn’t know whether to pee his pants or run off. Bernhard picked Ignaz up like a young calf, forced him over his knee, and spanked the boy on the buttocks three times. “Don’t be pushing the little ones.” Spittle shot from Bernhard’s mouth.

  Ignaz stood holding his backside while he held back his tears.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” Frank said. “We were only playing a game.”

  Bernhard shook his head at the boy. “He’s older than you. He should know better.” Then he turned to Lambert. “And you! You have to stand up for your cousin next time someone pushes him.”

  Lambert looked down at the ground. “Yes, sir.”

  Another voice called from behind them. “Leave those boys alone!” It was Kaspar Feist. The old man was hobbling toward him as fast as his legs would go and looking as angry as a bull. Behind him Nels hurried to catch up.

  “He pushed Frank,” said Bernhard.

  “You talk like you’ve never pushed another man in your life,” Kaspar scoffed.

  “Why do you care? This ain’t your boy.”

  “He’s my blood,” Kaspar said. “That might not mean much to you, but it means something to me.”

  Nels made up the distance and stepped between Bernhard and Kaspar. Holding his arms up between them, Nels looked from one to the other as he spoke. “No sense turning this into part of the war between you two – this is just boys being boys.”

  “I don’t have no problem here,” Bernhard said. “The Feist boy just needed some straightening out.”

  Nels shook his head. “These boys are big enough to sort things out themselves.”

  Bernhard kicked the ground, tearing the mottled lichen and thin prairie grass from the dirt. If it’d been someone other than Nels talking to him like this he’d have knocked them back into their place. Still, maybe, Nels was helping him out. He could feel the weight of the folks watching in the distance. Bernhard spat at the dirt he’d laid bare; his bleak eyes narrowed in on the Feist boy, bidding him to wash the scowl from his face. The boy clenched his jaw and lowered his eyes to the mark Bernhard left in the sod.

  “Now don’t push so much,” Nels said to the boys. “It’s the Lord’s day.” Then he turned to Kaspar and Bernhard. “Let’s go.”

  “Watch yourself,” Kaspar warned Bernhard, and he followed Nels back to the diamond.

  Bernhard shook his head in disgust. He’d heard enough of the old man’s threats to last him a lifetime. Yet, it was Nels who’d disappointed him. He should stand up for his blood. Didn’t he understand how important Little Frank was? He was the last link to his father – without the boy there was nothing but a dead man in a grave.

  He walked back to the diamond thinking he needed a drink.

  -

  Joseph was at the plate. He hit a fly ball to the infield that was easily caught by the shortstop, Jakob Feist. Joseph handed Bernhard the bat. “Go hit something,” he said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

  It wasn’t a drink, but maybe Joseph was onto something. Bernhard took a practice swing and whipped the bat through the air; as he snapped his wrists a burning sensation shot up his forearm. He grimaced. There was always some annoyance. Tucking the bat under his armpit, he spat into his palms and rubbed them together, then walked to the plate.

  Old Gutenberg was pitching. He threw a fastball inside; Bernhard swung and missed. The pain flashed through Bernhard’s wrist and forearm and was gone just as fast. There was something in the pain that he liked. He took another swing between pitches just to feel it once more. The next pitch came and he tipped it foul. The feeling was there. It was good, almost like a drink, but not quite. Gutenberg wound up and the third pitch whizzed toward him. Bernhard swung and hit the ball deep into left field. He ran to first and caught sight of Harrison speeding past third base toward home. The ball was still in the outfield. Bernhard turned for second, making it without contest. He stopped there. Breathless. He looked back to the team and waved to Katherine. She waved back. Then Harrison approached her. Katherine said something that Bernhard couldn’t quite make out; the two of them smiled. Harrison said something back to her and it seemed as though they were laughing. Bernhard could feel his anger burn.

  “I have an old ox that moves faster than you,” Jakob Feist said. “He’s better looking too.”

  Bernhard shook his head. He couldn’t get away from this Feist family. He’d never meant to hurt Jakob all those years ago, but he couldn’t fault the kid for growing up bitter. “Is that why you’re still not married?” Bernhard returned.

  Jakob kicked the dirt in the direction of third base and looked off toward the mishmash of folks sitting in the grass, where Harrison was flashing his easy-going smile in the direction of Katherine and Elisabetha. “Well, it looks like your wife has made a new friend.”

  Bernhard clenched his teeth. “I’ll shut you up.”

  “I’d like to see you try,” Jakob said. “I ain’t some eleven-year-old boy.”

  The men stepped toward each other, pulled by invisible strings. Bernhard raised his fists, but Jakob struck first sending a hard right that caught Bernhard above the eye.

  Bernhard shook off the punch and an expression of quiet amusement crept onto his face. He snickered. Bernhard could take a punch better than most men. There was something in the pain that eased him. It was as good as a drink, maybe better. He watched the fear creep into Jakob’s eyes. This didn’t surprise him. After all it was his special gift, his secret weapon; there weren’t many men who knew how to fight against laughter. He drove a hard right into the kid’s jaw sending him off balance; he followed with a left to the gut that knocked the air out of Feist and dropped him to the ground. Then they were on him, dragging him off the field toward the third base line.

  He didn’t struggle; he didn’t resist; he let them take him. Words went flying into his ears. They were calling him all sorts of things, but he heard nothing new.

  Nels and Christian met the group at the third baseline like guards meeting an arriving prisoner.

  “We got him,” Christian said.

  Bernhard looked for Katherine. She was holding Elisabetha and Harrison stood behind her. He walked towards them. He had it all worked out. He softened his gaze so his eyes wouldn’t betray the rage he was holding inside him. Then, when he was close enough that he knew no one could stop him, he broke loose from Nels and Christian, darted past Katherine, and tackled Harrison to the ground. Landing square on top of Harrison, Bernhard let loose a flurry of punches but Harrison raised his arms and shielded his face from the blows. Furious, Bernhard tore at Harrison’s raised arms as Nels, Christian, and Joseph pulled him off Harrison and hauled him away towards the parked wagons.

  Bernhard looked back to find Katherine consoling Elisabetha. Tears poured down the little girl’s cheeks as she trembled in her mother’s arms. Katherine stared back at him. Her face tense. Her brow knit and her bottom lip pulled tight. His heart sank. He’d never scared them or shown his anger in front of them like that before. Goddamn Harrison. He’d pay for this.

  “What’s going on?” Christian demanded. After they’d steered him far from the crowd.

  “You shouldn’t have stopped me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Bernhard looked around to check who had followed them. He didn’t want any gossiping ears, or Katherine, for that matter, listening in. “That
Harrison fellow, he’s been following Katherine around all day long.” He turned to Nels. “You can’t expect me to sit around and not do something about it.”

  Nels looked to Joseph and Christian, but they only shook their heads. Nels shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Jakob Feist did.”

  “He’s just trying to rile you,” Christian said.

  Bernhard huffed. This wasn’t about the Feists. “What would you do?” The men were quiet. “Come on. You’re all married.”

  Joseph looked back to the thinning crowd gathered around Harrison. “He’s not one of us.”

  “I don’t think that matters.” Nels’s brow knit tight. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t hit a man if he was trying to disgrace my wife. Still, I wouldn’t be doing it in front of the town, no less Agatha and the children.”

  Bernhard nodded in agreement. Nels was right. Bernhard had often regretted not keeping a cooler head, but he could never seem to remind himself when the time came.

  “What you have to do is talk to him.” Joseph checked over his shoulder to see if anyone was close behind him. “Scare him. And bring others with you so he understands you’re not alone –”

  “And do it where no one’s watching,” Nels added.

  “Let’s do that,” Bernhard agreed.

  Christian folded his arms. “You’re forgetting he’s the grain buyer.”

  “There’s more than one in this town,” Bernhard replied. “And he needs us probably more than we need him.”

  Nels scratched his moustache. “I don’t know about that.”

  “I need your help. If it’s me alone with him – God forgive me for what I might do.”

  Christian kicked at the ground. “Don’t be stupid.”

  Joseph looked to Nels. “He can’t be alone.”

  Nels sighed. “Fine, I’ll go with you, but don’t you try to hit him.”

  “I won’t touch him. He already knows what I can do with my fists. I’ll just tell him what he can expect if he talks to her again.”

  “I don’t like this,” Christian said. “But I’ll come.”

  Joseph agreed.

  “Good. We’ll do it today,” Bernhard said. “Right after the moving-picture show and before the fireworks start.”

  “It’ll have to be quick,” Joseph said. “I’m in charge of the fireworks.”

  “Oh, we all know that,” Nels teased.

  “It’ll only take a couple minutes,” Bernhard replied. “Nels, if you can get him around the back side of the church, we’ll have our words, and it’s done.”

  Christian looked over Bernhard’s shoulder. “Katherine’s coming this way.”

  Bernhard turned. There she was. “Before the fireworks.”

  The men nodded.

  Joseph fixed the belt around his waist. “I gotta get back to the farm and do my afternoon chores. I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Me too,” Christian said; and, the two of them walked off towards their wagons.

  Nels and Bernhard watched Katherine approach. “She can’t know,” Nels said, under his breath.

  Bernhard nodded.

  “Nels, will you let us speak alone,” Katherine said.

  “Of course.” He feigned a smile. “How about I take Little Elisabetha with me and let you two talk?” The little girl was standing next to Katherine, hiding in the folds of her mother’s long dress.

  “She can stay with us,” Bernhard said.

  Nels looked to his sister.

  “It’s fine.”

  Nels tipped his hat and headed back to the picnic.

  “Why did you do that?”

  Bernhard thought to ask her the same question but stopped. He was scared there might be a truth that lie underneath her answer. One he couldn’t bear to know.

  “Tell me.”

  “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Bernhard said.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them. “You can’t do that. Not here. Not anywhere.”

  “Your brother just told me the same thing.”

  “We should go home,” she said. Her body trembled in the warm July sun.

  “And miss the moving pictures? No, it’s too important for Frank and Elisabetha.” He didn’t want to be the reason the children missed something that the entire community had come out to see. “Everything will be fine. Go and help the other women with supper and I’ll come find you when I get back.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “It’s time I go back and do the chores.”

  “Do you think I want to be here now, after what you’ve done?”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “You’ll miss supper.”

  “Then save me some.”

  She shook her head. No.

  Katherine had never been so cold toward him, but then they’d never had a day like this before. He picked up Elisabetha and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I think she needs a nap.” He handed their child to his wife.

  “I know,” Katherine said.

  He watched them walk back to the picnic. He was happy to be leaving now. There were too many people; too many people that didn’t like him. Better to get away and think, and maybe even have a drink at the house. He should’ve brought something with him.

  He headed toward the wagon. The sun was still high. It wouldn’t take much longer than three hours. He’d be back in time for the moving-picture show. Already there were a dozen fewer wagons than an hour ago. Everyone had the same idea. Gripping the lip of the wagon box with one hand, Bernhard sank down on his haunches to check the rear wagon wheel. He thought he’d seen a broken spoke. The next thing he heard was the sound of bone cracking behind his ears and echoing through his skull. Everything else was a buzz. There was no more sound. Only buzzing. He was aware his knees were no longer supporting him and then everything went dark.

  III

  She had noticed him in church – he was on the other side of the room, a row ahead of her – and he was the only thing she could think of. It was awful wasn’t it, not only to have these covetous thoughts in church but also while standing next to one’s own husband and children. Of course, she made every effort not to stare or draw attention to herself; a slight shift of the eyes was all that was needed to admire him. Yes, he was attractive – he was tall and young-looking with perfect teeth and a pleasant smile – but there was something more to him, a sort of confidence that didn’t match the other men in Kaidenberg. It seemed silly. She barely knew him and perhaps that was it – she was making stories to fill the spaces between what was known and unknown about Mr. Harrison.

  She had to get out of the church without speaking to him. That much she knew. She’d follow Bernhard out and get lost in the crowd, then maybe she’d find one of the older women to chat with and they’d go on and on about something and everything would be fine. That’d work for the time. Maybe later in the afternoon it would be fine if they said hello, just once, casually, at some point when not much was happening or too much was happening for anyone else to notice. It’d be no particular moment, a moment just like any other, except for her it’d be the most important of the day.

  Before she knew it, the choir was singing their closing hymn and the priest had returned to his sacristy. There seemed to be a race for the door as folks from both sides of the aisle piled in, shoulder to shoulder. Bernhard and Elisabetha were already thick in the pack more than a dozen feet ahead of her, and while they slowly advanced she seemed to be stuck where she was. None of this would have bothered her much, if she hadn’t to worry about Mr. Harrison catching up with her as she walked out of the church. Oh, how the rumour mill would churn! She reached for her son’s hand but Frankie pulled away from her and zigzagged through the stream of people. She moved with the rest of the crowd, smiling and saying hello to the people next to her
as she went. Bernhard and Elisabetha were out of sight, beyond the tall boys and men that shuffled in front of her.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Holtz.”

  She recognized the voice and shuddered. Although she wished she could ignore it, something compelled her to look over her shoulder. His smile radiated a life of optimism and laughter. “Good morning, Mr. Harrison,” she replied and proceeded to step into Mr. Gutenberg’s eldest son, bumping her chin on his shoulder. “Pardon me.”

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Holtz?” said Harrison.

  “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, blushing. She quickened her pace, trying to put a step between her and Mr. Harrison as they approached the church doors.

  “Will you be around for the photograph?” he asked.

  “Only if I can hide in the church,” she joked, as she stepped into the sunshine.

  He smiled. “Well, that would be a sad thing for all of us.”

  “That’s kind of you to say.” She returned his smile, then hurried down the church steps and disappeared into the crowd. She plucked a handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress and squeezed it in her palms. It was a mean thing, the way he made her feel: she wanted to run to him and from him in the same breath. Before she could do either, her sister-in-law, Agatha, grabbed her by the arm.

  “Come with me,” said Agatha. “We need help getting the food out. People have to eat. People always have to eat.”

  -

  She felt as though she were trapped in a dream that wasn’t quite a nightmare and certainly wasn’t a fantasy either. It was Mr. Harrison’s doing. She had barely escaped him after church – had found some reprieve while she helped the other women with the meal service – but, now here he was playing ball with Bernhard and the other men. She wished he’d go somewhere else and leave her in peace, or was that only a lie she told herself in hope that she might come to believe it. In truth, she liked watching him, just not with Bernhard around. He’d been flooding her thoughts and dreams with sinful cravings for weeks now. She hadn’t felt stirred like this in years; truly, she doubted whether she’d felt anything quite like this before. She wondered if it was possible that she might be in love with Mr. Harrison. He certainly wasn’t like Bernhard and, while Harrison was handsome like her late husband, Frank, he didn’t seem to have Frank’s conceit or aggressiveness, which made her think it was possible. The only thing she could be certain of was that the way her body ruled her thoughts when she thought of him was surely sinful.