by Rita Hestand
Jim and his folks were not educated, but Jim knew a lot about farming and their farm had been thriving this year.
She looked at the dog, her barefoot rubbing his tummy as he turned over. "Looks like I'm left to do the work myself, Moby. Think I can do it?"
Moby whined and sat up. "Yeah, me neither. But it's got to get done, or I won't have a roof over my head, and neither will you."
Moby seemed to pick up on her sad refrain.
"Well, I'll just have to get some good sleep and try to work on it tomorrow." She told him.
Moby yawned and she went over to her bed and laid on it. The tears came now. She hadn't been feeling too good lately, but maybe if she got some good sleep, she'd be better tomorrow, she reasoned.
Chapter Two
The day before yesterday had been a nightmare, she reflected. He'd gone off, telling her he had to mend the fences and wouldn't be back until late. She asked if he needed help, but she wasn't much help with such chores, and he shook his head. "I can do it. You wouldn't be any help with that."
When it got late, and he didn't come back, she went looking for him on their mule.
The horror of finding him laying there against the fence, blood all over him, his skin nearly peeled to the bone, she went into shock. How was she supposed to get him home? She bent down to see if he was breathing, he wasn't. She tapped him on the cheek, and nothing. She called his name, held him up against her for a moment. But his arms were limp and there was no life there. His eyes were closed now, and she quickly realized he was dead. Shock set in. Pure panic made her nearly scream in terror. She tried to lift him and got blood all over herself. She swallowed hard and kept trying to throw him up on the Mule's back. She couldn't get him up there, so she had to drag him to the house with a rope tied around him in back of the Mule. She left him propped against the porch as she untied the rope.
Then she'd rode toward the town of Tooley. She'd stumbled in the yard of one of her neighbors about sixteen miles up the road, bloodied and crying she drug herself to the door and knocked.
The woman came out and was shocked, "What in the world?" she cried out seeing the blood all over Kate's dress.
"Husband died…" Kate mumbled.
"Died! Well, come in, come in." The woman helped her inside and saw the blood all over her dress. Shaking her head she told her to sit in one of the kitchen chairs.
"My word, what in the world happened?" The woman asked as she got Kate a cup of coffee and Kate sat at the small kitchen table. "Your clothes are all bloody, what happened?"
"I found him out by the fence, from the marks on him, I'd say it was a Cougar. He had many long lesions on his body. He was so bloody, and I guess I am too now!" She looked down at her dress for the first time and nearly screeched.
The woman grabbed her chest. "Oh dear God!" Then she called her husband inside from the barn and they sat down to hear her story.
"Sam, Mrs. Marley's husband just died."
The woman's husband went to get the Reverend and undertaker. When they got back, she and the Reverend, and undertaker rode back home.
Her husband's body was laying half on the porch, half on the ground. "I couldn't lift him." She cried when the Reverend looked at her strangely.
"No ma'am, I reckon you couldn't." the undertaker made sure he was dead, then wrapped him in a long sheet she brought him. He'd brought a cheap casket to put him in.
"What did he die from?" The Reverend asked the undertaker.
"Near as I can tell, a cat got him. Cougar!"
The Reverend nodded.
"We'll bury him tomorrow." The Reverend told her.
"She offered the men her barn to sleep in and got them some blankets and pillows.
The next day, no one came to the funeral. It was coming a gully-washer. It didn't matter, she had to get him buried so she could go to work in the fields. She cooked breakfast for them and then they went out to dig the grave while she cleaned up the dishes.
Even though it was pouring rain, she hadn't wanted to put the burying off another day, she'd have to get the crops in and soon. Of course no one knew about it but that one neighbor and the Reverend. She didn't want to wait until the rain let up. She had a lot of work to do and the sooner she started the better.
"I've gotta get our crop in." she told the Reverend.
"By yourself?" he asked.
"Don't see nobody come to help." She told him.
"Your husband was a might standoffish." The Reverend said softly. "But you being a woman, alone, I'm sure someone would lend a hand."
"Maybe" She hung her head. "And your right, he was."
"But a woman, alone, can't handle this."
"I know that too! Maybe I can find a man to help me."
Everyone left and she went back inside.
When she went to bed, Moby came to lay down on the floor beside her bed, as though watching after her.
The next morning she got up and made coffee. She set the table for her and Jim,
The silence reminded her, although Jim had never been a big talker, just someone moving around in the house would have made her happy.
Tears came into her soft blue eyes, but she forced them away. She made some oatmeal and then fed Moby, then sat down to eat.
The quiet was deafening. The past two days had been a nightmare.
She swallowed her sorrows and got dressed, combed her blonde hair, and went outside to look about.
It was a bright and sunny day. The earth smelled clean after the rain and she stared out at the fields that beckoned her.
She had a field of corn and hay to bring in. How was she going to get it all done? There was no one to help her. Jim hadn't been one to ask for help, and because no one really knew much about her, she wouldn't be asking either.
Stubborn pride kept her from asking anyone.
Now it was up to her. If she didn't get her crops in, she'd lose this place, because it wasn't paid for yet.
With no folks to go back to, she had nowhere to go.
She had no options.
She turned around and went back inside and threw on her old overalls and a shirt with a pair of Jim's boots, she marched out into the corn field. An old wheelbarrow was sitting near the fence, she moved it closer.
Moby came out and chased grasshoppers around the yard for a bit, then came out to where she was pulling corn. He settled himself so he could watch her.
She worked for a long time, until the sweat trickled down her shirt, and her boots got to rubbing her feet.
It was hard work, but she had to do this, somehow.
She felt a bit nauseous, but she forced herself to work.
She had filled the wheel barrel three times before noon and finally went inside to eat once more.
As she came back out, she glanced at Jim's grave, just past the barn a ways. A tear fell but she forced the others away and swallowed hard. She wasn't crying for Jim she realized, she was crying for herself, because her future was so bleak right now. Was she selfish, it would seem so?
"I don't have the time to mourn him Moby." She said as Moby stared at her. "All I can think about is not losing this place. It's all I have."
Once more she went to collect the corn. She filled the wheel barrel up seven times that day and emptied each load into the back of her wagon. By the end of the day she had the floor of the wagon nearly full. She was proud of herself. She'd work some tomorrow and then drive into town and see if she could sell it.
She looked at Moby, "Old man Dickens, on the other side of Tooley might buy it. He's got lots of pigs."
Moby whined.
She pet him a while, just the touch of his soft fur was a comfort to her, and his big, sad, eyes seemed to reflect her own feelings. Later, she fixed herself some supper and went to bed. She was so tired she had no trouble going to sleep.
The next day after filling the wagon floor completely, she put Moby up on the seat with her, then she drove into Tooley. She went to Mr. Avery's place at the edge of town and
knocked on his door. Jim had done business with him last year, maybe she could too.
Mrs. Avery came to the door, "Oh, it's you, Kate, sorry to hear about your husband. Come on in."
"How did you hear?" Kate asked, surprised the news had gotten around so quickly.
"Mrs. Tate, I saw her in the General Store, and she was telling about it. I'm so sorry. It's not good news to have a big cat out there. He's liable to be a real nuisance."
Mrs. Avery was friendly, and they had a cup of coffee together. Funny, Kate mused, when Jim was alive no one had much to do with her. She told Moby to lay down on the porch while she went inside.
"I thought your husband might want some of my corn, I've got a wagon load of it."
Mrs. Avery shook her head, eyeing her with interest. "That's too bad, he just bought some from the Pickens place. He didn't think you'd be able to get yours picked."
Kate looked stunned. "Oh, oh yes, well, I just did. I've got a lot to pick."
"Might be Dickens pig farm could use it, he's always interested in corn." She told her.
"Thanks, well, I better be on my way, the coffee was very good."
"Sorry hon, glad you got it picked though. You gonna be staying on?"
"As long as I can, yes ma'am."
"You know we all knew Jim wasn't much for hiring anyone, but you, you'll need to hire you somebody to help you. Your husband was too stubborn to hire someone. But it's the only way to get things done in time."
"Yeah, know anyone looking for work?" Kate asked.
"Not off hand, but if I do, I'll send them out to you."
"Thanks. Thanks for the coffee too, it was great."
Kate took Moby off the porch and they got back in the wagon and drove out to Mr. Dicken's pig farm.
Funny, she rarely talked to anyone when Jim was alive, but she had no problem talking without Jim by her side. She never realized how much he controlled her.
Mr. Dickens saw her coming and shaded his eyes. As she got closer, he smiled a toothless grin. He was nearly bald headed with a few sprigs of gray on his head. "Well, it's young Kate. What you doin' out here, girl?"
"I'm hopin' to sell you some corn, Mr. Dickens."
"Sell me some corn, huh? Well, how much you got?"
"A wagon full." She smiled at him. "Well, nearly anyway."
He offered her some water when he saw her sweating.
"I could use it, alright. But I figured Jim would be out this way, not you."
"Jim died, Mr. Dickens."
"Died!" the old man seemed shocked. He'd been sitting on the back legs of his chair and suddenly let it down to lean forward. "What happened?"
"Yeah, a Cougar got hold of him, and he bled to death before I could get him back to the house."
"A Cougar did you say?"
"Yeah. He was out on the fence line, doing repairs. When it got late and he didn't come in, I went to look for him. Had a time getting him back to the house. But I managed it."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Then who picked all that corn?"
"Me." She said simply.
He seemed to study on that. "I hate to hear about Jim."
She nodded and bowed her head for a minute. "He was too young to die. But God doesn’t take you before your time." Kate assured him.
"That's a fact, that's a fact girl." Old man Dickens seemed to think on it. "Well, I'll take all the corn you can bring me girl, if that will help you."
"Yes, it will, thanks." Kate smiled.
Old Man Dickens had a hired hand and he called him out of the barn to unload the wagon for her.
Bubba Jenkins had worked for him for years and although he was a bit slow, he was a good worker. He was a tall thin young man with nice thick brown hair and beady eyes.
"Wish I had a hand to help me." Kate murmured.
"Why don't you hire you one."
"Well, if you hear of anyone needing work, would you send him out to my place?" Kate asked him." I got a field of corn and some hay needs tending to."
"I sure will gal, I sure will." He smiled at her. "You gonna stay around a while?"
"As long as I can, yes."
"Glad to hear it."
They talked a bit, then she was on her way once more. Moby climbed back on the wagon and they headed back.
But the amount she made from Dickens wouldn't pay the mortgage on her farm. She knew that. That evening she went to the coffee can and checked to see how much cash she had.
Five dollars and ten cents. With the twenty Dickens gave her, it seemed like a lot, but still wasn't enough to take care of the mortgage.
She put the twenty in the can and put it up.
She looked at Moby, "It's not enough, not near enough." She cried.
Moby whined and laid down, shooting her a sad glance.
Chapter Three
The next day she was out at the corn field. It was a beautiful day and the air smelled clean and fresh. She began picking the corn as usual and worked at it for several hours. Just as she got ready to go inside and fix something to eat, she stumbled across a man in her field, eating a sandwich. He was dressed like a cowboy, and he was sitting on the ground, eating.
She had brought Jim's rifle out and put it on the wheel barrel and turned it on her intruder.
The man barely moved, but his head shot up and she was shocked that such a handsome man was sitting there in her field eating. It caught her off guard, for it was like instant attraction. Taken aback that she even noticed such a thing, she aimed the rifle at him now, and he didn't flinch.
He was young and looked healthy, so what was he doing sitting there in her field.
"Who are you and what are you doing on my property?" she asked holding the rifle at him and frowning. She was doing her best to intimidate him, but he barely reacted.
"You Kate Marley?" He asked, giving her a sideways glance as he finished his sandwich.
"I am, who are you?"
"The name is Wesley Dolan."
"That doesn't tell me much, where did you come from?"
"Old man Dickens sent me out." He stared at her, seeing how the gun was shaking. "Said you were needing some help."
She looked a bit taken aback.
"Oh, he did?" she swallowed hard and let the rifle dangle from her arm. "Are you looking for work?" She relaxed her stance.
"Yeah, I am."
"You from around here?" she asked.
"Nope, I'm a drifter. I stop off and work when I need to."
"A drifter, huh?"
"That's right," he stood up now, and she noted that he was tall and slender, and not as old as she first thought.
He had brown hair, and light brown eyes. He was kind of handsome too.
"I couldn't pay you until you get the crops in." she told him, waiting to see what he thought of that.
"That's fine with me, as long as you can cook for me and give me a place to sleep."
"You can sleep in the barn, there's a bed, toward the back, got an old stove pipe out there too, for cold nights, and I'll fix your meals for you. They won't be fancy but I'm a good cook." She told him.
He seemed to study her a minute. "Sounds good. Where's your husband?"
"He died a couple of days ago." She said flatly.
"Sorry to hear it. Who's been picking your corn for you?"
"Me. And I'll work alongside you too."
Now he really looked at her. "You will, huh?"
He smiled and she noted how white his teeth looked. He was a clean man, from what she could tell. He didn’t reek either. But that smile curled around her as though he'd put his arms around her.
That was silly. Why was he effecting her this way?
"I gotta get these two crops in, or I won't be able to keep this place." She quickly distracted him.
"Bring that wagon over here closer," he told her.
"Are you going to work now?" she asked.
"Sounds like you need somebody to work for you." He said quietly.
"Well, good, thanks. I'll go grab a
bite to eat and be with you shortly. I got lemonade in the house" She informed him. "I'll bring you some when I come out."
He nodded but said nothing.
The man seemed to study her for a long while, but he got busy and by the time she came out, he had half the wagon filled with corn. She stared at how fast he had picked it. Dear God, he was fast. How did he do it?
"You work fast," she told him.
"Yes ma'am." He answered.
"How long can you stay?" she asked as she began to pick the corn too.
"How long you need me?"
She looked at him for a moment. "As long as you can stay," she answered softly.
"I don't usually stay longer than a season then move on." He told her, his voice low and firm.
"Oh."
He obviously heard the disappointment in her voice, as he turned to look at her. Something in his glance attracted her again, and she cleared her throat and moved away from him.
She hung her head and started picking the corn faster.
They didn't talk much after that, but along about sundown she showed him where he could bunk, and she went inside to fix them a meal. "You can clean up a bit and come on in to eat in about an hour." She told him.
He nodded.
A bit later, he came inside and took his hat off and hung it on the peg by the door.
"Where you from Mr. Dolan?" she asked as she poured him some coffee and went to tend the pork chops that Mr. Dickens had given her the day before. He'd always given her pork chops and or bacon when she brought a load of corn.
"I move around a lot, but my home I guess you would say is San Antonio."
"I hear tell that's a pretty place," she smiled.
"It's getting bigger every day, and it is right pretty with the river right there inside the town."
"You married, got kids or anything?" she asked.
"Nope, not a one, and no woman either." He remarked, his glance penetrating her thoughts.
"You got family?" she asked sitting down with him at the table.
"No ma'am, guess that's why I'm a drifter." He smiled.
His smile lit his face and the room. She hadn't expected that.
