The Farm Hand

Chapter 11

On the Mend

There had been a shower in Des Moines and I could smell the rain in the air. The sun was shining at the farm when I left and the only clouds were devoid of rain. My new responsibility had me looking at the skies for news. If we could only get the corn in before the autumn rains mired us down we might be okay. There was already too much to worry about and now the rain was too close for comfort.

I walked the quiet corridors until I was pointed to where my mother was waiting for news. She sat on what looked like a church pew clutching a bible. I spoke before she realized I was there.

"How is he?" I asked.

"The harvest? You should be tending the farm," Mama said, her attention all mine.

"It's fine. We loaded all day yesterday. Sven brought up three hands. The old guy can cook. Makes some good cornbread."

"Rain?"

"None, Mama. I didn't hit it until just before I got to town.”

“Thank heavens. You know how bad rain is this time of year. It was only a quick shower here but you never know about the weather.”

“How is he?" I asked again.

"Robert, I want you to bring me two of my house dresses, the lavender and the green. I'll be staying over at Mrs. Wilkerson's. She's from our church and moved here five years ago, after they were cleared off their place. It's going to be a while. Your father is bad hurt, son."

"He'll be okay, Mama. They'll fix him up. He'll be his old self in a couple of months. You’ll see."

"Robert, your father might lose his leg. They're operating again. He has internal bleeding, broken ribs, and one of his lungs was hurt."

"He'll be fine, Mama. Pa's tough. You can't keep him down for long. He’s never been down long."

"Your Pa'll live. We can thank the Lord for that. If they take the leg he won't be no good on a farm. If he keeps the leg, he'll be crippled up. It's up to you now, Robert. I'm depending on you. Your Pa is depending on you."

"Don't worry, Mama. I'm getting the job done."

"Your father took the farm from his father, when he couldn't keep up no longer. Ralph's too immature. You know that. Junior’s too young. I know this isn't what you wanted. I hoped you could find happiness somehow, son, but we’re depending on you now.”

“I know, Mama. I won’t let you down.”

“Maybe Ralph can take over once he quits chasing after the girls. He can’t hardly keep his mind on his business sometimes, always running off to Lord knows where. "

"Don't worry about me. Don't worry about the farm. We're doing fine. We've brought in a good chunk of the main field. We’re getting a good price. If the rains hold off for another week, we'll have it beat. We'll be okay, Mama. Don’t you worry none about us. Both Ralph and Junior are doing their part.”

“You shouldn’t be here. The corn will only wait for so long.”

“I want to see him, Mama. I want to let him know I’m bringing in the harvest for him. I want to let him know it'll be okay. I want him to know I won’t let him down."

"Robert, don't mistake his displeasure with you as lack of trust. There is a natural order to your father's world. Your father doesn't take to change or sons who go against his will. It scares him, Robert. He wants things to be the way they were, sons taking their rightful place on the farm where they belong. The oldest always takes the father's place when it's time. It was true of your father and his father before him. It’s your time now, Robert. Like it or not."

"We don't need to talk about this right now, Mama."

"I'll tell him you were here. I'll tell him that the corn's being tended. I'll be at the Wilkerson's over on South Maple. There's a sign in front with their name on it. If I'm not here I'll be over there. I'll be taking a job to help pay the hospital bills. Won't be enough after harvest to pay for all this care. We’re up against it for sure."

"I can tell you that ain't going to set well with Pa," I mistakenly argued.

"It's not up to your Pa or you. He's got nothing to say about it and you've got a harvest to get done. You bring me my two housedresses like I asked, my flat shoes, and my Sunday go-to-meetin' hat. I can't think of anything else right now but you can't be spending your time here. So, give the boys a hug for me. Tell them… tell them… we'll be fine is what you tell them. You'll be fine, Robert," she said, patting my hand as she spoke. "The Lord does things in his own time and he's made it clear it's your time now."

I had no answer to that. It was like she hadn't heard anything I said. She was reciting something she'd rehearsed in her mind. I wasn't able to reach her in the place where she had gone to deal with my father's accident. I regretted being unable to reassure Pa about my ability to do the job. He had a bigger fight on his hands and my job had taken on new dimensions.

“Don't let Mr. Crosby talk you into hiring his men. He'll want half the crop. These bills! We won't be able to pay the hospital once we catch up on the mortgage. We can't be promising no money to anyone else. Sven will be fine. Keep him on. Pa knows him and he's a good boy. Just don't be making no promises we can't keep, Robert. Sorensons don't be going back on their word."

"Yes, ma'am. You let me take care of it, Mama. I'll get in the corn and it won't cost us no more ‘an we can afford. It's going to be okay. You take care of Pa, you hear?"

We hugged and she kissed my cheek. My exit was anything but graceful. After ten minutes with my mother, I couldn't breath. It was difficult to understand what had changed in such a short period of time but it had and it didn't make things any easier on me. I wasn't certain my mother hadn't told me that I was doomed to spend the rest of my days on the farm. That was the thought that stuck with me on the way back home. I was going to get the harvest done and turn it over to Ralph as quick as I could.

Usually the ride to somewhere takes twice as long as the ride back, but not this time. It took forever to get to the road that led to the farm. I worried about everything that could go wrong, while sticking my head out of the window to measure the weather. I could smell the rich Iowa soil and the sweet corn growing out of it and I wished the harvest was already finished. I prayed we could get it done without any major difficulties.

The sky remained bright as the day neared its end. When I got back home, Jacob was hanging fence wire on the posts I'd set with Sven earlier in the week. Kaleb was painting the fence posts at the front of the house, where the wire had already been hung. As I pulled in he waved without smiling and went back to his painting as I drove up the driveway. It was a big improvement, but the corn was waiting and there was eight months to hang fence and paint posts.

I sat facing the field and I watched as the two columbines and the International all lumbered toward me at different speeds. Everyone was working and Jacob and Kaleb weren't essential at this point in the day. There were times that every hand was needed in the field, but not now. I gave up worrying about who put Jacob and Kaleb to work on the fence.

Two trucks rode beside the columbines, half filled. A third truck waited at the gate for his turn and there was another one heading toward the farm as I turned down our lane. Ralph drove the International as Junior followed on foot, tossing corn into the bin. Sven and Jake kept the columbines moving. It was getting done and in another week to ten days, we'd all be on after-harvest cleanup.

I checked the sky for the hundredth time since leaving the hospital. It was benign and showing no signs of betraying me. I climbed the back porch steps, thinking they could use a coat of paint, and I stepped into the kitchen, hoping for something quick so I could get back to work.

After a cup of hot coffee I was ready to go and I sent Jake back to the kitchen to rustle up supper. The truck driver gave us a long hard look once the machine was stopped and the old black man came out of the cab. I wrote it off to his desire to keep moving because he was paid by the load, but his hard stare had nothing to do with loading his truck. The driver’s eyes followed Jake as he walked toward the house.

The trucks left as dark set in and Kaleb and Jacob went back to picking up the loose ears of corn. We didn’t wait for Jake to come fetch us; we went in for supper once the International became useless in the night, leaving the corn on the ground until first light.

Sven and I went straight to the pump to wash our hands and face before going in for dinner. Once I got to the kitchen, I found Jake bent over the sink wearing one of Mama’s colorful aprons. He was finishing his cleanup, after preparing the evening meal.

"Bean soup on the stove there. Used up that there hambone. Bowls are on the table. A passel of ham sandwiches in the icebox waiting for you. I’ll pull something out of the smokehouse come morning. Not much time for cookin’ with spending the afternoon in the field.”

“You’re a magician, Jake,” I said, lifting the lid on the bubbling bean soup.

“Smells good, Jake,” Sven said. “You certainly look special in that apron.”

“I’m going to get me my whipping spoon. It ain’t only good for taters, you know.”

“Only kidding, Jake,” Sven corrected.

“Hope your mama don't mind me wearin’ this here apron. I never cooks nothin' I don't wears first. These old eyes ain’t what they once was."

"You certainly do wonders without much to work with, Jake," I said. "I'm starved and that soup smells like just the thing."

"Yes, sir. Thinking your mama ought not to come back to that barren driveway. She'll like it that we got it fenced and slapped a bit a paint on them posts. Boys weren't doing nothin' important and I put ’em on it, while the trucks was running. Hope your Papa’s a healin’ up okay."

"Doesn't sound good, Jake," I said. “It’s going to take time.”

"You gots good help. Trust in the Lord and he'll deliver you."

"And the corn, I hope," I said.

“That’s why we’re here, boss, but I wouldn’t turn down a little help from the Lord,” Sven said.

"The Lord he shall provide, Mr. Robert. Don’t you worry none about that."

"...And Jacob's doing a better job on the fence than I was doing. I'm glad for the help there. My mind is in the corn."

"He done his share a fencin'. Them boys done a passel a work in their short lives. Good boys. Kaleb’s a bit head strong," Jake spoke as he worked without regard for his audience.

The table was lively with conversation and you couldn’t tell we’d only known each other for a few days. I suppose work does that. No quicker way to learn something about someone than to work with them night and day.

“Jacob’s going to sleep up top with us tonight,” Ralph announced.

“What about Sven?” I asked.

“Robert, there’s plenty of room up there. He can move down where you are.”

“That’s fine,” Sven said. “I’m quite big enough to find a spot of my own.”

“You can say that again,” Ralph said. “You’re big enough to sleep any damn place you like.”

“Ralph!” I said.

“What? All I said is he’s big,” Ralph said.

“You best be stayin’ where youse belong, Jacob. Won’t do to be a gettin’ too familiar with your boss.”

“Jake,” I said in an authoritative voice. “We got this here comfortable couch in our parlor. It’s not as comfortable as a bed, but we’ve slept visitors on it before. I’ve been thinking you’d be closer to the kitchen if you slept inside.”

“What would your mama say about the likes of me being put up in her parlor? Mr. Robert, you going to get us both in trouble.”

“She’d say wasting a good couch isn’t wise. Besides, the next week or so we’ll be getting started early every morning. You’ll be able to get things pulled together that much faster if you’re already in the house,” I explained.

“Makes sense,” Jake said, playing along with me. “Might be some warmer inside.”

“Pa’s fixed himself a rig in the bathroom where he can wash without getting in the tub. It’ll provide some privacy for you, Jake. Us boys do fine washing up behind the barn.”

“You be spoilin’ all your help, Mr. Robert?” Jake asked.

“No, sir, just the help that keeps me fed, Jake.” I said.

“The rest of this crew can sleep in the barn,” Sven said. “It’s right fine as barns go,” Sven said.

“I don’t care where you sleep at night as long as you put in a full days work,” I said.

“I’ll probably crowd you a little tonight. Those boys for sure will want to run their mouths. It’ll be quieter down where you sleep,” Sven said.

“Suit yourself. It’s a big barn. I think I can make room for you,” I said, as Sven smiled.

“My boys are used to getting to work straight away,” Jake said.

“Maybe they’ll help get my brothers up. Both of them hate to get up in the morning,” I said.

“Says you,” Ralph said.

“Says me,” Sven said. “You don’t pop right up in the morning, I’ll hold you upsidedown out that window you sleep next to. I don’t aim to waste a lot of time telling you to roll out.”

“I’ll be up. Jacob’ll get me up. Won’t you, Jacob/” Ralph said.

Chapter 12

Up To Our Ears In Corn

The machines coughed and the cows mooed their too-early morning call, as the rooster crowed a curious unconvincing squawk and then repeated it. He sounded as if he, also, had been abruptly awakened by the noises of the pending day's work. I blinked my eyes to clear them of the fog, but the world was still pitch black.

My instincts told me I could roll over and go back to sleep. After all, Pa would take care of the morning rituals, and there was something to be said for those first unclear moments, after not enough sleep and an earlier than usual start to a new day.

I lingered in my half-awakened state for another minute or two before dressing. Ralph and Jacob were curled up under the same blanket that they had pulled over to the open window in the loft. The noise hadn't phased them. I wasn't ready to rouse them from their peaceful sleep. It would be good to get a cup of coffee in the presence of only adults.

"Morning, Robert," Sven said from the dark as my feet hit the ground.

"Why didn't you get me up? I could have helped get the machines ready."

"No point in two of us getting up to do something one of us can do," Sven observed.

"I'm supposed to be running things and I was lecturing my brothers about not getting up on time at supper last night."

"And you delegate where you can or you'll wear yourself down before we get the work done. I don't mind. I enjoy the quiet, boss. Coffee is ready."

Sven's big hand fell on my shoulder again as we walked past the idling machines unable to talk loud enough to be heard. His was a comforting presence and while I was the boss, he kept me on an even keel.

We sat across from each other and Jake delivered cups to us and quickly came back with the pot from the burner, filling them with the steaming black brew.

"Morning, Jake," I said, dumping two spoons full of sugar into it as I stirred.

"You ain't a gonna put no hard candy in there, is yeah?"

We all chuckled and Jake brought biscuits and butter to the table, snatching the sugar bowl out of my reach.

“How’d you sleep, Jake?” I inquired.

“Just fine.”

"These will be the long days," I said. "Trucks will be here at first light and they should keep coming until dark."

"We'll see to it those corncribs are filled, after the trucks stop running. There's a lot of room in the bottom of the barn," Sven suggested. “We can use the window, put a chute there and back the corn wagon up there.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I agreed.

"You boys eat up these eggs," Jake said, filling each of our plates with scrambled eggs and crisp bacon.

He sat next to the sink drinking his coffee and eating eggs. The only noise came from the machinery, but it didn't take long for the children to get into the act.

Ralph and Jacob shoved each other, while trying to get through the door at the same time and the inevitable argument erupted. They tried again with no better result.

“I was here first,” Jacob said, bouncing one shoulder off the door jam and the other off of Ralph.

“Shit, too, you’ll be last one to your own funeral. You ain’t never been no where first,” Ralph complained, bumping his shoulder against Jacob’s determined to get in the kitchen ahead of him.

It was apparent to everyone if one of them hesitated an instant, they’d both clear the door fine, but neither boy would yield, until Jake charged at them wielding the huge wooden spoon menacingly. In an instant the physics of the situation was solved and the two boys scattered into the room and away from Jake's threatening spoon.

“I was there first,” Ralph advised Jacob.

“Were not.”

“Boy, I’s a gonna be washin’ your mouth out with soap, when you gets done today," Jake said, waving the spoon under Ralph's nose.

"It wasn't me. It was him. I got there first."

"Your mama may not be here but I ain’t a havin’ that talk from the likes of you, boy. You come in here and sit down like a gentleman and keep hushed, now, and don't be back sassin’ me.”

"Yes, sir," Ralph answered meekly, scooting his chair closer to Sven's, until Jake withdrew the spoon back across the table.

After getting their cups full of coffee, they sat quiet in their chairs waiting for Jake's delivery of food. It was about the only thing that calmed these two down.

"You want I should wake Junior and Kaleb," Sven offered, after pushing his plate away.

"No, let them rest. They'll have plenty to do once the trucks are done for the day. These two can burn off some of that energy cleaning up the cut corn after breakfast," I said.

"I's can drive if need be," Jake said. “Once I get the roast in the oven I’ll only need an hour to do taters. Maybe I’ll slice up some tomatoes and cucumbers and onions out of your mama’s garden.”

"Good, we'll need all the help we can get. You speed them trucks up when they come. We’re paying enough so that they don’t need to be dallying around. They took their good old time yesterday getting to town and back."

"Yes, sir," Jake said. “I’ll direct ‘em to the gate as quick as they turn into the drive.”

"Make up a pile of sandwiches so we can keep working over lunch today. We'll just eat enough to keep us going until suppertime, when the International isn’t any good to us."

As first light came Ralph and Jacob dashed out into the field with Ralph mounting the International and Jacob running along behind tossing corn into the corn wagon. Sven and I were soon easing the columbines back into the corn. For the first time I needed a jacket to keep me warm until the sun came up.

Once the wagon was full, I began looking for the trucks. It was past time for them to be up under the columbines. As I came back from my run to the end of the main field, I saw Ralph and Jacob breaking away, heading for the gate to empty the wagon.

There were no trucks in sight and the sun was rising higher in the sky. They’re absence was creating twice the work, because everything we cut would have to be picked up by hand. My disposition soured even more the later it got without Crosby’s trucks on the job.

Sven waved his arms as he drove toward my machine. I wasn't sure what was on his mind, but he had my attention. When he stopped his machine and leaped to the ground, I stopped to watch as he ran toward the house.

At the same time I caught sight of Ralph and Jacob running toward the house. I didn’t know what was going on, but I got off the machine and ran through the gate to see a bottleneck at the head of the driveway. In front of the bottleneck was Mr. Crosby’s car. I had no idea what would be of such importance to stop our work.

Jake was dusting himself off after picking himself up just beside where Sven had forced himself in-between Kaleb and Mr. Crosby. What the hell was he doing out here? He never left the feed and grain during harvest. I ran the rest of the way, moving between all my help to face Crosby and his truck drivers, who all seemed agitated.

"We're waiting for those trucks," I said, pointing to the three trucks lined up behind Mr. Crosby's 36 Chrysler.

“What in the world is going on,” I asked, standing between our line and their line. “We’re waiting for those trucks. The suns been up an hour.”

Mr. Crosby moved around the right side of his car and away from where Jake, Sven, and Kaleb were standing. Sven looked a bit like a referee, holding Kaleb’s shoulders in a way that kept him from moving forward. Crosby came up to me with fire in his eyes.

"That damn boy ought not be telling no white man what to do," Crosby said, spitting his words and a plug of tobacco from his mouth as he pointed accusingly at Jake.

I looked toward Jake who I hardly recognized because he’d pulled himself up straight. He stood almost as tall as Sven. They were towering compared to the five foot nothing Crosby whose girth more than made up for his lack of height.

“What did you do, Jake?” I asked, looking at a man with a seething anger in his eyes.

Jake met my eyes with his saying, “I done what youse told me, Mr. Robert,” and the look on his face sent a chill running through me.

I’d never seen Jake look imposing without that wooden spoon, but gone were the bent bones as he stared at Crosby. I could see a gathering pride in his demeanor but I didn't know what brought all this on. Crosby took that time to explain.

“You better get these niggers off here afore I’m a talkin’ to your paw on it,”

In an instant Crosby was leaning back across the hood of his car with Sven's thick forearm forced up under his pudgy little chin. Two of the three truckers took a single step forward before reconsidering going any further.

"Get off me you big ox,” Crosby complained.

"Let him up, Sven," I ordered, still not sure where we were heading. "My father's not able to run the farm right now. I am. These are my hands and I'd appreciate you showing them some respect, Mr. Crosby," I tried in spite of my instincts that told me that I wasn't going to get very far trying to be nice.

Sven glanced over his shoulder at me and the look on his face told me the gentle man I knew had a limit to his patience. My brain was frantic in its search for a way to disarm the situation so we could get the trucks moving. Crosby wasn’t about to allow his objection to my hands go without being addressed.

Sven slowly eased his elbow out from under Crosby's red chin. The difference in their size was remarkable.

“You sure you want me to let him loose, boss?”

“Let him up. I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding. We’re adults and we can work it out. These are my hands, Mr. Crosby. My hands are on my farm.”

"Yes, sir, If you say so," Sven said, backing off a step before folding his arms across his chest. "I don't wants to hurt them other two boys, but I wouldn't mind hurtin' this here one. He looks like he could use a little hurtin’."

"Nobody needs to get hurt, Sven," I said, sensing my right hand man was running interference for me. "Those trucks need to be under my machines, Mr. Crosby. Coming out here to interfere with my operation is slowing down our harvest. I think we have a contract saying sun up to sun down until I say otherwise. It’s close to two hours after sunup and them trucks aren’t under my machines."

Crosby’s eyes stayed on Sven. Two of his drivers stood at either corner of the first truck, but neither made another move toward Sven to aid their boss. My mind raced for leverage. I'd never had to deal with ignorance before and I found it distasteful, but I needed his trucks and at the same time I needed to keep the trust of my men.

"I aims to talk to your paw, after I leave here. He's going to be mighty interested in the goings on up here. Mighty interested. I didn't believe it when my men told me you had a nigger driving a columbine up in here."

Jacob and Kaleb moved to their father's side, when the word nigger came up the second time. Crosby noticed they had closed in on him and then he remembered Sven was a bigger worry and the front of his car now blocked any idea of a rapid retreat.

"I'm in charge, not my Pa. You upset my father, Mr. Crosby, and you aren't going to like what I do," I said, losing track of my purpose.

"Yeah, right, boy. I’m standing here shaking. Can't you see? Just because you say you're in charge, it don't impress me none. My deal's with your paw."

"You want I should be impressing him some, boss. Please, let me have him," Sven said, faking a move toward Crosby while having a menacing sound in his voice.

Crosby rolled out of Sven's reach, putting his arms in front of his face. He moved in-between the two truckers who moved up beside Crosby’s car. The third truck driver sat behind the wheel, disinterested in the standoff.

"Nah, he's all mouth. He doesn't want any trouble. Do you, Mr. Crosby?" I asked, as Sven backed up to stand at my side.

“I’m not sitting still for this. I’m not a man you can threaten. I’ll turn them trucks around and then, where will you be?”

Ralph moved up to my other side and Junior stood beside him. My mind continued searching for a way to break the stalemate.

“You’ve already broken your contract with Pa. If you get those trucks rolling and get out of our way, I’ll honor what you and Pa agreed to,” I said, remembering Pa’s conversation with Mama the day he and Crosby shook on their deal.

Pa thought Crosby needed us more than we needed him. How could I use that information to my advantage?

“Who was the other fellow you know has trucks he wants to rent us, Sven?” I asked, trying to get to Crosby anyway I could.

Sven gave me an odd look, like he didn’t know what the hell I was talking about, but his agile mind came quickly to my aid.

“Awl, boss, You know I ain’t no good with names. He's near Des Moines. He’s got five trucks he was trying to rent. I can take you to him,” Sven said, picking up on where I was going. "Fifty cents per truck per day less than you're paying this man. Says farms are going under and he can't keep his trucks busy. I might could talk him down another fifty cent. He was beaten the bushes for a way to rent ‘em. You said your Pa already made a deal for trucks."

“What man?” Crosby said, alarmed by the idea of it. “I got a contract for all your corn. That corn is mine."

"Contract calls for sun up to sunset. Sven, is the sun up?”

“Yes, sir, boss. Suns been up more an hour.”

“Sun’s been up going on two hours and here your trucks sit, Mr. Crosby. Since you don’t seem willing to honor your end of the contract, I’d say I’m within my rights to find someone who is willing to supply me trucks. How do you think that'll set with Pa?"

"Your father knows about these things. I can work with him. He won’t go back on his word. I know your Pa."

"How do I know you won't pull this shit tomorrow and the day after? You're holding me up, Crosby. Either get out of the way so your trucks can load corn or take them back where you came from.”

“Robert!” Ralph blurted.

“I might lose half a day looking up that other fellow, but he wants my business, not to get in my business. My Pa might feel some loyalty to you, but I don't and I’m running things now. I'll go where a man gives me the best deal and keeps his word. To me that makes good sense.”

"You got no choice, kid. Lose a day and them rains is a comin' that much closer. That'll about wipe your daddy out. You want to take that chance?" Crosby said, kicking the dirt with the tip of his shoe.

"You see, I don't need to deal with the likes of you, Crosby," I said disrespectfully. “I don’t trust a man who goes back on his word to a man whose hurt.”

“You can’t do that. Your paw contracted with me. He contracts with me every year. I've got the paper on it. You can't take up with someone else. That corn is mine,” he said, sounding a bit flustered by my stand.

“I tell my paw you came out here causing us trouble, while we're trying to bring in his crop. Shit, you know good and well what Pa'll say about it. He won't waste any time straightening your ass out. The only reason I don’t let Sven have you is my Pa will be pissed there ain’t nothing left of you for him to throttle."

"I'll get the pickup truck, boss. We best get over there while it's early," Sven said. "He can be out here before lunchtime if we don’t need to do much bargaining."

"You can't do that. You can't break our contract. You'd do that over a pack a niggers," Crosby spat as Sven stepped out a giant step toward the stubborn man.

“Keep that moron away from me,” Crosby said. "We got a contract and you better honor it or else."

I looked up into the sky toward the sun.

"Yes, we had a contract, but the sun says you broke it and now, you’re wasting my time. I think if you apologize to Jake here and get those trucks busy, well…. Did he hit you Jake?"

"No, sir, boss. He pushed me some. I lost my balance is all. I seed he was a lookin' for trouble right off. Weren’t no way to avoid it."

"You ain't seen no trouble yet, nigger," Crosby spat at Jake.

Sven had Crosby's shirt balled up in his hand before I knew it and the truck drivers started to move closer, expecting a fight to start. Ralph, Jacob, and Kaleb moved into the gap that had opened between them and their boss, and they lost interest. Three against one seemed fair to them, but four against three made the odds a bit longer, even though the boys were no match for two big men. It was easy to see Sven would dispatch Crosby in about ten seconds, and then he’d turn his attention toward them.

"Sven," I said firmly, and he stepped back to where I stood.

“Awe boss, we aren’t going to use his trucks. Let me hit him. Just one ought to do it.”

"He was wantin' to get out in the field to bother you, boss. I asked him polite like not to do that. I remembered you saying to let them trucks out there right off. He parked in front of the trucks and all I done was ask him to move," Jake said.

"That nigger stood in my way," Crosby objected.

This time Ralph went for Crosby but Sven caught him around the waist and yanked him back into neutral territory.

"Calm down, champ. He ain't worth it. Besides if there’s any stomping to do, I aims to be doin’ it."

"That man's a better man than you'll ever be," Ralph said, pointing at Jake as his red face announced his rage.

It was strange seeing my brother stand up for something or someone else. I wasn’t prone toward violence, but I was proud of Ralph for caring about Jake.

"Ralph, youse don't needs to be fightin' my fights," Jake said, still showing no sign of the bend that came with him to our farm.

The pain of defying his years was starting to show on his face, but he refused to bend to the likes of Crosby.

"You're done, Crosby," I said, spitting on his shoe for good measure. “I’ve done all I can to reach some compromise, but you keep insisting you’re going to run my farm. That isn’t happening. You broke the contract with paw. You and your trucks can go now.”

Crosby turned amber and waved his arms wildly, screaming, "Get 'em out ah here. Let that god damn corn rot in the field. Back up! Back up," he screamed like a man possessed. "You ain't heard the last of this. I'll be talkin' to your paw, boy. This ain’t gonna set well with him."

"You bother Pa and you'll wish you hadn't," I said bluntly. “I can’t be responsible for what Sven might do,” I said, patting Sven’s bicep.

A minute later the last truck was going back out our lane as we stood blocking the empty driveway.

"Wish you hadn't done that," Sven said. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"I know," I said. "I let him get away with that and he'd be on our backs for the rest of harvest. He’ll be back," I said, remembering Crosby wasn’t in any better position than me and I was betting he needed my corn more than he needed to approve of my hands.

"What harvest?" Junior yelled at me. "What harvest! You just sent the damn trucks away. How do you suppose we're going to get a hundred acres of corn to market without trucks, Robert? Are you out of your mind? I knew you couldn’t do this."

"We’ll see, Junior. Maybe I am crazy. Jake, you got any coffee?" I asked, “You boys take a break and then, I want you picking up the corn and filling those bins. We might need to eat a lot of corn in the end.”

"Yes, sir. All youse can drink, boss, but I hopes you ain't doin' this on my account."

"No, Jake," I said, climbing the steps and going into the kitchen. “I’m doing this on my account.”

I waited for Ralph and offered him my hand. He looked at it as if it might be loaded before he shook it, looking into my face to see what it was all about.

“Proud to have you for a brother, brother.”

“Yeah, likewise,” he said, smiling broadly. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, brother.”

Jake poured coffee into my cup as I sat wondering what to do next. Sven came in and stood next to Jake, who sat in his chair next to the sink with his coffee. All eyes were on me.

"You sure told him," Sven said. "You get right mean when you get your dander up."

"Yeah, I do. He's useless. He came up here looking to push me around. And you, ‘I ain't no good with names, boss.’ You sounded like some lummox from the sticks. You had him convinced you were a quart short of a gallon."

"Yeah, It took me a minute to know where you were going, but he's the only man I know with trucks, boss, and that's a fact. What's going on inside that head of yours? What aren’t you telling us?"

"I'm thinking he isn't going to come up here and cause trouble, because he doesn't like my choice of hands. I'm thinking he doesn't get to do that. I'm thinking we'll wait awhile and see what blows our way. We'll find what we need."

"Yeah, but what about the trucks?" Ralph said. “Robert, times a wasting. We need the money for that corn in case you forgot.”

"He'll be back," I said boldly, hoping I hadn't over played my hand. “He’ll be back.”

"Sometimes it be smart to bend in the wind," Jake said. “The good Lord he do provide, but he gots limits.”

"I didn't see you doing much bending," I said, looking at the way Jake sat. "Besides, you said the Lord would provide and I trust you, Jake. I’m proud of all of you if anyone’s interested."

"Some things I don't bend to. Some men you best not bend in front of. Good Lord has his hands full. You creatin’ more ain't a makin' his job no easier."

"I believe that. Hows about you rustling us up some pancakes. I'm starved. We can relax. No point in cutting any more right now. You want to go out and shut down the machines, Sven. No sense in wasting fuel. We got a few hours I figure."

"Yes, sir, boss. I wish I knew what you were up to. A couple days ago you were a green kid we could talk to. Now, I ain't sure what you is," Jake said, reaching for an apron. "Corn fritters do. I done brought in some fresh corn. You know, it’s just a layin’ around out there in your field."

"If we've got to spend the morning eating, corn fritters sounds good to me," Sven said. "I’ll get to those machines first.”

"You be awful sure I got me enough corn for dem fritters," Jake remarked.

"We just might have us more corn than we know what to do with," Sven said, eyeballing me suspiciously as he went outside.

"Corn fritters and a doss of humble pie if I've miscalculated," I said.

"Fritters and pie and I'd like to know how you're figuring to get this corn to market. I hope you've got a plan, Robert," Junior said.

"The good Lord he be a lookin' after fools and little children," Jake lamented as he banged the big wooden spoon against the huge bowl as he battered his batter.

"Well, let's hope he's watching after this fool or we'll be up the creek," I said. "I was pretty sure of myself, when I was proving to him he couldn't push me around."

There was no doubt in my mind that I was doing the right thing when I wouldn’t buckle under to Crosby, but sitting there in the kitchen with everyone wondering what I was up to, I wasn’t so sure I shouldn’t have done whatever was necessary to get the trucks rolling.

There wasn’t much talk as we shoveled in our second breakfast of the day. Once I had my fill I leaned back in my chair and looked over my hands.

“You guys need to get back to picking up corn,” I said. “Those trucks will be back in another hour.”

“What trucks?” Junior asked in a yell. “You sent the damn trucks back, Robert. You need to go apologize to Mr. Crosby. Tell him we're sorry and we want them trucks back pronto."

“We don't work for him and he isn't telling us how to do our business," I argued, still wanting to believe I was right. “Crosby isn’t at Feed and Grain. I figure he’s leaving Des Moines about now.”

"He's got a contract," Junior said. "You do know about contracts? What’s he doing in Des Moines."

“The hospital,” I said.

“He’s gone to tell Pa what you done?”

“I don’t figure he’ll get to Pa. Mama will listen to what he has to say.”

“You knew he would go there and you still told him to leave?”

"From where I sit, he voided the contract he had with Pa, when he didn't get the trucks to the field on time," I said with a certainty. "He's dealing with me now. He wouldn't dare mess with Pa's hands and he isn't messin' with mine.

"You let me worry about it," I said and I was starting to worry.

The kitchen emptied again as the boys went back to work. They all knew I was waiting, but for what they weren’t sure. I figured Crosby wend to the hospital and he would end up talking to Mama and not Pa, who she’d protect from the likes of him. I had an idea what she’d tell him and then, I figured he’d be back. I was doing a lot of figuring but I wasn’t sure of any of it.

Two hours after our war with Crosby Feed & Grain's owner, I sent Sven out to start the machines. He stared at me for a minute, shook his head, and followed my orders.

“Turn ‘em on, turn ‘em off, yes, sir, boss.”

I watched the boys empty the corn wagon in our rapidly filling cribs. Ralph pulled the wagon down under my columbine, once Sven got it running. Ralph was waiting for me to come out. I took several walks out to the back porch and watched the activity, waiting to see if I'd overplayed my cards. The later it got the more worried I became. I began to rehearse my apology to Mr. Crosby. The taste it left in my mouth was bitter.

I sat back down and drank more coffee. Every noise I heard brought me to attention. Just as I was becoming convinced I’d made a major mistake, I heard the sound I’d been waiting for.

The sound of gravel crunching under Crosby’s car brought a smile to my face. The car eased up the driveway and turned to stop next to the porch. Crosby was rehearsing what he would say to undo what had been done earlier. His car door shut and Jake turned with an odd look on his face as his eyes came to rest on me. Mr. Crosby tapped firmly on the glass. Jake turned back to the sink saying softly, “Fools and little children.”

"Come on in," I said as the door opened. "Well, Mr. Crosby. How are you this fine day? We got some fresh coffee here if you like and Jake makes the best corn fritters,” I said, buoyed by his return. “You really ought to take a taste. Heavenly."

"I'll match that other fellow’s rate. I'm sorry if I caused you any delay. I’ll keep that extra truck on at no charge.”

“Yeah, I thought I counted a forth truck yesterday. I figured you didn’t want to waste time getting it to market.”

“It's been a hard year on all of us, Robert, and you know I keep my word and always have," he said, sounding deeply repentant as he twisted his hat in his hands, looking down at the green linoleum floor.

"How's my Pa a doin', Mr. Crosby? I won't have time to go over there today. In fact we're running several hours behind on the harvesting."

"Your Mama said he was sleeping and he's some better from the way he was yesterday. She said, I should tell you to work things out as best we can, but you're… you're in charge, now, she said. I told her I wanted to do right by her and your poor badly hurt paw. We've been doing business for nigh on twenty years, your paw and me and his paw with my paw. Wouldn't do to part company at this late date. No, sir, I aims to honor my customers as best I can, and so I said, I need to go put things straight with that boy, I said. Your paw being injured and all. I figured it was the right thing to do, Robert, Mr. Sorenson," he said, looking up only when he said my name.

He crumpled his hat in a tiny ball all the time looking powerfully worried about my answer. Mr. Crosby was having second thoughts about his interference in my business.

"The trucks?" I asked. "I can cancel those other trucks if yours are here first. That's how I see it, Mr. Crosby. You are now a little over four hours late getting them to my field today and that just won’t do. I’ll expect them to be here on time in the morning."

"Yes, sir. They're waiting to come into your driveway as quick as I signal.”

“I suggest you signal.”

“I will, Robert, …Mr. Sorenson.”

Crosby stood at the top of the steps and leaned out, waving the trucks forward. By this time everyone had come to the gate. Once Ralph saw the first truck he ran to move the corn wagon out from under my columbine.

“Before we're finished, you owe this man an sincere apology. I can't deal with a man that takes it upon himself to insult my help and doesn't apologize for the misunderstanding."

"What?" he said alarmed for his dignity as he took a half glance at the very black Jake.

"That ain't necessary, Mr. Robert. I stumbled some and I… might have been a bit short with the man."

"You were following my instructions, Jake, and Mr. Crosby argued with you, because you weren't his kind of hand. I want him to apologize, because that's not the way we do business on my farm, and it never will be, not this year and not next year, Mr. Crosby, and I'm not my father. It's you and me doing business now, and we only go back four hours the way I see it. I've no loyalty to you but I will do business with you if you keep your word."

"Yes, sir," he said and then he lifted his eyes to meet Jake's. "I'm sorry for any misunderstanding. I never meant any harm," Crosby blurted, and he squirted out the backdoor before I could make any more demands on his dignity.

Jake washed the last few dishes from our second breakfast and cast a weary glance in my direction. I picked up my coffee cup and drained it.

"Thanks, Jake," I said, and I turned to open the door.

"Thank you, boss," he said firmly without looking away from the sink. “That was a good thing you done.”

“Nice day for work, Jake. Lots of work to do.”

Mr. Crosby and I did business, until he died of a heart attack six years later. There was never any difficulty and he seemed happy to have my business.

Times were changing in Iowa and I felt the change inside myself. I can’t say I enjoyed the responsibility I’d inherited, but the events of that particular day made me smile more than once over the years. How I got the corn in is still a mystery to me.

When I went out, Ralph had walked up to the gate and stood with his hands on his hips as the first truck passed. He glanced in my direction, wondering how I’d bested Crosby. Junior stood in the field and waved the trucks past. I followed the second truck into the field, jogging back to my columbine as the machines belched and rocked. I threw my jacket over my seat and went back to work.

It was another perfect clear Iowa day and the corn was waiting and the trucks never stopped coming.

Just after seven o'clock, I released Crosby's trucks as the last light disappeared. We cleaned ourselves up some and went in for supper. Jake had been bringing sandwiches and different things to keep us going during the afternoon. We'd made real inroads and the progress was now evident.

The corn was coming in and two more days we'd be harvesting the bottom and if the rains held off, while we were in the lowest portion of the farm, we'd have the biggest part of the harvest done by weeks end with the sloped fields yet to cut.

We were all dragging that night. Right after I slipped into my bedding, I found myself listening to Ralph and Jacob talk, while lying in the open window. They were looking out at the full Harvest Moon and buzzing like old friends. I remembered Sven's reminder about my attitude, and so, I held my tongue and didn't interrupt their youthful chatter. What two so different boys had to say to each other was a mystery to me but the two of them always had their heads together as I recall.

"Hey, boss, you mind if I pull my bedding down here. Those boys talk too, much. They'll go on all night and we'll have to drag them out in the morning."

"Call me, Robert, Sven. My father's the boss."

"Sure, boss. You accounted for yourself quite respectably today, and I'm still trying to put all the pieces together."

"Just doing what needed doing."

"How'd you know he'd come back? How'd you know just when he'd come back? You've been holding out on me, Robert. I'm pretty good at judging people but I never figured you for a tactician."

I knew by the sound in Sven's question that he suspected there was some slight of hand at work. I swore him to secrecy and then explained how I overheard my father telling my mother that Crosby needed us more than we needed him.

"Count me as one of those happy to work for you, Robert. You're a good man, and I've worked for a lot of men who weren't. You impressed everyone today. I think you won your brothers over today. They’ll follow you anywhere after today."

There wasn't much I could say after that. Sven's words were a benefit I hadn't expected. If there was one thing I wanted more than anything else, it was Sven's respect. To me he was the best man I'd ever known and having him on my side was helpful in those hard times. A lot of things had changed in little more than a week and I was in the center of the storm. I couldn't imagine facing it without Sven at my side.

Ralph had a new appreciation for my orders, being use to staying close to the edge himself. Junior thought I was crazy or worse yet, a fool, but he approved of the outcome and I’m not sure his view wasn’t the correct view. I felt better about myself, having made my stand and not regretting it.

Jake and his boys seemed more relaxed and trusting on the latest farm where they worked. I wasn't as certain as my actions might indicate. While having colored hands wasn't unusual in our neck of the woods, having one give orders to a white man was unheard of.

Everyone would hear the story of Croby's last stand, as told by his truck drivers. Crosby would say he let it go because of my Pa. Then, the town would be left to make up its mind if I had crossed some invisible line they thought was there.

No matter the gossip, we went back to work each morning and the trucks were under the columbines at each first light. Once we finished the main fields we headed for the bottoms. We’d had two showers in two days and I cast a weary glance at the sky with every pass I made.

I once again prayed for the rain to hold off for two more days and we’d be done. I’d push my hands to work after dinner tonight and I’d get them up two hours earlier in the morning. We were so close that I wanted to get every ear of corn harvested.

I never thought we’d be able to do it but we were so close now that I began to believe this was going to be the best harvest in years.

Chapter 13

Glad

Because we lost so much time after the Crosby incident, I waited until the following day to journey to the hospital, leaving Jake to take over in my machine. Mama would want to know what was going on and I didn’t think she’d alert Pa, until she knew the whole story. Since I wasn’t prone to feeblemindedness and since she knew about Mr. Crosby, she’d likely be thinking there would be a good reason to explain why I chose to take on Mr. Crosby.

The clouds grew more foreboding as I neared town, and being away from the farm worried me, but everything worried me, so I doubt I could worry any more than I did. All the way to Des Moines I worried that Mama would find my actions of the previous day unacceptable.

“Hi, Mama, I brought your house dresses, the hat, and your flat shoes. How’s Pa?”

“It’s slow, Robert. He’s some better today. You can go in but only for a minute. He needs his rest, but he’d like it if you looked in on him.”

“You didn’t tell him?”

“No, I didn’t know what to say. Mr. Crosby had himself in such a state, it was difficult to understand what you’d done to the poor man.”

“Well, you could say I gave him a dose of his own medicine. Mr. Crosby tried to outfox me, but the fox got outfoxed.”

“Robert, all I got to say is, you’re in charge and I’m not going to argue with what you decide, but a Sorenson gives his word, it’s good as gold.”

“Yes, ma’am, Mr. Crosby and I made an agreement and I will stand by it.”

“Your Pa had a contract with the man. If you’ve failed to honor that, your Pa will look poorly on it.”

“Mr. Crosby’s agreement is with me now, Mama. Pa isn’t involved. I took care of it and I’ll keep my word, good as gold, Mama,” I said, knowing I was skating on thin ice.

“I don’t know the whole story and I won’t interfere. You do what you think is best and we’ll live with it. I know your heart, son, and it’s a good one. We’ll live by your decisions.”

“Thank you, Mama,” I said, kissing her cheek.

“The boys?”

“Fine Mama, they’re working like troopers. Were almost half way done with the top. We’ll be on the bottoms by weeks end. If the rains hold off I think we’ll be okay.”

“Not with these hospital bills. I don’t know how soon they insist on being paid. I’m going to help around here in the days, sew for Mrs. Wilkerson in the evenings. This way I’ll be close to your Pa. You better go in now. They just changed his linens. He’s probably still awake.”

My father was hung up like a Christmas goose. One of his legs was up at a forty five degree angle with more wires and gadgets than looked necessary. I pulled off my hat and stood just inside the door looking for signs of life.

“Pa!”

“Robert,” he said in a raspy horse voice. “You aren’t on the harvest?”

“Yeah, Pa. I had to bring Mama some things.”

“Crosby?” he said in a whisper.

“He’s taken care of, Pa. I told him not to come down here but you know Crosby.”

“Robert, what ever you do, don’t let that skinflint get the best of you. He’s a clever one.”

“No, sir,” I said, unable to hold back my urge to laugh as I stepped next to the bed so I could hear his weak voice better. “I surely won’t, Pa. We’ve got another day or two on top. We’ll do the bottom and hope we’re beating the rain. I’ll save the hardest fields for last so we get as much in as quick as we’re able. We’ve had showers but the ground’s so dry they haven’t slowed us a bit. I got the columbines working fifteen hours a day. The International is working twelve. We’re making good time, Pa.”

My father didn’t have anything more to say, but he put his hand on top of mine and patted it. I don’t recall Pa touching me since my last whipping, when I was ten. The distance between us over the past few years had only grown wider. For the first time in years he made me feel like I was his son and not some farmhand that was passing through. He was crippled up and couldn’t get out of his bed, but his first born was taking his rightful place on the farm. The way I felt about it didn’t make me feel very good. I leaned forward to kiss his forehead, never daring to do such a thing when my father was upright and healthy.

Before I knew it I was back in the field, hardly feeling like I’d even left. Jake slowed to a stop and slipped out of the machine and at the same time I climbed into the seat. The drone was too loud for any long distance conversation, but I wasn’t ready to talk about my trip to town just yet.

A few hours later Jake came following the newest cleared swaths to bring us cooled tea and molasses cookies to keep up our energy in the late afternoon on the fifth day of harvest. Sven walked around in front of my machine and leaned his back against one big wheel as he drained the first glass without stopping and waited for Jake to pour more. I eased down out of my seat and walked over to the eats.

"Good stuff, Jake. Thanks," Sven said, wiping his mouth on his forearm as Jake poured his glass back to the top one more time.

"How's your Pa?" Sven asked, being too busy to talk since I'd gotten back.

I looked down into my tea and then off in the distance, having kept my mind off my father while I worked. I guess the expression on my face answered the question before I could speak.

"That's what I was worried about. I knew he didn't look good. I knew that leg was a mess. I figured he wasn't ever going to be a whole farmer again."

"He will be," I snapped. "They don't know what they're talking about. He'll be fine. My old man is tough as leather. He's strong. He'll show them," I was almost yelling to make sure I was heard. Later on I thought I must have sounded like some wide eyed kid full of more wish than fact.

"Supper in an hour. I'll hang the lantern on the gate, when it be done."

Sven finished drinking his tea and Jake walked away heading for where the four boys had gathered. They were pitching the loose ears into the corn wagon. Yelling and screaming as they surrounded the wagon, they threw more on each other than made it over the wire that kept the corn inside in spite of the size of the target. While watching them, I wondered if I ever had that much energy. I wondered if I'd ever been as happy as they seemed to be.

Sven was gone when I stopped wondering. In another minute his machine was ambling out ahead of mine. I emptied my glass and tossed it back in on the floor and went back to work.

We went in to dinner as the last light was leaving the sky. We had the trucks for twelve hours the next day and every day until we finished, and I saw no point in creating work we had to do by hand, when the trucks weren't coming and going, since the boys were clearing cut corn as fast as it hit the ground now.

The Crosby delay had been more than made up by having the extra truck. Rarely did one need to wait at the gate for a truck to clear one of the columbines. They were spaced in such a way that little corn was hitting the ground.

Sven came out as I stood on the back porch, watching the night set in. My bones ached, my back hurt, and my mind wouldn’t stay out of the corn.

"I'm sorry I was the one to tell you," he said. "I know how you feel. None of this is easy but you're doing a fine job."

"Tell me what?" I snapped at him, sensing we were going there again.

"Your father isn't… he won't be doing any farming. He'll be fine giving orders and supervising you boys. Lots of farmers supervise and don't do the work."

"That would about kill Pa. He's got to be on the land, working it, making the corn grow. They could be wrong, you know. You could be wrong."

"You want me to agree with you to make you feel better, or do you want me to speak honest? You'll need to face the truth sooner or later. You need to be ready. The farm is your responsibility here on out."

"I don't want to hear it," I said to the fields. “I know the truth, but it’s easier to hold out for the life I want. It’s no crime, Sven.”

“No, sir. It’s no crime. We can all hope for the best.”

"I know. I know. It's just not an easy transition to make. In my mind I'm still out there seeing the world. Now, I never will. I’ll be stuck on this damn farm as long as I live."

"You can't run from what is. These are hard times and the only way your parents are going to stay here is if you keep them here. You can't walk away from the life you were born in to, as much as you'd like to do it."

"I know that, too, but I can dream. I might have to tend the farm but I won't give up dreaming."

"I'll stay on and help if you like. I work cheap and I like setting down roots where I'm wanted. I like your folks. I like your brothers."

"You mean you like Ralph."

"I said, I like your brothers, and I especially like you, Robert."

"You do? I don't feel that likeable right now, Sven. You know you're welcome to stay on here as long as you want. Pa'd be dead if you hadn't lifted that tractor off him. There's no way to repay what we owe you. You’ll be welcome here as long as you want to stay."

"I only did what I was built for. I want to stay because you ask me to stay. I want to hear it from you and not because of your father. That was all in a day’s work. This is about you and me."

"I want you to stay as much as I want anything. You make farming seem like something noble. Thanks for helping me do this. I guess I don't seem all that grateful at times. I'm always thinking about myself. Without you, Sven, I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t want to do it. It’s just that my dreams go back a long way and they’ll be hard to forget."

"Dreams die hard, Robert. I understand. Maybe later on times'll be better. You'll be able to turn it over to Ralph and get out there for a time, but it won’t be what you think. This is the only world that’s real to me, hard work, good people, and a future that you make for your self.

“Out there is a lot of people looking to take advantage of naïve farm boys. Out there is disappointment. You don’t know how lucky you are having a place with your family, where you can work and live your life on your own terms."

“Yeah, if the bank doesn’t run us off. Well, I’ve got to go into town to get some fuel. That’ll take an hour or more. Times a wasting.”

“I’ll go with you. It’ll speed things up. I need a few hours away from that machine and Ralph loves driving it.”

“I’d like you to come along.”

“I’ll drive for you, boss.”

“Quit calling me that. You drove all day," I said.

"I can drive all night. It's not a hard job. Like I said, you need to delegate the work. You can’t be on top of everything here, take care of your mother, and worry about your father.”

“It’s what I got,” I said.

“Yeah, let's see if Jake needs anything. We’ll be near the general store when we fuel."

We went back into the kitchen where the smell of rhubarb cobbler filled the room. We both stood sniffing at the air.

"Won't be ready and cooled for hours, so don't youse boys be getting no idears," Jake said, closing the door of the oven, after checking the dessert.

"We're going to gas the truck and get fuel. You need anything from the store."

"Sugar. Coffee. Flour. We could use a passel a beans. Easy cooking beans for when I’m in the field."

"That's a tall order and they ain't going to be offering me no credit, Jake. The whole town knows Pa's in the hospital. They probably know more about his condition than we do," I said. "We've been over our credit limit all summer. I’ll get what I can, but Mama’s change jar is about bust."

Jake dragged a change purse out of his back pocket and dug his crooked fingers into it. His shaky hand withdrew an old crumpled five dollar bill.

"Knowd I was saving this for some reason or other. This should cover it. Get the boys some hard candies. I'd like a mix if you please. Boys got to have their candy now and again."

I backed up a step as Jake held out his offering.

"Jake, I can't take that. You're working for us. I can't let you pay for our food."

"Tish tosh, boy. The Lord provides. We got a need. I got the means. You best take this and buy what I told you. We all gots to eat. Not much work gettin' done if we don't be eatin' to keep up our strength."

"I feel funny taking your money."

"You take it, son, and be glad I gots it. The Lord will see you through if you let him. You fight him on it and he's libel to tend to someone else's need next time."

"Yes, sir," I said, removing the bill from his hand and stuffing it into my pocket.

Sven put his hand on my back and guided me back out the door. He scooted into the driver's side of the Ford, once he arranged the fuel barrel to suit him and we headed for town.

"How are you doing?" Sven asked as he drove.

"Fine, I guess."

"Yeah, me, too, but how are you really doing?"

"Numb. I really don’t know what I’m doing."

"Yeah, it's not easy when the world comes out from under you. You’re doing fine. I think even your brothers are starting to believe in you."

"He'll be back. Pa won't sit for sitting around."

"You keep going back to that. He won't have much choice, Robert. I'm just saying for you not to get your hopes up."

"What do you know? Why do you say that stuff, when you don't know any more than I do? Let me have my way for a little while longer. Haven't we talked about this? I keep thinking we have. I keep wishing we're done with it."

Sven always waited for my fits of anger to pass and he never held them against me. I guess he figured I wasn't much more than a kid and kids go off and then settle back down if you let them.

"I studied anatomy. I read a few medical books. I've seen things like this on other farms. I wouldn’t say what I said without having some knowledge. I’m not a man given to shooting off his mouth, while having nothing to say."

"You did what? You said you dropped out of school at what, sixteen?"

"I dropped out of school. I didn't shut down my brain. Besides, once the bank took the farm, Mama had me staying over in town at a spinster lady’s house. She was a librarian by profession. She'd let me stay but I had to read books. Books! Books! More books!"

"She had a lot of them, huh?"

"Shelves filled from one end of the house to the other. She was a librarian with her own library. She told me it was her one true love, reading. She loved words and she made me love them… if I knew what was good for me. It was hard at first. I didn't like reading all that much. I missed the farm, my family."

"Tough, huh?"

"No, easiest time of my life. I was sixteen and turned seventeen with her. I learned more in that year than in all my years of schooling. She read to me. We'd sit in her parlor, sipping tea and eating crumpets with exotic jams, and she'd read to me. No one ever made me feel the way she made me feel. She cared. She allowed me to see the world through the pages of books. She told me about her travels, the people she met, the experiences she had."

"How's that?" I asked.

"It's hard to explain. She needed to share the words with someone, and there I was. Then, she got me and the words mixed up together. Life does provide. Those were good days. I never knew life could be that easy. It spoiled me. It make what came afterward harder on me, but I wouldn’t trade a minute."

"You sound fond of her."

"She taught me things I never thought I'd know. Latin! Shakespeare! Homer! I was an empty page before Glad."

"Homer? I know Homer. He works over at the general store, you know. Eats crackers and spits tobacky juice incessantly."

"Homer was a Greek writer."

"They write over there? What will they think of next?"

"Homer lived over two thousand years ago."

"Yeah, I heard of him. The Iliad and The Odyssey, I do believe."

"Very good, Robert. You get an A in literature. You paid attention in school. I never did. I was a farmer and that was good enough for Paw and it was good enough for me."

"That's what never made sense to me. You're smart for a farm boy. How in the hell could a guy not much older an me, who dropped out of school, be so much smarter than me? Experience only accounts for so much. The librarian explains the rest."

"Not all that much smarter and not much older. In this world applied knowledge is more important than learning about great literature. In another time I might be a college professor, but it's this time and I'm a farmhand and nothing more."

"Yeah, you're a lot more. That's how you know what to do for my father? It wasn't blind luck? The tourniquet…, loosen it…, tighten it. You knew how to do it. You knew about his condition and what it meant."

"It was in Gray's Anatomy. He'd have bled to death if his body hadn’t started shutting down. The tourniquet got him to the hospital. I’ve seen injuries like that before.”

"Yeah, you saved his life. We won't soon forget it."

"I did what I knew to do is all."

"What else did you read?"

"Everything. Once I got into my first book at Miss Himple's house. I couldn't sit still to read before that. Then, she sat with me and it was easy, after that. She kept me calmed down.”

"Mrs. Himple?"

"Gladys Himple. She wore glasses and looked rather stern. She wasn't at all stern. She was a kind gentle lady and she taught me about the finer things in life. She acted as if I was the most important thing to her. I guess I was at the time.”

"She lived in a farm town?" I asked.

"She was born there and went off to college."

"The girl I dated left for college last fall. I was supposed to go with her but there was no way I could leave with the farm in trouble. Last year wasn’t a good year."

“Glady's went to Chicago, after school. Something happened to her. I think she may have fallen in love. It didn't work out. She came home a few years later. Funny how things turn out. If not for her misery I'd never of met her. Lots of sixteen year olds out there doing labor, after their daddy's lost their farms. Why Mama wanted me over at Miss Himple's, I don't know, but that’s where she sent me."

"Maybe your Mama knew how smart you were and she wanted you to have a chance to learn something other than the farm."

"Mama thought I was smart all right. Too smart for my own good, she’d say. I got into everything. I was a handful, when I was a boy. That seems so long ago. Miss Himple settled me down and added discipline to my life."

"What happened to Miss Himple."

"Either I had to go or she did."

"Why? Sounds like she might have helped you to become something special."

"I am something special in case you haven’t noticed. I'm a farmer's son and a damn good farmer myself. I knew what I was. All the books in the world can't change that. Besides, it got complicated. Then, it stopped being fun once the talk started."

"Reading?"

"A sixteen year old boy. A lonely middle aged woman. Books that speak of love and all that can mean. A natural recipe for gossip in a small town."

"You and Miss Himple?"

We hit a silent spot for the first time. I was finally learning something about the mysterious stranger in our midst. I can't conceive of him not being there and yet, this was the first time we'd talked about his past. It warmed me talking to him about his life for a change. He'd done a lot of living in his few years and the pieces finally fit.

"I've never done anything," I said. "I've been my father's son all my life. I did as I was told. I never got in trouble and I worked hard. The day Pa found out I intended to leave the farm, he shut me out. I was no better than any hand that did farm work to him."

"Life has a way of complicating itself if you give it enough space and time. Add stimulation to a teenage boy's already fertile imagination…. We decided that my living with her wasn't all that smart an idea."

"She wanted you to leave?"

"No, I could have stayed, but the trouble it would have caused her would have eventually forced her to move out of town. Besides, she started to smoother me. I was becoming a man. She literally helped me to become a man. She was twice my age and the old biddies in that town would have torn her to pieces if they got wind of what we were up to. No, I had to go for her sake. Poor Gladys was not lucky in love. Just like who ever it was that broke her heart the first time, I came along to do it to her all over again. Not intentionally but that was the end result."

"You have lived. My brother is the closest I've come to being a man and I was on the wrong end of that deal. He's got more girls around the county than you can count."

"Ralph?"

"Yeah, Ralph can get… rude."

"Oh, that's what it's called these days. He's curious is all. He'd have fit right in at my house."

"I don’t think so? Ralph don’t even fit in at our house."

"You mentioned a girlfriend?"

"She was a nice girl or I was a nice boy. I don't know which. It wasn't on my mind, kids, a family. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to get out there, where things are happening. I should have gone when I had the chance, after high school. I should have gone out our lane and never looked back."

"What I saw happening out there isn't worth seeing, Robert. Even freedom can get complicated and it has a cost. You have much to be grateful for right here."

"Yeah, I wish I saw it that way. I lie awake at night thinking about travel. I've only left the county a couple of times. I never even got to know a librarian. How old was she anyway?"

"I don't know, thirties, maybe forty. I never asked. She was way older than me. If I'd asked her she might have realized just how young I was and I wasn't taking the chance. You might say I have an appetite in that area and Miss Himple kept me well fed. Being without for long periods isn't good for a man like me. You think about travel and I think about love and making love and being in love."

"Wives, daughters, and sometimes farmer's sons," as I recall.

“Sounds like something I might say to a farmer's son who stares a bit longer than is customary. What did you find so interesting about me that first day?"

"I can't say," I said, returning to the vision of him walking up my driveway and how arrogantly he’d treated me on the first day.

“Can’t or won’t.”

I pondered my first reaction to Sven.

"There was something about you. Everything about you I guess. You were big, strong, powerful looking, a real man, and yet, you moved gracefully. You were gentle with your words; gentle but crude like you’d expect from a farmhand. I was fascinated by all of it, all the things you were and I wasn't. I’m hardly a man. I wasn’t much of a boy. I’ve never done anything of note."

"You never showed it after starting out looking like an interested farmer's son to me. I thought we were on our way to being friends. You were interested and then you became obnoxious. I'd much rather have had you stay the way you were when we met."

"That's a joke, right? The farmer's son part? I mean I got no trouble with the wives and daughters, as long as it ain't my father's wife."

"It's not all the same thing, Robert. Some times it's about being with someone you feel comfortable being with. Close friends that allow for getting to know each other so you can say what's on your mind. Sometimes there is love in that. Everyone is different. The trick is, you don't let the differences get between your sameness. There is more than one kind of love if you do it right. I love being in tune with someone."

"Like with Gladys?"

"I've never talked about Glad with anyone before. I don't know why I told you. It was a good time for me. I needed to know something about love. She was a good teacher."

"Glad? I bet she was Glad. I can’t imagine you at sixteen.”

"Too glad. It was all over before I knew it. Sometimes I think it never happened at all, but then I remember Whitman, Cooper, and Poe. That's what she gave me for my love. It was all in the words."

"She was your first?" I asked.

"My first was Amy Lowery. I was eleven and she was thirteen. I guess I had a thing for older women. It didn't amount to much on my part. Amy simply was hankering for a ride and there wasn't anyone else around."

"Eleven?"

"It's not important. She took advantage of my good nature and showed me hers. I lacked the ability to go where she wanted to take me but that didn’t stop me from trying. It only made her more determined."

"I'm nineteen and I've danced with a girl. Not very well might I add. I can't even imagine… I didn't know which end was up…. Eleven?"

"It all comes naturally. The world is full of people because it's easy to make them. I caught on pretty quick but I lacked the skill to which my paramour had become accustomed and my reach never exceeded her grasp. She moved on to greener pastures later that day."

"What might I ask is a paramour?"

"She was going out with my brother Mike. He was an older man for her. She decided to try me out when Mike was working out in the fields. She went back to him that very afternoon and I was left wondering what it was all about.

“That’s until George Palmer came to stay. George was more willing than most to explain what it was all about. Sometimes I think it was all he cared about."

"A farmer's son perhaps?" I said in jest.

"Robert, there are some things you have no need to know. You might be my boss but you aren't my priest. There's no point in going into George Palmer's influence on my life."

"You're Catholic?"

"No," he said before laughing. “I have no desire to confess my sins to priests or anyone else.”

"Why would you say I'm not your priest?" I asked.

"Why would you even ask? It's personal business from long past. I've already told you more than you need to know about me. I don't want you thinking ill of me. My life hasn't been all Emerson and Melville."

"I would never think ill of you. You said you need to be able to be comfortable talking to a friend. I want you to feel like you can tell me anything you want."

That just about summed it up and at the same time we pulled up at the pump behind Crosby’s.

After filling the drum, Sven handed me the coffee and sugar and he held onto the flour and beans as we walked up to the counter. We stood at the register after I handed over the five dollars and Sven started measuring out candy, wanting a quarter left over for gas for the Ford. We got a half dozen different varieties of sweets and Homer added some extra, once we'd calculated the proper amount. He was smiling as we left. I put the packages in the truck as Sven started pumping a quarter's worth as Homer's son sat watching us carefully, until Sven flipped him the quarter. Only then did he release us from his gaze, after biting the quarter his father had just given us in change to make sure it was real.

That's the way it was, when a stranger came to town, even when he was with a local. I thought of Gladys and realized how towns people might look poorly upon her taking in a virile teenage boy.

Chapter 14

The Palmers

I was unable to resist the candy as we headed back to the farm. Offering the open bag to Sven, he reached in for a piece and we both smiled at the varied flavors we found.

“Thanks,” he said, after savoring the piece he picked.

It took a few minutes before we’d satisfied our sweet tooth and I picked up where we left off.

"Thank you for driving."

"Won't be much time for trips the next few days," he said.

"Nope,” I agreed with other things on my mind. “Who's George Palmer?"

"How did I know you would ask that? There are some things guys don't even discuss with friend's they've become comfortable with. To this day I’m not sure who he was. I know what he was and he was more than happy to share it with me and my brothers."

"Well, then, this can be a test of your philosophy. I think I can handle it. Tell me what he was then."

"You do persist. When I was thirteen the Palmers moved in with us. There was Nels, Stan, George, Henry, and Ingrid. She was the only girl."

"Yes, if it was a boy, I'd wonder about his parents. Moved in with you?"

"It was the year the bank took their farm. The parents had no where to go and their kids were mostly young. The Palmers matched up with us in age, except my sisters were all older than Ingrid. Henry was my age. George was Daniel's age, 15, Stan was Mike's age, 16, and Nels was John's age, 18. Ingrid came before Henry and after George. My parents had Stephen that year but he passed during the sickness back about 1919 or 20. I only vaguely remember it. I was little. We lost Alvin that year, too. He was the youngest, coming after Stephen and passing before him by a month or two."

"That's sad. Why did they move in with you?"

"My Mama wouldn't put a stray dog out. She said in the old country, when something happened to a family, it was neighbors who took in the kids. They were never separated. Whoever took them, took them all or none at all. We took them all, thinking the Palmers would get back on their feet after a few months."

"Wow. Your entire family is sainted."

"We had a home. They didn’t. It doesn’t take saints to see what needs doing. Three years later they left when we lost our farm. They were mostly grown, except for Henry and me were still mostly boys."

"No one to take your brothers, huh?"

"No, we were one of the last farms in our area to still be owned by the people who settled it. New people didn’t share our concern for one another."

"Here, too. Only two other farmers and us are left. I'm sorry. You were telling me about George Palmer's influence on your life. He didn't become a priest?"

"No, George definitely wasn't priest material. It started when George and Daniel kept sneaking off. Every time Papa turned around, Daniel was amongst the missing. I didn't get along all that well with George at the time, so I never knew what they were up to. He was a bit of a pest as I recall and he liked hanging around Henry and me. Daniel took to following him like a puppy dog. Daniel was quiet and kept to himself, until George showed up. What he saw in George was beyond me, but it all came out later on. I never thought much of it and Henry never mentioned what was going on, although he said later he knew but wasn’t of a mind to talk about it.

One day Papa caught them trying to mate up in the loft. I think Papa suspected something like that, because he had started asking about where those two took off to every afternoon. He had told John to keep an eye out and one afternoon, after chores were done, he eased up on them in the loft before they could get unhooked."

"Mate? Unhook? Boys can't mate."

"Daniel was playing the bull to George's cow and once introduced, the bull seldom forgets where to find satisfaction. He said Daniel looked like he'd done died and gone to heaven. He was working up a sweat on top of old George who didn’t seem to mind at all."

"Ah! I get the picture now."

"Papa separated 'em as quietly as possible, confiding in John about the details, because he was putting George in John's charge to keep him and Daniel separate at night, which offered them endless opportunity to pick up where they left off."

"He didn't punish them?"

"Well, keeping them separated was considerable punishment of a sort. Papa tended to believe you got the best results by removing temptation and while the initial separation was a success, John found temptation to be insurmountable. Seems John was a bull in his own right."

"You're telling me that John and George were…."

"George was fair haired, fine featured, and smooth as a baby's bottom. John said he beat his hand by a mile."

"And you came by this knowledge how?"

"The same way we all did. Do you want to hear the story or not?"

"George rivaled Ingrid in physical beauty, and it was something a kin to putting the fox in charge of the hen house, only the hen was asking for it. Nels, on the other hand, sharing John's room, had taught fair haired George most of what he knew about bulls and cows some years before. George was more than willing to share his talent as long as Daniel was allowed visits after the lights went out at night."

"With his own brother?"

"Not unheard of on farms. Brothers often sleep in the same bed. Ralph mentioned your previous arrangement before you went to sleep in the barn."

"Ralph has a big mouth. I moved out to the barn on my own."

"He said he angered you and he regretted that you still held it against him. I had asked him what your problem with him was. He wouldn't tell me until that bit of news slipped out and your reaction says you are no stranger to boys playing bulls and cows together."

"I moved out there so it wouldn't come up."

"It comes up with some boys more than others, Robert. It's hard to resist an available source of pleasure for lustful energy, when so few exist.” "

"Well, I wasn't that source," I objected. "He might have seen me as a cow, but I didn't see it that way and so I moved to the loft."

“Well, George merely brought the subject to the attention of my other brothers and then me. I was quite jealous by then once I found out even Henry was taking George up on what he so willing was giving out.”

“I was heading in the other direction,” I said, feeling defensive.

"Ralph didn't go into it, but that's quite interesting. My brothers and I might never have discovered on our own, but even if we never did, that doesn't mean it doesn't exist as an option. It's a complicated subject and one seldom discussed and once discovered you must draw your own conclusions. It’s best not to judge other people too harshly."

"Not so complicated that my Pa wouldn't have introduced an old fashion belt licking if he had known what Ralph was up to or why I moved out of my room."

"That's one way it's handled. Papa figured you accept it and move on, as best you can. It made neither George nor Daniel good or bad boys. It was obvious to Papa that they both took to the activity and that meant you handled it with some caution. Papa wasn't a tantrum type man, unless it created disharmony that hindered the corn from being brought in. By moving George out and putting Daniel in with Henry and me, problem solved, or so it appeared to Papa, but it merely spread our knowledge that much faster. Instead of two boys doing it together you had two boys doing it with the rest of us, except Mike. He never showed much interest, but he had his hands full with Amy."

"John and Nels were both…?"

"George played his cards carefully, seeing to it that John and Nels had no reason to complicate his life, which left him free to spread his wares as he pleased."

"It all sounds complicated to me?"

"Daniel showed Henry what George taught him and in Daniel's absence, Henry was more than happy to share his talent with me. After being embarrassed by Amy, any practice I could get was okay by me."

"So farmers’ sons is no joke? You have lived. How do you decide who to take on once you get to a new farm?" I asked, not certain I wasn't put off by the intriguing boldness in his words.

"Robert, I don't decide. I walk up a driveway. I'm hoping for work to keep myself fed. I hope I find good people with good hearts. Once I'm there, and when someone expresses an interest… well, the road is a lonely place to be. A farm can be almost as lonely, so I don't take on a job without realizing that I'll be around the folks who live there. Someone says something, asks a question, pries into my past, I respond in kind and look for common ground. At times that common ground is a bed or a loft."

"Ralph! He sure moved out into the loft quick enough?"

"Ralph is a fine young man. He treated me like I was welcome. He made me feel welcome. As I said, it isn't always love, but the friendship someone offers. I don't often turn down affection, even if it's only in the form of a hug or a touch. Ralph has a bold curiosity and no shame. It’s a nice combination."

"Ralph is so… so… exasperating," I sighed.

"Ralph is clear on who he is," Sven said. "He doesn't apologize for his curiosity or his passion for life. He allowed me to know him and for that I'm grateful. I like Ralph."

"He's a kid. You're a… a… grown man," I said, unhappy with the idea.

"Ralph is every bit as much of a man as you. He's probably a bit less worried about what people think of him. There are three years between us but time matters little to friends and new farmhands. Years between you aren't nearly as important as the minutes you share."

"What do you see in him?"

"I don't see anything in him. He's on a farm where I work. I treat him the way he treats me. He helps pass the time in a most pleasant way. I won’t lie about it. It beats argument and dissention."

"I've seen him with you. He touches you. I mean he really touches you. I know he isn't going to make a cow out of you. What do you get out of him acting like that?"

"A touch isn't so threatening as the idea of touching or of being touched. Ralph may be infatuated with my build, because he finds it admirable. He wants one like it. So, he touches me. Believe me, he doesn't touch me in the way he touches the girls he courts."

"Ralph has run off more girls than I can count. He talks to them like he's in a pool hall or a bar. He doesn't leave much to the imagination. Why they go for it is one of those mysteries of life."

"He's direct about his interest and doesn't waste their time hinting around. All the girls don't respond, but he has a fair amount of experience for someone his age.”

“He tells you about the girls he's…. I'm not like my brother. I told you I didn't want kids or responsibilities yet."

"When I'm alone out on the road, Robert, I dream of being with people. Having a laugh and getting along, enjoying their company. Affection is beyond expectation. When someone I like offers me affection, I'm unlikely to refuse. I've told you I'm weak, when it comes to the involvements of the heart. There being only two genders from which affection comes, I don't make demands on the source. I'm grateful whenever I find myself appreciated. For those who have all they want or desire, it might seem immoral, but I don't live their lives, I live mine. I don't judge anyone for their peculiarities and I don't expect them to judge me for mine.

“My life was warmth and harmony until I reached sixteen. I figured I’d grow up, marry, have a family of my own, and I’d be quite content in that life. I wasn’t allowed to follow that plan. I found myself out on my own. There was nothing to do but take life as it comes. I no longer have set plans, because I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow, if I’ll eat, go hungry, or be shot crossing someone’s land. I take what comes my way and I’m grateful for the times when I’m on a farm like yours. It’s as close to being home as I’m able to get now. I didn’t decide to wander the countryside and I don’t decide which person might offer me comfort in different degrees. I merely take affection from those who offer it.”

"You are bold. Will I become as bold as you once I leave home?"

"I do my best to embrace life, Robert, and I won't apologize for being honest. I accept the pain life brings me, so, don't expect me to deny the pleasure, when it presents itself. That might be noble but it isn’t any fun."

"I hardly know anything about you. Ralph seems to be the only thing we have in common and we disagree on him. I haven't been around and I've never been exposed to that much living. I admire you. I don’t judge you. I don’t think I could live like that."

"Let’s hope you never need to find out, and Ralph has nothing to do with you and me. I'm your employee, Robert. Not something I’m prone to forget."

"You’re my father's employee. It's only by accident I'm in charge."

"I'm working for you. I take your orders. You run the farm. It’s how things are even if you choose to deny it.”

"I see it as more than that. I know I don't show it at times but I appreciate all you've done. I'd like to be half the man you are."

"You'll find your own way in your own time. If you are open to what life offers you. You'll figure it out as you go along. I can only tell you that I have no plans that go beyond the current harvest. We can sort out the future once the job is done."

"I'll need help if I'm going to succeed, but I want you to stay on as my friend not an employee."

"I told you I'd stay. If I’m not your hand I don’t know what I am."

“You know more about running a farm than I’ll ever know. You’re stronger, have more stamina, and you’re smarter than me. I see you as my equal. I can’t do this without you…. I don’t want to do this without you. I depend on you.”

“It’s been a long time since I put down roots. I loved my family more than I’ve ever loved anything else. Now we’re all spread in the wind. I only know where Maw is for sure. Miss Himple came along. She only wanted to teach me about the world.

“Having a live-in teacher who gave you her undivided attention for four to six hours a day was enlightening. Falling in love was a bonus, because I was lost and lonely. I needed loving. We were split up by tiny little minds of people who know nothing of love. Their purpose in life is to make certain no one else can be in love.

“They couldn’t stand the idea of a strapping young lad living with a spinster lady. I ask you who had the dirty minds, the two people in love or those who yelled insults from the street because of what they suspected might be going on?

“I’ve spent a long time getting over Glad. I went back to her house last year. She’d gone. I’m sure she left to escape the scrutiny of the self righteous. Putting down roots can be painful, when you’re forced to move on without much notice. Takes time to get used to the idea of giving up everything you have and starting over again.”

“I envy the life you’ve had. I don’t know anything. I’ve never been anywhere,” I complained.

“You’ve got a home, Robert. I can’t tell you what that means. You only learn how good it is to have a home, after you lose it. I was careful after Glad. I’d spend a few months on some farms, but I never stayed too long. Along the way I learnt my lesson about staying too long and how much pain you suffer when it’s time to leave.”

Sven was a man of the world. He’d been places and done things. I admired him for it. If I had to be stuck on my famlies farm, I was glad he was with me.

“You’ll always have a place here, Sven,” I said.

“I know,” he said, smiling big.

He did know too. He didn’t sound like he was interested in going anywhere. That suited me just fine.

Chapter 15

Harvest Moon

I'd done little to cultivate Sven’s friendship. In some instances I'd purposely done harm to it. I didn't know why I acted the way I did around him. I always regretted it but never soon enough to keep from acting the fool. As we took the journey back to the house I felt regret for my own immaturity.

"When I first walked up your driveway, I was curious about you. At first I thought you were another hand, my competition. So, I pretended to ignore you," Sven said, putting his hand on mine in a comforting way. "Since that occasion I’ve suspected you were put off by the attention Ralph showed me, but I saw no reason to hurt his feelings. He was an ally in a strange place. Whatever the problem between you two, it had little to do with my presence."

"He makes me angry."

"He doesn't intend to," Sven said. "He's tried to be the best brother to you he can be, but you don't give him an inch. He’s firm in who he is and unrepentant."

"We have a history that's hard to erase. I don't want him thinking that what he did was okay."

"Because of what Ralph did or because of how it made you feel? Are you angry with him or yourself?”

“Just how much did he tell you?”

“He told me it wasn’t the first time. In fact the history went back a ways.”

“I can’t believe he talks about it with strangers.”

“We were hardly strangers, when he confessed to me about the trouble between you. Ralph and I got along from the day after I showed up. There was a certain trust we built up. He wanted to talk about what troubled him most.”

“That makes me even more angry.”

I felt my face flush once I knew Sven knew all about my history with Ralph.

“Instead of saying no, you picked up and scurried off to the barn. Ralph knew he’d done something wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what had changed."

“That’s private. It’s between Ralph and me. He had no right to discuss it with you.”

“Ralph has nothing but love for both of his brothers. Your rejection of him troubles him deeply. He doesn’t understand. He asked my advice and I told him he needed to forget the past and embrace the brothers he has today in spite of your acrimony.”

"I moved to the barn. That's how it made me feel. I’m not comfortable discussing this."

"Yes, we all get that part, but you decided for yourself to stop going along with him. He didn’t know why. You never told him why.”

“What else did he tell you?”

“He told me he doesn’t understand why you turned on him. Ralph thinks in short sentences. You think in complicated paragraphs and he doesn’t understand what he did.”

“When I was boy, I didn’t see any harm in it. Once I was in high school, I picked up with Barbara Sue, and I told him to quit. I’d wake up at night with him mounting me. That’s why I moved. I told him to quit.”

“Ralph was already conditioned to it without any complaint from you. He’s younger than you and immature to boot. He doesn’t know what’s inside your head?"

“It’s not something you talk about. What would I say?”

“I’m dating Barbara Sue and she wouldn’t approve.”

"Yeah, but I didn't and now… well, you see how we act when we’re together. We make each other mad.”

“Both Ralph and Junior have a new appreciation for you. It would be a good time for you to show some appreciation for their loyalty in a tough situation.”

“I know you’re right. I don’t know how to change how I feel.”

"Why do you think I told you about the Palmers?”

"To let me know it happens outside my world?"

"To let you know it happens inside your world," Sven said, leaning over to kiss me on my cheek.

I blushed even more, but I didn’t tell him to stop. I was left feeling warm and confused. I looked at the way the single light in the dashboard lit his face. He seemed pleased with himself. He was smiling and taking glances at me.

I had a million things to say and no words came out. I needed to say something but instead I turned my hand over so that our fingers came face to face. By mutual design they intertwined. He smiled more broadly. I squeezed his hand in place of looking for words.

“There is the lust and the coupling without any purpose than being connected to another human being. At times, that’s all there is, Robert. It’s a warm body to be close to. It gives you a feeling of well being. Then, there’s passionate love, which can involve the same coupling, but intense feelings come before and after the act.”

“My intense feelings told him to quit it,” I said.

“What are they telling you now?” Sven asked, looking away from the road and into my face.

“They’re leaning strongly toward the feelings of well-being. It’s not the same thing as when it was Ralph and me.”

“I hope not,” he said.

“I did tell him to stop. I remember that much.”

“You ever tell a bull to quit while he’s having his way with a cow?”

“No, I’ve got more sense.”

“Just something to think about.”

“I know that. When I see Ralph with you…," I said, unable to identify my feelings to him but having a better understanding of what they were.

“It seems to me you are mad at Ralph for being Ralph.”

"I don't know. You've confused everything. I thought I knew what I felt, until you came along. What I feel… I don't know what I feel. Here I am running a farm and I'm not half the man you are. You know Pa'd have you in charge if he had a say.”

“He’d be wrong.”

“I wanted a few years when I wasn’t fighting to hold on to a piece of dirt, because everyone else in my family has done nothing else. We’ve been paying the bank on that farm since the middle of the last century. We still don’t own it. We might never own it.”

"Life creates unpredictable circumstances. We adjust as best we can. You’re doing fine from where I sit. Worrying ain’t gonna get the corn in.”

“That’s for sure. I didn’t think I could cut it, but there’s something majestic in riding my columbine across the field. It was just seed in the spring, tiny little things. Now, it’s taller than me. How amazing is that in a few months? We do that. Farmers do that. It’s a miracle.”

“We?”

“You know what I mean. Okay, I’m a farmer.”

Sven laughed and squeezed my hand.

I didn’t want to let go. I’d been falling for years, unable to catch myself. He’d caught me and I wanted him to hold me tight.

“Put corn in the ground and get out of the way. It’s going to grow on its own terms. It is a miracle of nature. Heaven help us the day we sow the seed and the ground stays fallow.”

“I wouldn’t have known but for Pa getting hurt. I’ve never thought about it before. It was just a job I had to do. I’ve only been going through the motions. I couldn’t tell you what it makes Pa feel, but I think I have some idea now. I understand him saying we’re married to the land. It’s why we’re here. It’s what we do. It’s not supposed to be easy.”

“As far as I can tell, people are like corn, except forces around them demand you grow the way they tell you to grow.

“I can tell you that approach stops working for people who have followed the rules all their lives, worked hard, and obeyed the laws only to find themselves thrown out with the garbage by the people in charge.

“Those men get rich and we become outsiders on our own land. We don’t so easily listen to their recipe for growing fat and happy, their idea of success. We no longer figure in their plans and we best get out of the way of their prosperity.

“In my case I go from farm to farm trying to stay fed. I don’t look beyond the farm I’m on, until it’s time to leave. There are no rules, no laws, or conduct we can depend on to keep us from starving. We lose contact with our families. We keep moving to avoid being declared vagrant and worthy of a visit to the local jail."

"I planned to leave and couldn’t. You wanted to stay on your farm and couldn’t. Go figure."

“My father worked our farm for nearly thirty years, his father thirty years before him. My great grandfather cleared the land and planted the first corn in our region. After all those years of working, they still couldn’t pay off the note. They tell us we feed America but who’ll feed us now that we’ve lost our farm? We get short changed.”

“I got to tell you, that doesn’t make me feel a lot better,” I said. “It makes me more determined to make sure my family doesn’t end up like that.”

“And people like Jake and his boys and people like me will help, because we’ve been where you are and couldn’t save our farms. That’s why the money isn’t important. Helping a man keep his farm is worth all the pay I’ve ever gotten.”

“There’s no way to repay you, Jake, his boys. It means more than you’ll ever know to sit at a table with people, not your own, who care anyway. It makes me care that much more,” I said with all my sincerity.

“This depression will end. Farmers that make it will do okay. The rest of us will simply get passed by on the road of life. We may or may not catch on somewhere that the farmer needs us to stay.”

“That had to come out of a book you read,” I said.

“Maybe, truth often does,” Sven said, not being as happy as before. “Right and wrong is more difficult. One man’s right is another man’s wrong.”

“It sounds like you’re saying we don’t have much to do with the outcome,” I realized.

"No, that's not what I said, but it’s an accurate comment in many cases. Sometimes we have no choice. In your case you have no choice if you're going to live with yourself. Maybe one day Ralph can do it, but today it’s up to you. Tomorrow it might be different. You're the eldest and therefore even Ralph and Junior expect you to take the lead in place of your father."

“I suppose. They sure didn’t think I had a brain in my head after I cut Crosby’s truck’s loose the other day.”

“You proved your point and they both know you did something they wouldn’t have had the nerve to do. In fact, I don’t think I’d have taken that big a risk in your place.”

“Stupid, me wanting to show that skinflint he couldn’t push me around.”

“Smart! You’ll never have any more difficulty with Crosby.”

“Wait until Pa knows the story. He won’t like it.”

“He don’t have to like it. You did what you saw fit to do. I said I wouldn’t have had the nerve. I didn’t say how much I admired your courage. You’re a farmer now, Robert. You’ve earned the right to call yourself that.”

“Thanks, coming from you that means something to me.”

“The truth often does. I’m happy to be working with you.”

"I'm jealous of Ralph," I blurted in an effort to be honest about what had been eating on me.

"Ralph? Ralph's so natural and easy going."

"That's exactly what makes me jealous. I'm not natural. I agonize over everything. He doesn't care. He just has a good time. I resent him for that."

"Let him. He'll grow up soon enough. Why not let him have fun without you getting mad?"

"If Ralph hadn't taken up with you so fast we might have become friends right off," I said. "I could see us becoming friends. I was jealous when you took up with him. I may not have known it then, but I know it now."

"I took the easy road. You were complicated and distant, not to mention annoying. Ralph was open and friendly. Besides, he hasn't said two words to me since Jacob arrived. He is a curious fun-loving lad and like a bee searching for nectar, he explores anything new."

"He's that way. Anything new he's got to sniff around it right off."

"You make it sound like he's doing something wrong. Ralph is being Ralph. Let him be. Jacob opens another door to him. He's never going to leave here. He'll learn about the world from the people he meets on and around this farm. It's what I like about him. He wants to know what's out there but he doesn't need to go out there."

"He hasn't said two words to you? How does that make you feel?"

"Ralph's not the only person I like talking to, Robert. I said he was infatuated with me. I never said I was infatuated with him. I like Ralph's honesty and openness. It’s refreshing to find for a man on the move. There isn’t enough honesty in the world."

"Meaning I'm not honest?"

"Meaning it has nothing to do with you. Your trouble is you can't feel the comfort coming from the bosom of the land. You don't seem to remember you were nurtured here. This is where you grew strong enough to make the decision to leave. You aren’t trapped. You are free to go."

"You take up for him all the time, you know," I argued, no longer able to keep my eyes off him.

"I wouldn't if you were fair to him. I've lost all my brothers. I don't hold with brothers who don’t see how important it is to have them around. You’ll regret it if you don’t make peace with Ralph. You’re the eldest and it’s up to you to close the distance between you. Ralph will meet you half way. He doesn't try because you don’t give him a chance."

"I like Ralph. I wish I was more like him and less like me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me."

"You’re fine. A bit on the serious side, but I can deal with that."

"Ralph's a born farmer," I said. “I’m not. It should be his farm after Pa. He loves the land like Pa.”

"And Junior's the businessman. Every time Junior goes out to run errands, he brings back a pocket full of change. He showed me the jar where he keeps it. He wants a car."

"He's always been that way. People save their odd jobs for when he comes with jellies and such. He's a hard worker. Stop the truck in front."

“I need to roll this barrel back onto the farm truck.”

“I don’t want to go back yet. I feel like we’re just getting to know each other. I want to talk.”

Sven stopped on the opposite side of the lane in front of our house. I got out and stood, gazing at the glittering Iowa sky. The moon was big as a basketball and just as orange. It seemed as if I could reach out and touch it. The stars cascaded across the sky in a brilliant display of light. I became swept up in the stars. I don’t recall them ever being as brilliant as they were that night.

As I watched the universe light up, Sven wrapped his fingers in mine. I lost track of the sky as quick as that. As beautiful as it was Sven outshined it in my eyes. I’d never felt so enraptured, standing there, feeling his hand in mine, and watching his strong distinctive face as he took it all in.

For the first time I recall feeling as if my life was complete right there where I was. I wanted to be exactly where I was, with him, forever. My feelings for him heated up as a soothing warmth overtook me. I turned to get a better look at him. Without warning his lips touched mine ever so slightly and his arms were around me to keep me from floating up among the twinkling stars.

“Sorry, you looked so precious, I couldn’t resist,” he said.

His forehead rested against mine as I looked up into his eyes and his eyes were in mine. It was like I had only then come to life. His lips brushed mine as he gently rolled his forehead against mine. He sighed and our faces were nose to nose as I tried to catch my breath. I felt his hands in the curve of my back as he held me. Breathing no longer came easy. The natural rhythm of life became secondary to whatever had struck me. His breaths came in short bursts and met mine.

Sven’s fingers intertwined with mine again. I felt the heat from the Ford, but the heat in his kisses generated more, causing me to swoon. We stood like that, watching each other under the light of the harvest moon.

“Don’t… be… sorry,” I said with each word hanging on its own breath.

“Ain’t life grand,” he said.

This time I kissed him and he swept me into his arms. I hugged his body tight against mine. There was no way to deny what I felt for him and I wanted to make sure he knew I was holding nothing back.

Chapter 16

Long Days, Short Nights

It took us some time to get to the house but time wasn’t important any longer. Things would get done in their own time and I had no more interest in saying what the right time might be. After that ride to town, the farm became less formidable and I never worried about my back being against the wall. I felt as if I should do all I could do and accept what came of it. I’d still make my decision based on what was best for Mama and Pa.

I can’t say the idea of seeing the world never crossed my mind again, but it would never have the power over me it once did. This left me with a view of the world that came from newspaper headlines and radio broadcasts that became more and more depressing. For as long as Sven would stay with me, I didn’t need to leave. He’d agreed to stay and running the farm became a labor of love in ways I could never have conceived.

When we finally drove up the driveway, Junior and Kaleb were on the back steps churning ice cream. The columbines sat silent near the gate, and except for the two boys’ laughter and chattering, the evening fell silent, save the frogs, crickets singing, and our crazy rooster, who never seemed to know what time it was.

Ralph and Jacob were playing checkers in the kitchen and Jake was back in the apron, fussing over more food. When he turned his head halfway around, I was fearful he might break it off his long frail looking neck.

"You took your time. We’s gots done in the field and I’m fixin’ cookies for tomorrow. The cobbler’s a coolin’ and it’ll fit right in with the ice cream them boys is churnin’.

“You boys be a movin’ that checker board to the small table or out on the porch. Let the men have some space."

“Aw, Jake, we’re just getting going good,” Ralph protested, looking up at Sven and me as we stood near the door. “You look like the cat what ate the canary, Robert.”

“Maybe, Ralph. You can stay there. Plenty of room for us down the other end of the table.”

“What?” Ralph blurted. “You okay? Take that boy’s temperature. He’s being nice to me. What do you want, Robert. I already done run your columbine half the day.”

“You can roll the drum out of the back of the Ford and onto the back of the farm truck.”

“Let’s go, Jacob,” Ralph said, bumping past us as they dashed outside.

The screen door banged as they raced one another to the truck. We sat at the table once the ice cream was delivered. When Jacob came back in, he sat down after gathering up one of Mama’s tea towels and a big pot. He sat at the table and picked through the hard candies for his favorites, wrapping them in the tea towel.

When Ralph came back in, he watched the operation, sitting across from where Jacob worked with surgical precision. It was then he took to whacking the cloth full of candy against the bottom of the pot as we all watched dismayed.

"What in the world are you up to?" Ralph asked once the racket stopped. "Boy's lost his mind."

"Watch and learn, Ralphie boy," Jacob said with an air of authority in his voice.

"Jacob!" Jake growled in a voice you didn't challenge.

"Sorry, Paw."

Jacob carefully unfolded the cloth and dumped the crushed pieces of candy on the top of his vanilla ice cream. Ralph watched in amazement with his eyes growing large.

"You're going to eat that?" Ralph inquired.

"One day, Ralphie boy, everyone will eat their ice cream with candy on it. You can mark my words."

"Yeah, and their teeth is gonna rot plum out a dere heads," Jake lamented softly to the apples he was pealing for tomorrow night's pie.

"That much sugar would drive a good man to drink," Sven said.

Jacob made sure everyone tasted his concoction, except for Jake, who still had a few teeth he wanted to hold on to. It might grow on you if you ate enough of it, but I didn't see a future for candy on top of ice cream.

It stayed quiet until the ice cream was gone and the boys were licking their bowls and spoons. Jake wrestled the bowls away so he could wash them up before he took to his bed.

"Pa is bad hurt,” I started, expecting resistance. “He might never be able to tend the farm again," I said, figuring it was best to get the truth out there so my brothers wouldn't get their hopes up.

"What?" Ralph objected. "Tend the farm? Pa'll be back. He got a broke leg is all."

While Ralph was raising his objection to my observations, Junior sprang up like a jack in the box, knocking over his chair and giving me his most fierce look of disapproval.

"Take it back. He'll be fine. It's only a broke leg. You take it back, Robert."

"It's mangled. They might need to take it off. It might already be off. A man with one leg can't farm. It's up to us."

"He can too. He'll be fine," Junior yelled as the backdoor slammed and everyone else fell silent.

My brothers weren't ever going to let go of the idea that Pa would be okay. It was difficult for me to accept, but I’d seen him and realized that his condition was far more serious than I imagined. Mama’s words to me weren’t temporary. She’d told me what it meant without talking about Pa’s future.

"He will be able to tend the farm. Don't you say that, Robert. Pa'll be fine," Ralph told me, after considering the source of the information.

"You need to know the truth. It's up to us. If we keep the farm it will be up to us. If we lose it, it'll be on us. Pa's out of it. He can't do it for us. We got to grow up now, Junior. You hear me?" I yelled to make sure Junior heard me as he pouted on the porch.

Jake opened the door to let out some heat and I heard Junior plop down on the top step, but he had no further comments. Ralph glared at me and all the fun had gone out of the evening. He seemed to think it was my doing, but no one doubted my words were true. It wasn’t something you make up to make conversation. It was my life that was altered most, after Pa’s and Mama’s.

I watched Ralph lean on his elbows, wiping the tears as they flooded his eyes once he had considered the meaning in my words for a time. Ralph was happy go lucky and didn’t have a care in the world, doing mostly what he wanted, when he wanted. His tears were real and I’d caught him crying several times, since Pa’s accident.

The harshness I’d been guilty of using on my brother didn’t set well with me any longer. His need to confide in Sven about our past took on a new meaning. I suspected Ralph’s feelings ran a lot deeper than mine. I wondered if his carefree attitude wasn’t a front to protect his real feelings.

Jacob sat silent watching, looking like he wanted to help but didn’t know how. Sven leaned his back against the door jam, watching Junior through the screen, but he didn't go out. Jake cleared his throat several times and I maintained control over my emotions. My tears ran on the inside as the words I said finally closed in on me as well. I wanted to comfort Ralph, put my arms around him, but I couldn’t.

The air seemed to get thin as everyone cleared their throats and coughed. Jake kept his back to us as he peeled more apples. We were going to have a lot of pie.

At times it seemed like Jake didn't hear what was being said even though he was right next to the conversation. Jacob and Kaleb sat silently, squirming in their chairs, waiting for the mood to change.

It was a different house than the one I grew up in. It was filled with strangers that had in a few weeks or a few days become part of my family. I can't describe the interactions, but it was like we'd known each other a long time. Spending fifteen hours a day working together teaches you what a man is made of and whether or not you can trust him. I felt comfortable with these men and it wasn't often I found anyone I was comfortable being with. Hard times bring people together in ways that cement their loyalty and admiration for one another. If I was going to be in charge of my family's farm these were the men I wanted working for me. I already knew I could depend on them. I wanted them to know they could depend on me.

It didn’t take long for the yawning to start and one by one we headed off to get a good night’s sleep. It was going to be another endless day tomorrow and we wouldn’t have a shorter day until the last truck was full and driving away. Only then would we be able to relax.

I woke up several times during the night to be reassured by how Sven held me close to him. I lay awake long enough to smile and feel the comfort of being close to him. In my wildest dreams I never once figured I could feel as good as I felt while I was with him. These were some good days.

I depended on Sven's advice, rarely making a decision before consulting with him. He viewed me differently, after the Crosby affair and his praise seemed more deserved as we discussed each day's progress.

Harvest was never easy and under awkward circumstances, this one stayed routine. Each day we set out to accomplish a full day’s work. At the end of each day, we'd exceeded expectations and were too tired to do anything but smile about a good day’s work.

Even the corn cooperated, offering no resistance to our labor, coming in abundance. The weather held, but I couldn’t garner any credit for that. Two days after facing the facts about Pa, it clouded up and started raining as Jake scurried from machine to machine, keeping us fed. I watched as he kept a weary eye on the sky as he made his way back toward the house. Jake stopped in the wide open gate; using his apron to protect his head, he looked a bit like a shepherd, save the platter he held in his hand from our snack instead of a staff. As my machine lumbered toward him, my windshield was splattered with rain, but not enough to obscure my vision. Both of Jake’s hands shot into the air. He waved them as if to curse the gods who authored the rains.

Apparently we all saw him, looking a bit like a wild man, but at the same instant the clouds started separating and rays of sunlight flooded the field and the rains slowed before stopping. Satisfied, Jake went back into the house.

None of us mentioned Jake’s control of the weather, but it was difficult to look at him the same way again. A half an hour later the skies were blue, the clouds benign. The ground continued to remain firm under our machines.

Jacob and Kaleb could be seen waving their arms at the sky from time to time, having long ago accepted Jake’s influence concerning things beyond their understanding.

Ignoring aching bones and weary bodies, there was plenty of time for resting, once the harvesting was done. I wondered how Pa made it seem so effortless for all those years. I had conceived of him being there to do it for years to come. We were left with all the work and none of his wisdom.

It never appeared that his back was up against the world, holding off the bank and everyone we owed, while making barely enough to keep his family fed, and he never seemed to be overly worried. He took it all in stride.

He worked fifteen hours a day, seven days a week, and he didn't complain about his work never being done, or that the money wasn’t enough. That’s where his love of the land paid off. He loved doing what he did. He didn’t see it as a job. It was a labor of love.

Being in charge gave me a new appreciation for my Pa’s devotion. I started to understand why he was so offended at my refusal to do what he'd done since before he was my age. My comfort and joy came from being with Sven. Passing him in the rows of corn, as we worked, made it easy.

Late at night, when he held me in his arms, it was best. Being that close to him made everything wonderful. Could it have been any different between Pa and Mama. She had always given him the strength he needed to do his endless job as Sven gave me the strength to do mine.

We never saw much money, except in a new pair of shoes every few years, and there were the new coveralls that kept us from going around, "half naked", as Mama called it. The work was vast and the rewards were few, but I felt pride welling up inside me as we fought off all the forces aligned against our success.

We ate well and Mama said we were healthier than God should allow, but then again, we couldn't afford to get ill. Perhaps that was the benefit of the hard work, the clean air, and fresh natural food. We had little time for excess of any kind and as for me, I was way too tired to think about sinning, and that was before all the responsibility fell on my shoulders. Now, I sinned on a nightly basis, but the sin in the form of loving another isn’t sin at all according to my heart. It was apparent to me that love was my calling and Sven was the herald of happiness in my life.

I can’t imagine what it took for my father to hold on to the farm all those years I watched, until the summer of '37', when it fell on my shoulders. It was far easier to find a new respect for what he'd done by the time we were in the middle of "my" first harvest, when the best I could do was keep going, not yielding to my fatigue knowing there would come recuperative powers while resting in my lover’s arms each night. There was a confluence of demands made on me and the love I shared with Sven kept me on the job.

Jake came out to offer his help each afternoon, when he wasn't busy keeping us fed. He’d take over, not missing a step, after working in the kitchen for most of the day. This kept my columbine moving as I brought out one of the drums of fuel to fill the tanks for another day.

When I’d look back to see if Jake was okay, he’d be cutting straighter rows than me. I should have known better than to worry about Jake by then, but a bent old man shouldn’t be able to show me up in his part-time driving role. He did amaze me and it told me a lot about men I didn’t know. It also spoke of the wisdom and ability of men many times my age. It’s what I lacked and hoped to acquire through working with men like him.

From Sven I learned that listening to the sound the tank made once he took the top off and thumped it, told you how many gallons it would take. I’d seen my father checking the fuel level the same way but I didn't know why. I may have been in charge, but I knew the men assisting me had far more knowledge than I did.

Pa had told me it would save money and time when he bargained for the newer machine two years before, after the bank took the Profit's farm. He was right as usual. The second machine cut harvest time by at least two day.

Mama had shook her head and warned, after she saw the purchase, "No good comes of buying into another man's misery."

Mama felt the hand of the Lord in everything, but her warning had fallen on deaf ears for two harvests. Now, I wasn't so sure she hadn't been right all along. I certainly wouldn’t park such an important part of our production, but the words came back to me as I watched Ralph drive it in his usual frantic way.

I almost didn’t dare to trust him with it, but Ralph would be better as an ally than as a constant source of conflict. I’d cultivated his distrust and enmity and now it was time to make things right by trusting him, even though I cringed every time he made a pass on the main field.

Even with the trucks driving along beside the columbines, the corn wagon was never idle. When Ralph and Jacob weren’t wheeling the International nearby Junior and Kaleb were, collecting the fallen loose ears of corn that dotted the ground.

With so many of our corn bins already full it became necessary for the International to drive the corn wagon along side a truck so they could toss in what they’d collected. Driving was easy, but at dark the boys were all but done for the day, while we drove the columbines into the night, breaking for food, while Jake and Ralph spelled us long enough to get fed.

While driving the farm truck with the fuel drums on the back the following day, I watched Jacob running behind Ralph, picking up ears of corn, tossing them into neat piles that made it easier to collect on the next pass. Ralph rode the International, cutting down the corn the columbines missed. Jacob caught Ralph on his next pass, jumping onto one of the struts of the moving machine.

These two were perfectly matched bundles of energy that seldom took a break before dropping of exhaustion. They filled the corn wagon with the piles of corn with Junior and Kaleb joining them.

Pulling a handkerchief from his overalls at one point, Jacob mopped Ralph's face as my brother struggled with the small tractor's steering to keep it from tipping up on the next rut over. He was working the hardest because the newer machines did most of the work for us. It was a constant struggle for Ralph, because the older smaller tractor fit awkwardly into the ruts we made. His better stronger body, honed with an ax that summer, was coming in handy.

Jacob came in handy as he mopped Ralph's brow a second time, being careful to wipe the sides of Ralph’s face as the sweat rolled in the heat of the afternoon. Then, Jacob mopped his own brow, and actually stood still, until the next time by the water bucket Jake had brought out with the last food and left to collect on his way back to the house, once I’d filled all the tanks.

Jacob leaped from the tractor and ran ahead, drawing a ladle full of water before leaping onto the tractor strut again. He offered the water to Ralph, going back to the bucket twice, and on the third trip, once Ralph had drunk his fill, Jacob emptied the rest of it on my brother's head. They laughed about it before Jacob ran back to drink his fill, standing fast until Ralph came back on his next pass five minutes later and then he went back into motion again.

I marveled at their ability to work happily together, and when Ralph's arms tired of the struggle that engaged him, it was Jacob's turn to drive the International and Ralph wielded the handkerchief and the ladle in return. There was something heart warming about the way they challenged each other on friendly terms. They were always laughing and kidding around and neither took offense at the other's pranks. That's not to say that it didn't wear on the rest of us, when the days were too long and the work never ending.

I wished that Ralph and I could harmonize as well, but I knew he wasn't the one that hit the sour note that separated us. It was up to me to repair the damage that had been done, no matter what had caused it. I was the eldest son and responsible for my brothers. I wanted to erase our rancor but up until now, I lacked the ability to close the distance between us. After so many years, Ralph no longer tried.

Sven had helped me to see the flaw in my thinking. One day we would be scattered in the wind, and I'd wish I could talk to him. There was a lot about life I didn't understand and hadn't thought through. People outside our family had rarely appealed to me. Even as a boy, I'd enjoyed my time alone, walking to the pond to swim by myself and reading in my room, while everyone else played cards or went into town. The world out there had some allure I lacked the wisdom to explain, even when I had no experience with it, or maybe because I had no experience with it.

Sven stopped his machine next to where I had stopped the truck to think. He jumped down as quickly as he reached me and he put the nozzle in the tank and was pumping it full before I got out of the truck. The second columbine eased toward the truck on the other side, so I didn't need to chase Jake down.

Jake stopped his machine with the tank properly located next to the fuel. He was slower getting down, mopping his brow before climbing onto the truck to do the pumping. I walked to the water bucket and filled the ladle, walking it back carefully to give it to Jake. He took it from me and drank as I picked up the pumping. He gave me a warm easy smile as he savored the refreshing liquid. I went back a second time and made sure he got his fill. I didn't have the audacity to pour any on his head, but the bucket was running low by that time.

"Thanks, Mr. Robert. Should I drive the truck back? I gots to be tending to supper if youins wants ta eats tonight."

"Okay, Jake. Thanks for spelling me. I’ll toss the bucket and ladle in the front seat for you," I said, letting Sven drink as I spoke.

I can't imagine getting all that work done without the dedicated people who came to help. I marveled that we didn't stumble or falter or get on one another's nerves, although we were all too tired to get anything but to bed as quick as time allowed. On the sixth day we were in the bottom fields and by the end of the next day we’d be in the meadows. That left the slopes, where we'd spend three more days, and then the harvest was all but done, except for the clean up. We were making good time.

It did rain again on the afternoon of the seventh day, but it was a short shower and just enough to soften the dry field and cut down on the dust. The ground hardened under a relentless sun the next few days. We were well on our way to finishing the meadows, when another shower brought us some cool clean air.

We stopped what we were doing to celebrate the cooler air. Knowing how to keep a count meant I knew we’d already surpassed last years harvest in truckloads. Even if we didn't get another ear of corn out of the fields, we were beyond the breakeven point in the harvest.

The last harvest was modest but it paid the bills and that changed our outlook on life. The slopes were tricky and the trucks were hardly able to stay upright as we moved from the bottom up. Jake now drove the food out to us and spent less time in the kitchen.

There was no more rain before we were done and a few hours into the last afternoon I cut the trucks loose and ordered the machines shut down where they stood. I climbed down exhausted. I intended to take a break, after a week and a half of constant motion, except when we went in to eat at the table or when we were sleeping, and even then I felt as though the earth was moving under me.

"What's wrong, Robert?" Ralph asked with concern as he left the International tilted at an awkward angle in one of the ruts. "Why'd you cut old man Crosby's trucks loose? We only got a couple more hours at most. We're near about done."

"Not a thing wrong, Ralph. We'll ride back in the wagon, finish up here in the morning, after we get a full night's sleep. I'm beat. You've all done more than your share," I said, with everyone standing around to hear where I stood. "The rest of this will go to the grain barn; no hurry. It'll be full before we run out of corn. Junior’s cows are going to have a fine winter."

"We made it," Junior yelled, leaping with joy. "I didn't think you could do it, Robert, but you did it. Pa'd be proud of you. Hell, I’m proud of you."

“Boy, you ain’t in no bar,” Jake warned.

"Yes, Pa’ll be proud," Ralph said. "You pulled it off, big brother, and you said you weren't a farmer. Go away from here with that talk. You're a damn good farmer."

“Yeah, you is,” Jake agreed.

Ralph hugged me, lifting me off my feet, and spinning around with me in his arms.

"We all did it, Ralph. We did it for Pa. It took all of us to get it done; Jacob, Kaleb, and especially Sven. We all made it happen and I need to wash up," I said, once he set me back down. "Everything I put on is full of corn silk. I want to clean up, put on something fresh, have a quiet relaxing supper, and sleep. I want to sleep until the cows come home. We'll finish up tomorrow or the next day. There's no hurry now. Even the rain can’t hurt us now"

"Yes," Ralph agreed, and we all loaded up into the wagon, collapsing satisfied on the newly collected corn as Ralph drove back to the house with a well-worn out crew.

It didn't take long for us to get the mile and some back to the house. The first stop was the kitchen, and Jake went about feeding the influx of hungry farmers. He couldn't keep the food coming fast enough. We took our time finishing the ham salad sandwiches and cole slaw that he had ready to bring out to us.

It was unusually quiet with Ralph and Jacob being the only ones with energy enough for pranks. Luckily Jake already had supper cooking or we might not have gotten a hot meal that night, because we were in his way, until the four youngest decided to go and wash up.

Sven suggested we wait until they got finished and it would still be plenty warm for a good scrub, although the water from the well was always plenty cool, and once the sun got low in the sky, it was downright cold. Jake filled up our cups with fresh steaming coffee and I leaned back to enjoy the moment, because I’d beaten the odds and the three grownups were left smiling in peace and quiet in a wonderful smelling kitchen.

Chapter 17

Team Work & Child’s Play

We gave the boys half an hour of uninterrupted cleanup time, figuring that was twice the normal time they took to wash up, but it was early and the sun was still high in the sky. After securing clean towels and the last fresh bar of soap I’d hidden away, Sven and I headed for the barn and the pump behind it, expecting a peaceful cleanup of our own.

We were mightily surprised when we rounded the corner, expecting to see the boys as clean as a whistle and dressed in the fresh clothes Jake put out for them. The thought that comes to mind is, boys will be boys. Much to our chagrin, these particular boys weren’t quite finished.

As Jacob washed under one of his outstretched arms a shiny clean Ralph manned the pump to keep the water flowing for his friend. They'd had enough time to get most of the folks in Iowa washed up, but they hadn't managed to finish yet.

That wasn't the worst of it, because Junior and Kaleb were wallowing like a couple of sows in the mess that formed downhill of where we washed. The length of time they'd spent pumping out water led to a gathering mud bog working its way toward Jacob’s feet.

"Junior," I yelled, unhappy that their scheduling conflicted with mine.

Sven touched my shoulder as a reminder to the new and improved Robert who no longer needed to run everything every minute of the day. There was plenty of time before supper and the sun was still high over the barn shining brightly on the bathers to take the chill off the cold water wash.

"What," Junior yelped in a sharp tone.

"You're the same color as Kaleb," I answered. "You must be brothers."

Everyone cracked up, having expected to hear my unpleasantness emerge. Jacob and Ralph laughed hardest first noticing the milk chocolate colored mud that covered their brothers. Jacob leaned on the wooden frame that kept the pump and the slight rise it was built into from collapsing onto the bather. He held his sparkling clean forearm against Ralph's to compare the color.

Ralph looked at Jacob's arm comparing it to his own before looking toward Junior and Kaleb. As Jacob turned to see what Ralph was looking at, Ralph came off the slope onto Jacob's back causing him to stumble off balance.

Now, ankle deep in mud, his knees buckling under the addition of Ralph’s weight, Jacob was on his way down. In an impressive maneuver Jacob put one of his hands on the ground shifting his weight onto one leg, twisting his body until Ralph ended up being the first to meet the mud.

"Jacob!" Ralph yelped as he splattered mud like a tidal wave that showered all of us.

"I just got washed," Jacob bellowed back at him, as he sat in the mud.

Junior and Kaleb leaped on top of Jacob, forcing his back down into the muck. Ralph launched himself on top of the other three boys. They wrestled, cursed, and laughed hysterically with each boy plastering mud onto the others. After two minutes, I could no longer tell them a part. They all looked exactly alike—muddy.

"Well, time to bathe. You see if you leave them alone, they get out of the way that much faster," Sven said with confidence, stripping out of his clothes and stepping under the pump for what he intended to be a quick wash.

This time I manned the handle, being careful to undress before getting near the water or the mud. I stooped on the ledge and pumped as Sven shook the water everywhere, when the first cold rush hit him.

"We're brothers, too," Ralph said proudly, putting his muddy forearm against Jacob's muddy forearm as they wallowed in the mud.

"We're all brothers," Junior said and his eyes came upon the pure white Sven, who just then was carefully lathering his hair for a thorough cleaning.

Unwisely, Sven had taken his eyes off the children, confident in his well being. The four muddy buddies stopped what they were doing to look at him. Without speaking they knew what they were predisposed to do. Slithering out of the ooze, they made their way toward the unsuspecting washer. Junior positioning himself behind Sven's legs, Ralph and Jacob each grabbed an arm, yanking Sven back toward the muck. With Kaleb's help there seemed to be no way for Sven to escape his fate, and yet, somehow, he maintained enough balance to keep the four boys from dragging him down. He had no intention of cooperating as he used his strength to regain his balance, tossing the boys to the side one by one. It was an admirable display.

Sven's blue eyes were open wide as he sensed victory was in his grasp. He looked directly at me, expecting my unconditional support under any and all circumstances. I, on the other hand, must admit I wanted to impress Sven with my loyalty by going to his aid, except it was all too perfect for me to resist. Not only couldn't I help Sven, but I couldn't even help myself. I took my two very clean hands, planted them on his freshly scrubbed chest and shoved him back toward the muck and mud and the direction in which the popular momentum was flowing. He got one leg over top of Junior, avoiding an immediate fall for a second or two, but when Junior raised up, Sven's second leg became hooked on my brother and he was doomed. To add insult to injury Kaleb leaped on top of him as he hit the ground and then all five of them were wrestling, cussing, and laughing their heads off.

I stood watching the melee, laughing at the spontaneous fun. I had little experience with spontaneity or vast good humor. My life had been a controlled operation for a long time. It was the only way I could keep it on course. Doing anything on the spur of the moment was not something I did.

I stood watching the exuberance as they all got lost in one another's joy. I was a part of it in more ways than one. With enough never being enough for Ralph he leaped from the mess to get me in a bear hug and he carried me to the gathering. In spite of my protests, he deposited me in amongst the great unwashed.

I bounced off Kaleb and ended up flat on my back with Ralph leaping on top of me. Sven held my shoulders to keep me from arising, at which time they proceeded to plaster me with mud. Each time I thought I could make an escape, someone pulled me back into the middle of the muddle, and we wrestled and cussed and laughed, but especially we laughed hard and long.

"What in God's green earth is you boys a doin'?" Jake yelled, coming to a sudden stop as he got to the corner of the barn. "No wonder youse is takin' so long. I could hear yeahs all the way up ta the house."

Jake stood in my mother's gingham apron, the large wooden spoon he favored in his hand. There was a disbelieving look on his face as he examined us carefully. It was then that Jacob left the fun and started toward Jake like some stealthy cat, stalking his prey.

"You best stop where you is boy. I'll brain you for sure you try an get me in there," Jake warned, waving the spoon like an ancient war club.

………..

These are the memories that permeate my mind as I think back on the happiest time of my life. It was as Sven told me it would be. I stopped writing in my journal several years back. I lost interest in detailing the struggle life had become, but Jake died last week and once I started to think back on the day I first saw him, I couldn’t stop the words as they ran out of me like tears.

I’ve written day and night, except for his funeral. My most vivid memories of Jake are of him in one of Mama’s aprons carrying that spoon.

The funeral was a private doing. Most of the town folks were never too keen on his place at our house. Mama and Pa were there, Ralph came over from Omaha, where he settled. Junior and Kaleb were the only other people there besides me. Pa suggested Junior take the land west of the meadows for his dairy cows, once he returned from the war. There weren’t a lot of friends but those of us that were lucky enough to have known Jake loved him. I would have been lost without his cantankerous companionship in the years everyone went off to war.

On his last day he was in the field with me as I walked through the corn. He’d helped me plant each of the ten seasons he lived with us and this will be the first harvest he missed since he came.

We sat at the dinner table sipping Mama’s coffee after supper. Him and Pa played checkers on the porch, smoking their pipes and watching the stars.

“Why Jake, I think you’re slipping. That’s two games in a row you let me beat you.”

“Youse outplayed me for sure, Mister.”

Jake called it a night early and came back into the kitchen, standing motionless just inside the screen.

“I’s a mite tired this evening. I think I’ll turn in early.”

“I’m making cocoa, Jake. Want me to bring you a cup.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. That’d be just the thing. Nudge me if I’s a drifted off. I’ll wake up for a cup of your cocoa.”

Mama watched Jake pass through the kitchen slower than I’d ever seen him move. It sure wasn’t like Jake to be dragging so early in the evening. It wasn’t fifteen minutes later Mama carried the cup of cocoa into the Parlor where Jake slept on the sofa for all those years.

“Robert,” she called like something had startled her.

I left my steaming cup of cocoa and walked down past the staircase and stopped beside Mama. There, lying on the sofa, Jake had the most blissful look on his face. He was smiling. One of his long arms drooped down and his bent and tangled fingers lie still against the dark wood of the floor. There was no movement and no sign of life. Jake had simply gone to sleep for the final time.

I felt tied in a knot as Jake was the final firm piece that connected us all back to my first harvest. I went to the phone in the hallway and dialed the phone exchange to get me the sheriff. I reported Jake’s death but there was never much interest concerning the facts of the matter.

When I went out onto the back porch I couldn’t look at Pa. I stood at the railing looking out on my farm, considering the past ten years and all that had passed me by.

“What’s wrong, Robert?” Pa asked, his voice not at all clear.

“Jake just died,” I said in a sob.

Pa sat silent for a long time and I gathered in my emotions. It was easier to regain self control now, but there had been a lot of tears over the years.

“He was a good ole’ boy,” Pa said after he gathered himself to give his assessment of the man that had come to mean as much to him as he meant to me.

“Yes, he was,” I answered softly.

“We can put him out near the meadows. There’s a spot out there where I wouldn’t mind being planted myself. We’ll go out in the morning and I’ll show you.”

Jake was 78, or thereabouts, according to his own accounting, which is what we put on his stone, Jake Pruett, Farmer and Friend, 78 or thereabouts.

On more than one occasion I would walk the distance from the house to pay my respects.

…………………….

I stopped writing after that flood that came over me after Jake’s death. My desire then was to relive the harvest of ‘37’ and recall how young and alive we all were. I wrote all those details for my own benefit. It was the best of times for me.

Today, less than a year after Jake passed, we buried Pa in the spot he showed me. Had the locals known we’d buried Pa next to a black man, well, I don’t want to dwell on what goes on inside of other people’s minds with the mysteries of my own mind being considerable.

When Mama told me where she wanted Pa, I asked her about the church and the graveyard behind. I wondered if she didn’t want him buried in holy ground.

“Your Pa sweat and bled for this ground. There’s no more holy place for a Sorenson.”

Mama endured the scorn of her church going piers. Once they found out we kept Jake in the house with us, they soured on us. They were happy to have our business and were pleasant enough to our faces, but the looks and offhand comments told a different story. It just wasn’t Christian for a white family to have a black man living in the house with them. There was a noticeable strain on Mama’s face when approached by one of them to make small talk, when we were into town to shop.

With Pa’s death comes the realization that I won’t live forever. It became clear to me that I needed to write down what took place in the years after my first harvest or it would forever be lost.

It was never my intention to dwell or regale my private remembrances, but once I die there will be no one to remember and regardless of what happens to it, once I write it down it will live on after me. That has become important to my life if I’m going to move beyond my past.

It’s important for me to explain the people who meant so much in my life. While it’s likely of no interest to anyone else, in a way it will keep them all alive once I’m gone. Why that’s important I can’t say, except it is, and I need to let it out after so many years.

……………

Pa came back home from the hospital long after the harvesting was finished. The machines had all been pampered and placed back in their corner of the barn. We’d picked up the remnants over the following weeks and readied the soil to be turned before winter set in.

My life had once more reached a defining moment. Where did I stand? Where was my place? I became tied in knots over Pa’s return. I wanted his approval and blessings, but it was difficult to forget the past few years when Pa decided he didn’t care much for me.

Sven and I walked hand in hand in the field, talking and making plans the day before Pa returned. The soil had turned gray and there was a crust on top that yielded under out footsteps. We’d had several good rains and the seasons were passing without incident.

Sven and I were standing at the gate to the main field when I heard the vehicles in the driveway. The first thing that indicated what was coming was a wooden wheelchair that was set on the back porch next to the swing.

As we got to the corner of the porch, Pa was standing up out of the backseat of Mrs. Wilkerson’s car. Mama shoved crutches under Pa’s arms as he looked toward the gathering waiting to greet him.

On Pa’s left leg was a huge brace installed over the outside of a pair of trousers. He refused help as an elderly man approached and then withdrew. Mama and Mrs. Wilkerson stood back helpless to deal with Pa’s refusal. My stomach took to churning at his presence.

“Hi, Pa,” Ralph said, smiling broadly at the sight of his father.

“Hi, Pa,” Junior said. “Glad you’re finally home.”

Pa immediately caught sight of Jake standing on the back porch, leaning on a section of raining next to the stairs. Jake nodded and Pa took to looking at the ground pretending the agony on his face wasn’t real. Each step took a minute and at times more as he fought his infirmity and broke out in a sweat in the cool autumn air. Once Pa came to the stairs it was apparent he might as well have been looking up at the Great Wall of China.

Ralph moved up, trying to replace the one crutch, but Pa brushed him back, looking up at the porch as though he might be able to will himself up there. We were all in pain, watching Pa try to regain some sense of manhood in the life he had to look forward to. No one dared touch him as he readied himself for the climb. He kept looking up the steps and down at his feet but he didn’t or couldn’t move any further.

“Excuse me Mr. Sorenson. I don’t mean to presume, but we can all stand here waiting for this new coat of paint to start to peal, or I can take you up them stairs. Once you get rested you can come back and practice without the audience. No point in us all standing out here.”

Sven didn’t wait for an answer, moving up to take Pa into his arms. Pa handed one crutch and then the other to bystanders without commenting. Sven carefully supported the braced leg while carrying Pa into the house and into the pantry where Mama had told us to put the new bed she’d brought from the hospital for Pa, because he couldn’t get up and down the stairs to their room anymore.

There was no one else that could have done it. Pa wasn’t about to refuse help from the man who saved his life. Men are complicated beings and my father was more complicated than most in my mind. He knew he couldn’t make it up those stairs, so I don’t know how long we’d have stood there if Sven hadn’t gone into action.

Jake sat a bit dejected looking on the swing. You could hear Mama in the kitchen, where Jake had been working two entire days to get it spotless for her return. Since the harvest Jake had been mainly a cook for his hungry hands. Now, his future was as uncertain as my own.

I leaned my butt on the railing as I faced the kitchen screen reluctant to go inside. Sven sat on the top step, throwing back a handful of gravel he’d gathered from the driveway.

Mama came to the screen and leaned out, looking at the swing.

“I don’t dare make coffee for this crowd, Jake. Isn’t it Jake?” Mama’s voice sang.

“Yes, ma’am. I’s Jake,” he said, yanking the hat from his head and standing at attention.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’ve heard a lot of compliments about your cornbread. Would you mind making us up a batch for lunch. Pa’d like that. That and tea will suit him fine. I’m sure glad we have you’re here to help.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’d be more ‘an happy to oblige.”

It was a start. Jake dove back into the kitchen and started cooking and never stopped. Mama and Jake could rustle up a meal together like they were working in a restaurant. Mama had her dishes and Jake had his and none of us were about to complain.

The tough nut to crack on Jake was Pa. I’d never heard him speak ill of another man, but I wasn’t sure how he’d feel about having a black man sleeping in his parlor. Jake wanted to move back to the barn, once my parents came home, but I wasn’t about to subject him to the cold we’d endure that winter. I figured Mama would side with me on this but I didn’t know about Pa.

Pa stayed in bed most of the time because he hated that brace and the only thing he hated more than that brace was the wheelchair that wasn’t allowed off the back porch, where it became a toy for Ralph to play with and fall out of.

That first supper with Mama back kept me on the back porch for the longest time. I didn’t know where to sit at our table. It might seem like a small thing but Pa was back in the house, and sitting in his seat, even if he couldn’t sit there, seemed somehow disrespectful. I hated moments like this.

“Robert?” Mama called once the food was on the table.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I can’t say a proper grace with you on the porch.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

Everyone was at the table except for Jake who sat at the sink, where he was most comfortable. Pa was sleeping in his bed and Mama had fed him hours before supper was ready. The only empty chair was at the head of the table. I moved into the kitchen and sat where I’d been sitting for some time.

“Dear Lord, bless our family, which has grown considerably of late. Thank you for this meal you’ve provided. Amen.”

“Amen,” came an off key chorus of male voices.

Chapter 18

New Day

If I wanted to speak with Pa I had to journey to the pantry. He slept most of the time with plenty of pills for that purpose. I appraised him of the harvest, how many truck loads of corn, the full corn bins, and more in the barn. There weren’t a lot of questions and he had a window that looked out on the main field beyond the gate and the corner of the barn.

After Sven and I returned from our daily walk in the field, I was summoned to Pa’s bedside for the first time. Mama had the books open in her lap and the receipts from Crosby were laid out on the bed. I had their attention as soon as I appeared in the doorway.

“Son, Mr. Crosby called,” Pa said, looking for my reaction.

I wasn’t interested enough to ask if he did so in person or over the phone, but I suspected the later because Mr. Crosby knew better than to bring his brand of trouble to my door again.

“Took him a while,” I said. “Probably been counting all the money he made off our crop.

“I gave the man my word, Robert. We shook on a deal. You’ve got to return the money you bargained him out of. I won’t have a Sorenson go back on my word once its given.”

It was the first business we’d discussed. Mama held the ledger tight with both hands and stared at me, waiting for a response.

We’d had a good year and were money ahead, not counting Pa’s hospital bills, which I hadn’t seen, but that wasn’t the point. Pa’s word was as valuable as the farm to him, but I stood my ground.

“No, sir,” I said, twisting my hat in my hand as my stomach churned and my brain started cussing me out for challenging Pa’s order.

“What did you say?” Pa asked, and mother looked down at the ledger, fearing the worst.

Her silence said she was on my side and she wasn’t going to give Pa her word on the subject, but she wouldn’t speak against him.

“No, sir. With all due respect, Pa, I give him back that money and next year when it’s time to strike a bargain, it’s you he’ll want to make the deal with. I’m here. I’m running the farm for you and I need the authority to do it without interference. I respect your wisdom and what your word means in this town. I’ll consult you on anything beyond my ability, but you can’t undo what Crosby did.

“He came up here pushing my help around. He wanted me to hire his hands so he could get a bigger cut of our crop. When he saw I wouldn’t have it, he threatened me. The man cost me most of a day. If the rain had come early we’d have barely broke even on his account. No, sir. I won’t return the money. I’ll split half of it even between Sven and Jake and the second half splits even between Ralph, Junior, Jacob, and Kaleb. They earned it. They brought in the corn not asking for a dime.”

“What about you, Robert?” Pa said in that stern unable to give an inch tone.

“I didn’t do it for money. I’m here to keep the farm running. Plenty of satisfaction for me in that, but those men and those boys all did a man’s work every day of harvest. They deserve to have something to show for it. Thanks to Crosby’s arrogance, they will get something and I won’t give in to that skinflint as long as I run this farm.”

“How’d you know he needed us more than we needed him?” Pa asked, almost in the same words he’d said to Mama.

“A little bird told me. He thought he could come up here and take advantage of us because you were hurt. No man of any account does something like that. I can’t let him think he finally found a way to push me around, Pa. He’s got to know my word is the law and a Sorenson’s word is gold whether for business or in just retribution.”

Pa had an easy smile as he handed the invoices back to Mama. She put them away, looking straight at me.

“Is that all?” I asked.

“Yes. If he calls back I’ll tell him to talk to my son,” Pa said. “You did right, Robert. I never doubted you would.”

“How’s the leg?” I asked.

“Some better today. It’s coming along.”

“You need to get out of bed before you forget how to walk, Pa.”

He nodded. Mama followed me out carrying the ledger.

“We had the best harvest since ‘32’, Robert. You got a good price and we’re able to get along without borrowing any this year.”

“The hospital bills?” I asked reluctant to do so.

“Well, the durndest thing. I sewed for Mrs. Wilkerson in the mornings and night. I cleaned up at the hospital the rest of the day. I didn’t take any pay. I told them to apply it to Pa’s bill. When the bill came, everything was paid in full, except for his linen and meals. All we owe the hospital is $37.00. How do you figure that?”

“They must have liked your work,” I said. “The world is full of good people, Mama. The Lord provides.”

“Yes, he does. They were awfully nice people. They took good care of your Pa and never got enough of my cookies and cakes.”

Things did look good that year and I suspected I’d been blessed. Each time I looked at Sven, I knew I had been. One day while walking over to the meadows, we carried sandwiches for lunch. We braved the chilly pond, but it wasn’t all that bad once we got in the water. The sun was bright and the day was warmer than we had any right to expect that time of year.

We wrestled on the raft before making love. Sven was as tender as he was rugged. It was always about what he could do for me. It was never enough and our affection for one another grew as we had more time for one another. As it was once astutely observed, “These were the best of times.” My life was close to perfection.

On the way back through the fields that afternoon the skies opened up and we were far from home. By the time we made it to the lone oak in the middle of the main field we were drenched. The rain subsided enough that the big bows still full of leaves gave us some cover. We stripped out of our sopping clothes and not wanting to waste our nakedness, we made love again.

It was crazy. It was wonderful. His arms being around me were my favorite thing. I was certain nothing could hurt me with Sven holding me close. He was without equal when it came to making someone feel loved.

As wonderful as it was, putting on our soaked clothes wasn’t all that great. Even my boots were full of water by the time we made it back through the main gate. We ended up stripping on the back porch as Jake fetched us dry clothes and hot coffee. I was chilled to the bone and spent the afternoon next to the stove as dinner was being prepared.

It was well into November when Pa started to venture out of the pantry. Mama had to fold her bed up during the day so there was room to move, but neither of them complained. Pa’s complaints were about the crutches were heard far and wide. He would sit in his chair in the parlor for a few hours in the afternoon. Mama would ply him with cookies and tea and often there was freshly prepared soup.

Pa was no longer the one hundred and eighty pound farmer he once was. He’d continued losing weight even after coming home. While his activities were increasing and his appetite returning, it was obvious he wouldn’t be any good for farming. It was a struggle for him to get from one room to the next.

One day on our journey to the meadows, wearing coats and gloves, Sven went carefully through the trees and chopped off branches he liked. After returning home, he sat in the swing with a knife he’d picked out to whittle the wood with.

Over several days the first branch turned into a cane. It took three days more for him to create the second. When he kept carving, it left me baffled. As usual, Sven was well aware of what he was doing and why and I didn’t.

The day after finishing the third cane, I followed Sven to Pa’s room. Immediately Pa’s eyes were examining suspiciously the wooden offering Sven brought with him.

“Mr. Sorenson, my uncle Ingram got blown up in the Great War. He could hardly walk, but he used two canes and he could out distance me on a flat field using them. I’ve whittled you up a couple. You might like ‘em better than those things,” he said, nodding at the crutches.”

“Yes,” Pa said, not necessarily agreeing to use them.

Pa wanted to be whole again. Nothing short of it was going to please him. Sven left the canes leaning against the corner of the bed and he retrieved the third cane from the porch, leaning it against Jake’s chair.

“Jake, I done whittled me a couple of canes for Mister. It’s going to take a hard sell to get him to use them, but they’ll help him walk. Figuring on needing some other inducement, I whittled me a third cane I wish you might use in front of him. To break the ice, so to speak. I wouldn’t ask ordinarily but you can see how he needs some kind of aid that’s less grueling than them crutches he brought home.”

Jake gave the cane a long look before offering an answer.

“I ain’t no cripple, you understand?”

“Never thought you were, Jake. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it would do some good.”

“Let me think on it a spell,” he concluded.

Jake was no less suspicious of the gift than Pa. He pretended he was ignoring the cane, but I kept an eye out and caught him looking at the design Sven carved in the top of the cane.

It took until Thanksgiving for Pa to eat at the table. Once again I was faced with the seating dilemma. Once Mama went into the pantry to fetch Pa, I leaned against the sink waiting for a sign. Mama had put a leaf in the table to make sure there was enough room, but much of the food was being placed on the small table against the wall.

Mama walked beside Pa as he used the canes to facilitate his movement. He was still unsure they’d support him, but it gave him much better control over his legs. Pa stopped short of the table and looked at me before Mama pulled out the chair next to her. It was still up for grabs in my mind, and I waited for Pa to sit in the chair of his choice. He sat next to Mama.

“Come on, boy. I done got myself out of bed for this here turkey. Don’t make me wait to bite into this bird any longer than necessary.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, taking the chair that I’d never relinquish again.

It was a feast and I was surprised at Pa’s appetite. Of course none of us missed any of the fixin’s, except Ralph turned his nose up at the turnips.

There were two kinds of pie, cookies, and ice cream to get us to the turkey sandwiches, which I loved most of all. Mama had a way of stacking turkey, dressing, and cranberries high on thick slices of her home made bread, not long out of the oven.

I never stopped with one and worried I’d one day be so big that I wouldn’t fit under the table. Farm work would prevent a thing like that, but at twenty and in love I needed to worry about something.

Come spring we turned the soil after what we were sure would be the final hard freeze. There were plenty of us for planting and that made the job relatively easy. During the afternoons and evenings, Jacob slipped away to finish “his” fence. He carefully painted each post light blue and once those dried he proceeded to paint clouds, cows, chicken, and pigs on the posts in bright yellow. He’d already painted the back porch light blue and Pa put a stop to it when he wanted to paint the swing.

It’s at the swing where Pa and Jake came to a meeting of the minds. Jake had given up his resistance to the cane Sven made for him after seeing Mister navigate quite easily on his. At first he made sure no one was watching, when he reached for it and allowed it to support some of his weight. One afternoon, coming in from the field, there were the three canes leaning together against the porch railing, while Pa and Jake were eyeing the checker board before making careful moves.

“I got you this time, Jake. You’re going to lose for a change.”

“He he,” Jake chuckled. “I wouldn’t be so fast if I was you, Mister,” and with that, click, click, click, Jake took off three of Pa’s checkers. “Crown me.”

“I’m going to crown you in a minute. You’re cheatin’ me. There’s no way anyone can beat me the way you do. These checkers is loaded.”

“You just need to sharpen your game a bit,” Jake said. “Another game?”

“Yeah, I’ll give you one more try. You quit cheatin’ you hear me.”

“He he, you ain’t use to losin’ is yeah, Mister? You done got yourself rusty lying up in that bed.”

“I’ll show you rusty,” Pa said, leaning to move one of his checkers after Jake reset the board.

It was always the same. Pa accused Jake of cheating each time he lost and Jake laughed at the good natured complaints. I’d never seen Pa seem at peace with himself. I’m sure there were regrets, disappointment, and pain, but it was rare for him to display signs of it.

As the spring took hold, you could hear Jake and Pa arguing over that checkerboard each night. The corn was once again growing in the field and the weather was perfect day after day.

Each night after supper there was a small gathering on the back porch as the cloudless sky came alive with night lights.

“What are you smoking in that pipe?” Pa asked one evening.

“Lit’l ah dis lit’l ah dat.”

“Smells like something that comes out of the south end of a northbound cow.”

“I smokes what I can find,” Jake said, eyeing the checkerboard certain this was a ploy to distract him.

“Here, let me see that,” Pa ordered, puffing on his own pipe and examining Jakes.

“Jake, I can’t let you smoke this stuff. If it don’t knock you out it might knock me out.” Pa decided, banging the contents of Jake’s pipe against the railing so the ashes and remnants fell into Mama’s flowers. “You need to try some real tobacco in this thing. I got me a fresh bag from Des Moines. You try it and see if it isn’t better than that crap.”

Pa prepared the pipe, handing it to Jake before lighting a match for him to light it. They sat puffing away, losing track of the game.

“What do you think?”

“Smooth. Ain’t got much bite to it,” Jake observed.

No one had mentioned Jake and the boys staying on. I halfway expected Mama or Pa to mention the fact they were still here, but the subject never came up. There was someone special for each of us that year. I had Sven. Ralph had Jacob. Junior had Kaleb and both Mama and Pa had Jake.

It took Pa another week to get around to Jake’s pipe, which had seen better days. Jake had been fixing it for weeks and it was once again in two pieces next to the checkerboard as they played.

“That thing ain’t going to catch my checkerboard on fire, is it?” Pa asked as the pipe continued to smoke even after Jake set it aside.

“I’ll get me a bucket ah water if it’ll make ya feel safer.”

“No, no,” Pa said. “Probably best if this damn board burns anyway. You wouldn’t be able to cheat me no more.”

“Uh huh,” Jake said, and click, click, click, his checker said.

“You distracted me with that damn pipe. I know your tricks.”

“King me, please,” Jake said.

“I’ll king you alright. Junior, come here.”

“Yeah, Pa,” Junior said, poking his head outside the screen door.

“Go into the parlor into my cabinet and bring me my other pipe. This one’s a burning a mite hot tonight. Bring me the tobacco.”

Junior brought back the items mentioned and set them on the swing beside Pa as he studied the checkerboard.

Pa picked the pipe up and packed it full as Jake decided his move.

“Here, Jake. A man oughtin to have two pipes. This one’s going to waste. May as well get some use out of it. You do agree a man don’t need two pipes, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mister, I reckon that’s right,” Jake said with some skepticism in his voice.

“Good. Junior throw this damn thing away so he can’t distract me while he fools with it.”

“Let me see some of that stuff you call tobacco,” Pa said, after a few more moves.

Jake removed the little cloth bag from his shirt pocket, handing it to Pa without looking away from the board. Pa opened it and promptly dumped it out into Mama’s flowers.

“What is you doin? That’s all I got,” Jake moaned.

Pa filled the bag with the store bought tobacco he favored and handed it back to Jake.

“There, now I ain’t got to smell that stuff anymore. I keep the tobacco in the bottom of the wooden cabinet. If you don’t feel comfortable taking what you need, just tell one of us you’re running low.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you,” he said, taking a long puff on the pipe.

“Just can’t take that smell of that stuff. Got to do something.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said. “Mighty nice pipe you got here. Never smoked no store bought pipe afore. Mighty fine.”

“Don’t get so wrapped up in that pipe that you don’t be a playin’ me fair now. I’ve got my eye on you.”

“Yes, sir,” Jake said, smiling as he smoked.

That pretty much cemented their friendship. I’m not saying they didn’t often argue over checkers, but there was an affection that grew up between the two men. This was a side of my father I didn’t see before his accident.

Before long you could find them walking out into the fields with three canes allowing them a greater range than otherwise might have been possible. Pa began to put some weight back on and no longer looked sickly.

The daily exercise did wonders for his appetite and the most vulnerable person in our household recovered most of his health, after a long recuperation, but he’d never again walk without aid.

Sven and I continued our walks around the farm and often ended up under the old oak. In spite of being in the middle of a field it was one of the more private places we used. After making love and holding one another for some time, I wondered aloud about the lonely old tree that protected us from the sun.

“Why do you suppose Great Grandpa Sorenson cut down all the trees but this one?”

“Hard to figure why anyone does anything,” Sven said, pulling on his coveralls.

“You’d think with it being right in the middle, he’d cut it down or grandpa would have, or even Pa. Here it stands.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” Sven said, walking around the tree, brushing at the bark, checking the tree for flaws.

“What are you doing?” I asked, not ready to dress yet.

“Lookin’.”

“For what?”

“When did your great grandpa settle here?” Sven asked.

“Well, I don’t remember that far back you understand. He came in 1848 or ‘49’ I believe.”

“Hows about ‘51’. Would his name be Peter Sorenson?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that.”

“Your grandfather was Christian and he took the farm in 1883.”

“About then I believe. How did you know his name anyway?”

“Your Pa’s name is George and he took the farm in 1915. Named after George Washington no doubt?”

I pulled on my coveralls and walked to the other side of the tree.

“It’s all right here. That’s why no one cut her down.”

Carved into the bark and so dark you had to look close to see it were the names of the three men who had farmed the Sorenson farm since the beginning.

Sven took out his whittling knife and up under one of the thick bows he carved, SG + RS inside a heart. I kissed his hand and I kissed him and we took our coveralls back off.

There was one thing for sure, I’d never get enough of Sven. How the rest of my life had been so mundane and everything since his appearance on our farm so grand, I’ll never understand, but I didn’t need to. Even if it was all a dream, it was a dream come true for me. I’d finally found out where I belonged, with him.

“Pa, that big oak tree. You all carved your names in it. You took the farm in 1915?”

“Yes, I did, Robert. I’d forgotten all about that tree. I plowed around it for so many years I hadn’t thought of its purpose. That marks the Sorenson history on this land. I haven’t taken an up-close look at that tree in years.”

The very next day Jake and Pa journeyed into the field and out of sight of the house. Sven and I were doing maintenance on the columbines and making sure they were run regularly to keep them ready for that year’s harvest.

“Those two make quite a pair,” Sven said. “I wasn’t sure about how your Pa would take to Jake.”

“Me either. Funny, although I had no reason to think he wouldn’t like Jake, I wasn’t sure he would.”

It was a couple of hours before the two men reappeared in the field. I was sitting in the columbine I drove, wiping the insides out. Pa and Jake came to the gate looking quite worn. Pa never looked at me and Jake walked him to the house, where the two men disappeared.

Later, when we went inside, they were arguing over checkers as the radio blared behind them. I detected nothing out of the ordinary and we sat with coffee at the kitchen table and the radio was crystal clear in the back of the house.

“You didn’t tell me everything that’s been carved in that tree out there, Robert,” Pa said in his sternest voice.

“Well, no, probably not. I read what I saw.”

I was certain he was talking about Sven’s heart with our initials inside it. I wasn’t prepared for Pa’s next suggestion.

“You’re going to walk me out to that tree tomorrow. You’ll see what I mean.”

“Yes, Sir,” I said, taking the first order Pa had given me since he tried to get me to give Mr. Crosby the money back.

After breakfast I was out doing chores and Pa and Jake stood at the gate, waiting for me to acknowledge their presence. Once I was finished what I was doing I walked over.

“Come on, son. Times a wastin’.”

It was slow going and Sven strolled along behind. Sven showed no sign of being troubled by what we might find at the oak tree, but he didn’t walk close enough to me for us to talk about what had Pa’s back up.

Pa and Jake were the first ones on the other side of the tree where the old inscriptions were, but Sven was careful to put the heart on the opposite side, and it took a little looking to find it. My curiosity started to peak.

“Right there!” Pa declared. “Now, see what I’m talking about.”

Freshly carved directly under where Pa’s faded name was cut into the wood was “Robert Sorenson, 1937.”

Pa and I’d been at such a distance for so long I was never sure which way it would go, but before I could stop myself I had my arms around him, giving him a hug. Pa stood for it for a minute and then started moving back away from the clutch. We both had tears in our eyes. Mine came from the recognition the carving indicated Pa wanted me to have. Mine came from the years of pain I’d put Pa through. I’d taken my place as the head of the farm and this made it official. The only weight I still carried had been lifted from me.

It’s a funny thing about weight. Once your shed of it, you find it isn’t long before a replace shows up. I was too happy to worry about such things, but the subsequent weights would prove to be of a kind that weren’t easily put down. These years were deceptive and filled with promise and prosperity. They were the kind of years that makes you feel like nothing will ever again threaten you.

Being in Sven’s arms every night reassured me that I’d stay safe as long as he held me. It was perfect for me. My life had meaning. I had love. Things were good.

‘38’ was a good year if not as good as ‘37’ but the prices were on the rise as exports were increasing. When I went in to order the trucks for harvest, Mr. Crosby was friendly and even cordial. He had me take a seat and served Sven and me coffee and talked about how successful my first harvest had been. He asked about Mama and Pa and I had to check twice to see if it was the same disagreeable fellow I’d bested on a hunch and a prayer.

When he started talking numbers and about his climbing expenses, I set down my coffee cup and stood over his desk.

“Times a wasting,” I said. “Last years deal, the one you made with me, will suit me fine. I’ll expect your trucks at sunup and I’ll let them loose at dark, until it’s done.”

“Well,” Crosby said, looking at his expense page. “That deal? Well, I had in mind something closer to what your father and I agreed to.”

I turned my back on him and looked at Sven. Mr. Crosby stood up not understanding my abrupt need to depart his comfortable office and the nice coffee and all. I could see the wheels turning in his head when I turned to look back once I reached the door. I’m sure he saw the confrontation from the year before running through his mind.

“That’ll be fine, Robert. Mr. Sorenson. Same deal as last year. Yes, that sounds fair. Do you want to shake my hand on it?”

“Sure,” I said, smiling and moving back to his desk. “You’ll write that up in a contract and we can sign it together my next time in town, Mr. Crosby.”

“In writing? Oh, of course I will,” he said. “Next time in town.”

I didn’t need it in writing. I had Mr. Crosby’s number by that time, but I enjoyed seeing him squirm. If I was in a good bargaining position the year before, my position was strengthened by the rising price of corn and what was a steadily growing market. Mr. Crosby couldn’t afford to lose any more farmers and we both knew it.

“You have any trouble at all now, you don’t hesitate calling me and I’ll get her straightened out pronto. We want to keep our customers happy. Yes, siree.”

That was our final tight year in that era. We brought in a fine harvest, working together even better than the year before. Both Ralph and Jacob spelled us on the big machines and Junior took up driving the International without much good will coming from Kaleb, who reminded me of myself when I heard him grumbling about slave labor. In spite of it he gave a fair measure of work and Mama and Jake kept him fed well enough that he didn’t complain often.

Mama came to me one evening once the cold had started setting in. Mama always figured out logistics and what we had and what we could afford to do without, like that sports coat I once wanted at the end of a year when we hadn’t been able to pay the bank in full.

“Robert, you need to get yourself back in this house and use that empty bed upstairs. Lord knows it’s been going to waste for long enough. Your Pa can’t make it up them stairs any more and my place is beside him. You quit the foolishness and come back in the house where it’s warm.”

“Mama, I can’t just light out of the barn to take care of myself. I got men that work for me. I don’t see it’s fair I get to stay warm.”

“You run a farm. Sven’s seen a bed before, and if he ain’t I’m just the one to introduce him to one. You get that boy and bring me in that bedding you got out there and I’ll get it washed up. I’ve put on fresh sheets and my best comforter and that’s the end of it.”

It was the end of it. The first night, after Sven got into bed, he moaned about the comfort against his back. Of course we didn’t get much sleep, but harvest was done and the boss wasn’t going to raise any cane about some amorous goings on.

In fact the boss would have raised cane if there hadn’t been such goings on. Of course the bed did raise cane and the squeaking made us laugh so hard that it interrupted some of our better nights of love making.

Once the war in Europe started, prices were steadily rising and farmers could finally breathe a sigh of relief. Making profits from other people’s miseries didn’t set well with me, and Mama use to warn of such things, but at least we weren’t constantly worrying about losing the farm. I must say it lifted some weight off me, but if there’s one thing for sure, there will be change and one weight replaces another.

It was in ‘39 that Ralph announced, “I’m going with Jacob to find his mama over in Georgia after harvest is done.”

“Boy, that ain’t much of an idea. You both aiming on getting yourself hung. No coloreds and whites is allowed to associate back there. Jacob you know better.”

“Pa, I want to see Mama. Ralph wants to go. We’ll be okay. I know what I’s doing.”

“You might think youse knows but you ain’t never seen no man hung on account he’s a wearin’ a colored man’s skin.”

Mama forbid it. Pa wouldn’t hear of it, and Ralph did what he always did in those situations. He left with Jacob shortly after harvest in late September of ‘39.

The tempo on the farm was reduced considerably after the two most energetic among us left. I like to think Ralph went away thinking we were friends. We hadn’t talked much about it, but we managed to get along without argument for most of two years before his departure.

He came to our room before first light one morning.

“Robert… Robert… I’m going now. I wanted to tell you goodbye,” he said, hugging me and then hugging Sven as we were still half asleep. “I love you guys,” he said, and he was gone from my life as Sven said he one day would.

Ralph didn’t say anything to Mama or Pa, but they both knew Ralph well enough not to take offense at his going against them. By that time their wishes were no more than that. Ralph was a man able to make a man’s decisions as well as make a man’s mistakes.

I wouldn’t see my brother again, until after he was a full-grown man in late ‘44. He and Jacob survived Georgia and a stay in Texas, but only Ralph came home, part of him anyway.

After Europe erupted that year, we spent a lot of free time in front of the radio. Pa and Jake took to playing checkers in the parlor that winter and the radio furnished them with background music as the world went nuts.

The news was never good as the Nazis swallowed large chunks of Europe. They seemed unstoppable. There came a time when I’d heard enough, but I wasn’t about to tell everyone else to stop listening.

Sven took a particular interest, mostly standing in the wide doorway, with his hands on over his head appearing to hold up the door jam. His long sorrowful looks said he didn’t liked what he’d heard.

“We’re going to end up in this mess sooner or later,” he said, after a particularly forlorn report.

“That’s a million miles away. Roosevelt says we aren’t getting involved.”

“The world is going to hell. We’ll have to bail them out sooner or later,” Sven explained. “Same as the Great War. We had to go end it.”

“No we won’t,” I argued, hoping that was enough to hold off the insanity that had gotten loose in the world.

Sven didn’t argue, but he was deep in thought much of the time. When I asked what was troubling him, he’d pretend it was nothing at all. Being as close as we were, I knew when he had nothing to say and I knew when what he had to say wasn’t what I wanted to hear and was left unsaid. It was to keep me from worrying and that worried me more.

Chapter 19

Diminishing Returns

In ‘40’ we were short handed, but with Sven, Jake, and Junior and Kaleb, we didn’t waste much time. With the experience from three previous harvests together, we were able to cut a day off of the year before. Junior and Kaleb were particularly pleased with their more meaningful roles as both took their turns with the columbine, grateful for the break from the International.

We’d received a couple of postal cards from Ralph announcing he was okay. Jacob would scratch something beside Ralph’s signature. Jake recognized it and it made him smile.

Pa and Jake continued arguing over checkers in the evening, while Jake and Mama discussed recipes during the day. Our best times were over supper, when we’d laugh and joke and all talk at the same time. I’d never felt more secure than I did that year. I’d never feel that secure again.

Pa stood by the fence and watched the machinery crisscross the fields. Sven had told me how the week before the harvest started Pa had Sven lift him into one of the columbines. Almost as quickly as Sven sat him in the seat Pa asked to be put back on the ground. It was obvious that as bent as his body was, it wouldn’t bend the right way for him to run the machines and with that he gave up his final hope of ever being in charge again.

Pa watched the harvest intently at first, guided the trucks, and stood at the fence and chatted with Mama, Jake, and Mr. Crosby, when he came out to pay his respects and see how harvest was going.

I continued to talk my decisions over with Mama and Pa, both together and separately. The final decisions were made once I consulted Sven with what had been said.

Much to my surprise, Junior started talking about Europe. He was out of school and got the same news we got, but something about the European war interested him in a way it didn’t interest me. He sat listening to the radio every night like the Germans were in Davenport and heading in our direction. When he announced he was joining the navy, he got less resistance than Ralph got before heading to Georgia with Jacob.

I was still clinging to the idea we wouldn’t sooner or later be swept up in the violence. I was surprised by Ralph leaving the land he loved, but Junior hadn’t expressed any interest in world affairs until that year. It seems I didn’t know my brothers as well as I thought.

Kaleb left with Junior to sign on as a cook or orderly but Jake told him this man’s navy didn’t want the likes of him. It didn’t slow either of them down and we were a barebones operation once the ’40 harvest was done.

It was a modest harvest at best, but prices were still climbing and we held back less corn for our own use. The demand from war-torn countries was growing. Even in a modest year we were making more money than ever before.

Neither my parents or Jake approved of the military, but there wasn’t a lot of danger where Junior was. After all we weren't in the war and Roosevelt kept saying we wouldn’t be. It looked like Hitler might be in London within a year, which was troubling, but Junior wrote us from Michigan, Connecticut, and from a place called Hawaii out in the Pacific by the summer of '41'. Since navy escorts were patrolling in the Atlantic and being fired on while protecting convoys, he was about a million miles from any action and they mostly stayed in port.

He was happy with his life as a sailor, but he hadn't seen Kaleb in many months. He had no idea where he’d gotten off to. As we suspected, he couldn’t join the navy, but he was working in a navy mess hall back east before Junior shipped out.

The news from Europe grew more ominous each day. We sat by the radio almost every night, listening to the latest information about Nazi advances. The one bright spot was the Royal Air Force, which seemed every bit the equal of Hitler’s Luftwaffe, which meant an invasion from France was unlikely with the RAF able to keep an eye on the narrow channel that separated England and France.

With only Sven and me carrying most of the weight, we only planted the top fields and left the slopes and the bottom follow in ‘41. We did the harvest in a week and we still brought in more money than any year previously. Crosby’s trucks took our crop straight to barges on the Mississippi River destined for new processing plants. In a few weeks it was on its way overseas.

We could have sold twice as much corn, but there wasn’t enough help for the farms as the labor force was busy trying to keep England supplied with what it took to wage war.

My life was about the farm and Sven. My parents were always there for us, and I couldn’t remember a time when it wasn’t so. It was fine with me, because I’d never been happier.

One December afternoon we came in from a walk in the fields to find everyone huddled around the radio. There was no sign of dinner being prepared and it wasn’t like Mama and Jake to both sit in front of the radio before supper was done and the dishes were washed and put away.

“What’s got you so captivated?” I asked, not having a care in the world.

“The Japs attacked Pearl Harbor. They sunk all our battleships and bombed the air field. Caught our boys flatfooted they did,” Pa said.

“Junior?” I asked, having heard the name Pearl Harbor from his letters.

“They haven’t named his ship. We don’t know.”

We sat dumbfounded listening to a man on the radio reading from an ongoing description that was being transmitted from Pearl Harbor and broadcast straight to the American people.

It was one of those incidents that intrudes into your life and keeps on intruding. The announcer shook me to the core with his deadpan monotone delivery as he read the words as quickly as they were transmitted to him. His voice never wavered as he read on and on, until I couldn’t listen any longer. I'd never heard such terrible details come from the radio. We hadn't been in the war and it had seemed far away until without warning we were thrust into the middle of the fighting.

Sven followed me out the back door. We walked the fields, checking the soil and breathing the fresh heavy December air. My mind couldn’t grasp onto anything, rushing from one thought to another.

"I've got to go, Robert. I'll be joining the army after this."

"I'll join with you then," I said, certain of it. "We can stay together. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to leave you, but this comes under the heading of larger considerations than the two of us. What I want to do and what I have to do are two different things. We're only free because we fight to stay that way. I can't stay here and watch other men fight for my freedom. I’ve got to lend a hand."

"I'm coming, too. I won't let you go without me. I need you. I depend on you. I need to be with you."

"You can't, Robert. What are your parents going to do? We had trouble getting the corn in this year and it was only the top fields. Next year everyone will be in the military. There won’t be any able bodies hands. Your folks and your brothers will be depending on you to keep the farm going, until the war ends. You are the last son at home, and farmers are going to be needed. Your fight is right here."

"You’re a farmer. You can stay here with me and help."

"No, my place is over there fighting. This isn't my farm. Your place is here. I'll be back, when it's over," Sven promised. "I've never been as happy anywhere as I am right here with you. I'll be back. Don’t worry about that."

"What if…."

"Some things we can't do anything about. This is one of those, but I’ll never be any further away than right here," he said, tapping my chest over my heart. “That’s where I’ll live forever, my love. Don’t you ever doubt it. Besides, there’s not an inch of this farm we haven’t walked together. I’ll always be here no matter how this turns out.”

Sven would have been like a caged animal if I’d insisted he stay. Everything he said was true, but that didn’t make his decision any easier on me. I wouldn’t try to make him feel guilty or give him reasons not to return. The farm was a duty I’d perform because other people depended on me, or maybe because it was the easiest thing for me to do.

Sven stayed through the holidays for my benefit. We walked the fence line hand in hand on Sven's final day there. We talked and he bragged about the happy years we’d shared. I agreed with that observation, but letting him go was going to be a chore for which I had no appetite. I wanted to grab him and hold him fast to my farm, but I kept my mouth shut and let him believe I was taking it well.

He was right of course. Sven was always right, and with all the sacrifices being made by so many, I knew he wouldn't be happy staying on the sidelines.

It had taken me a long time to find happiness and there had to be a world war to bring it to an end. I’m sure they didn’t start the war for that reason, but that’s the way it worked out.

He reassured me, telling me he'd be back, but he’d be a leader. He wasn't about to follow lesser men. That would put him at a higher risk. I knew he'd die for his men before he'd let them die for him. The odds were against him and us, and we both knew it, but I made him promise to come back, and he did, and we both knew the truth, even while we were pretending otherwise.

Those last few days with him, knowing he was leaving me, were the hardest days of my life. Whoever said “war is hell” was right on the mark. It was a different kind of hell for those left behind.

Sven had helped ready the top field for planting, but I only planting half that. It was all Jake and I could do to bring in half the corn we harvested in earlier years, but we made even more money than any harvest before.

It was now a farmer’s market. They’d run so many of us out of business that we couldn’t keep up with demand. With most of the men in uniform there wasn’t any extra help at harvest time.

By the holidays in ’41 we’d gotten word from Junior and Kaleb. They were both alive and well, although Junior had gotten burned fighting fires after the initial attack on Pearl Harbor. He'd stood watching as the Arizona exploded and he told us he was certain that it was the end of the world. His ears were still ringing.

We heard from Ralph and Jacob. Ralph was in the army and Jacob had become a maintenance worker for the Army Air Corp in Alabama of all places. They were all fine and itching for a fight, except we weren't doing much of the fighting, and President Roosevelt kept reassuring us, we’d get our licks in when the time came.

The absence of my brothers left me feeling alone in a way I'd never been alone before. I missed Sven in my heart and soul, but I missed my brothers because they had always been with me. Everyone was in the war but me, except Roosevelt said we were as essential as any army, because we were keeping our boys fed.

I walked the fields alone, getting out of bed at night and walking to the meadows, recalling my youth and all the years when nothing beyond the farm mattered to me and my family. Suddenly we were scattered all over the globe.

The harvest in '42' was modest, but no less profitable and so our finances were secure. My plan was to follow the same pattern in '43' and hope the prices stayed high as long as the help was all somewhere else.

I sat at the table with my parents and Jake with each of us longing for a past that was over. We listened to the news each night. '42 hadn't been all that hard on us and '43' started out fine. That's when our boys went to Africa to help the Brits. Sven went there. Ralph was in Britain and Junior was still at Pearl Harbor. Kaleb was on a ship and met up with Junior at Pearl Harbor. Jacob was still safe in Alabama and happy about becoming a mechanic.

Junior became a radio man on board his newest ship, because he had a habit of getting things that were needed or greatly desired. When he got an admiral his favorite whiskey, he became known as a wheeler and dealer. All the officers owed him favors for deals he made on their behalf. When he asked his captain for Kaleb to be assigned to his ship’s mess, Kaleb appeared a few weeks later.

My mind was often on Sven, and hearing from him was the highlight of any week or month. He wrote regularly and tried to reassure me, but in '43' he was in harms way much of the time. The weather was hot and the conditions fierce, but he saw little fighting as the German's were on the run by the time the American's were getting organized.

There had been a terrible armored battle with the Americans being badly defeated early on. Sven wrote he hadn’t been there, but later on Patton had vowed it would never happen again, and the first chance he got he chased the Nazis and General Rommel's forces from the field in a rout.

Sven said they would be heading north from there. It turned out he was in Sicily and from there it would be onto Europe according to what the news reports said.

Then, I began spending my days in the field, staying away from everyone and all the news, fearing the worst and wanting to know nothing about what was going on out there. I can’t be sure what was more difficult, actually fighting a war or watching helplessly as everyone you love does the fighting.

My mother sat with me, while I drank my morning coffee. She had become polite enough not to mention the war for fear of upsetting my day. At times I’d come in from the daily chores and Mama would be reading one of my brother’s letters. Sometimes she’d be reading aloud to Jake if he’d gotten something from one of his boys. Jake kept their letters in his shirt pocket tied together in a blue ribbon Mama tied around them.

With Kaleb on board with Junior, Kaleb always added something for Jake, saying he didn’t have time to write. It seems Kaleb was always in hot water for speaking his mind. I figured he’d end up in jail or in politics. Junior kept calling in favors to keep him out of the brig but even his influence wasn’t always enough.

Harvest ‘43 we put money in the bank and in ’44 we paid cash for everything. Crosby had come out to watch and talk to Mama and Pa. He wasn’t particularly interested in talking to me. The next day we had one fewer trucks. I’d noticed Crosby looked particularly fat and pale. A week later Mama and Pa attended his funeral.

I went to school with Crosby’s son. He was a snob, trading on his daddies influence, but we all knew it and he knew we did. It didn’t go all that well for him. He took over Crosby’s Feed and Grain. I was dealing on his daddies deal with me and so we had no cause to meet until harvest was over.

John Crosby gave me a warm smile and firm handshake the first time we met in his office. We laughed at what an impossible lad he’d been and it was then I realized how fast time was moving. I was a farmer’s son doing business with Crosby’s son. We shook hands and never had a bit of trouble between us.

A few months later he brought a new International out, having heard his father talk about the pathetic machines that got Pa. When I held up my hands and said, no, he laughed and said it was on loan. He wanted me to try it in ’44 and if I didn’t like it he’d come pick up. If I did like it, he’d make me a very good deal.

Crosby had mostly rented things like hands, trucks, and tractors. His son set up part of the feed and grain to sell equipment. I bought the International because it was cheap and clean to run. It was the start of a good friendship.

Ralph’s letters indicated he was still in England. It was early '44 when Ralph started talking about seeing action soon. He couldn't say where or when, and it was just as well.

Junior had seen action in the South Pacific, having a ship torpedoed out from under him. They were lucky enough to be in a large armada, which saw him in the water for less than an hour. Kaleb was fine but ended up on a different ship from Junior. There was no talk of wheeling and dealing him back on with Junior’s new ship.

Jacob had left Alabama and was now in the army in the Pacific with an all black unit, joining up as quick as he heard he could. His hope was to go to Europe to meet up with Ralph, but they sent him into the Pacific.

D-Day had all of us on pins and needles and in front of the radio, even with more work to do than I could handle, but I never went out into the field that day. Ike was going head-on against the Atlantic Wall and everyone said he could never penetrate the fortifications Hitler had put there to stop such a thing.

Jake was still listening in the den when I got up the day after D-Day. They were securing the shoreline and moving inland but we had paid an awful price. According to the reports, in the middle of the second day, the worst was over and the invasion of Europe was on. Ike had defied the odds but it was his men that made it happen.

I listened every minute on D-Day, because my brother was probably there. We wouldn’t know anything until Ralph wrote or didn’t, and so I went back to farming and avoiding the radio. They were all in harms way now and our appetite for the radio was gone.

The long silence after D-Day, gave us no pleasure. Mama moped about the house like she'd lost all interest in life. Ralph had posted a letter on a regular basis for the past two years, and now, we heard not a word. We all suspected the worst and I was left to lie awake each night with sleep rarely visiting me for long.

Ralph was the farmer. He should have been home and I should have been in the war. There is no explanation for the way things happen. Every time Mama talked about the Lord working in mysterious ways, I thought about how totally random life and death could be.

It was three weeks to the day that the phone call came. It wasn't from Ralph, but it was about Ralph. We all held our breaths as Mama held the phone tight to her ear, "Yes, yes, yes, yes. Thank you. Good-bye."

After she hung up, she put her hand to her mouth. Her eyes had teared up and her expression told us nothing.

"What in the hell did they have to say?" Pa demanded, ready to jump out of his skin.

"He was wounded. He can't write. He's coming home. Ralph's coming home. He's alive. Thank God, he's alive."

Everyone cried and laughed and smiled through their tears. Mama didn't tell us that he couldn't write because he had lost his right arm. It was just as well. He was well enough to travel and as quick as they could get him on a boat, he'd be on his way home. It was the best day we had that year. I was relieved.

The fields were growing high by the time Ralph walked up the driveway in his uniform, carrying his duffel bag with his only arm two days after his discharge from military service. Mama saw him from the window and shrieked like she’d just been shot. We all jumped on him before he could get up the steps. It was the first time he'd ever seen my father cry and he seemed embarrassed by all the attention.

There were hugs all around, but Ralph soon soured on the reunion. He sat at the table and spoke one time about what he remembered of D-Day. Ralph had lost more than an arm.

He was on a landing craft. The noise was straight out of hell. Half of them were seasick and the other half were too damn scared to be seasick. The landing craft hit something, turning it to one side. The ramp fell down and everyone started to charge out into the battle.

He didn't know how he was wounded and he didn't remember anything else until he woke up in a hospital in England. What he did remember was the instant his landing craft lurched to a halt and let them out. They found themselves facing a wall of fire that none of them were prepared to face. His face was splattered with other men’s blood before it was his turn to charge into the surf.

Once he told us all he had to say on the subject, he said no one should ever ask him about that day again. It wasn't the wound that haunted my brother but the memory of all his dead buddies who never made it to the beach. He seemed to remember that part pretty well.

"Jacob?" Ralph said, without elaborating.

"Pacific," Jake said soulfully.

"He's in combat?" Ralph wanted to know.

"He's with a colored unit. He said they was going to fight."

"Junior and Kaleb," Ralph followed.

"Pacific. No news for months."

"Sven?"

Ralph looked up as I walked out on him. I couldn't bear any more words. I never knew what pain was until I got the news about Sven. I'd never heard of Anzio. Word was it was a beach, but war is hell and beaches were deadly.

They'd taken that beach without much of a fuss. Sven wrote me he was in Italy. They weren’t opposed at all, but once ashore no one seemed to know where they should go. This made Sven uneasy. The objective was Rome, less than a days march north. They were moved to a spot where the 5th and 8th Armies would meet. They didn’t, leaving Sven’s unit exposed fto a German counterattack..

The details were explained by Raymond Moffitt. He was in Sven’s unit and drove to the house after his return from the war. He was no more than a boy with hair so blond it was nearly white. He had a baby face and he was as brown as if he’d spent the summer at the beach.

Raymond shipped to the Pacific after Germany’s surrender. He got no further than Hawaii when the war ended. He waited there for orders home.

Mama sat him at our table as I paced the kitchen. Raymond kept watching me like I might be a sniper or worse. I didn’t want to hear it, but I had to listen.

“I figured I owed it to Sarge, …Big Sven that is, to talk to his people. He says you was them and he described your place to a T. Hell, if it weren’t for him, most of us new guys would a bought it in North Africa. He knew which way to go, when to hold tight, and when to go straight at them damn Gerrys. Excuse me ma’am.”

“That’s fine Raymond. Let me pour you some coffee. Would you like some molasses cookies?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Raymond said passionately. “I’d rather have milk if you’ve some to spare.”

Raymond devoured several cookies like he hadn’t eaten in some days and downed the milk in a single long gulp, leaving his mouth surrounded by the white liquid making him look even more child like. He talked in quick choppy sentences like he didn’t have much time. The words moved like bullets across his lips. You could almost feel the immediacy of his experience. He tried not to cuss but couldn’t help himself, being too many years with only men in earshot.

“Can’t get use to having fresh milk again. Boy, oh boy, it hits the spot. Thank you, ma’am.”

I stopped and stood in the doorway, trying not to show the pain that came from the boy’s mission, but I had a need to know and decided I had to listen. He still had a mouth full of cookies when he started anew.

“Sarge, …Big Sven, always kept us “sprouts” close to him. No matter what happened he wanted us following him. From the first day I came under fire I followed that order. He seemed invincible to me. He was something.

“We landed at Anzio Beach. We ran into Kesseling’s boys, …that was the German General, after about a week. We’d sat on our asses…. Excuse me ma’am. That’s direct from Big Sven’s lips though. We’d sat on our duffs for days, waiting for Lucas, …that’s our general, to make up his mind what to do with us.

“We landed behind the German lines. They’d held us up for months by then and someone decided on landing a bunch of us behind the enemy line. Big Sven said we was in the perfect position to give Gerry hell. Excuse me ma’am. We had the British and Canadians on one side of their line and we was up behind them. Big Sven said we could have all but wiped them out if we’d only taken the initiative. What the hell was the point of getting in behind Gerry if we wasn’t going to finish him off? Excuse me, ma’am.

“But they was worried about the north and we waited, ‘cause if the Germans came off the Winter Line they’d have us in the middle and with our asses hanging out. Excuse me ma’am. We wanted to get it done with.

“When Kesseling’s boys came at us, we was caught flat footed. There had been little or no fighting for days. We’d been sitting around drinking coffee and resting from a year of fighting through North Africa and Sicily. Waiting is the shits once you get use to fighting. Excuse me, ma’am.

“When the battle started, Big Sven had us take cover in a gully. It was pretty hilly there, lots of cover. We hadn’t seen them yet and the attack came sudden. We hadn’t had any artillery or such as that up until then. It was three mortars coming in, puff, puff, puff. You can hear ‘em before they hit anything. We ducked into a clump of trees next to that gully, but Big Sven wasn’t with us. Once the fire moved off we went back to where we’d been. There he was. Took damn shrapnel to the chest,” he said, unrepentant and looking like he was seeing it again. “Corpsman said he took it in the heart. He never knew what hit him. I thought it important you know that in case you figured he suffered.

“There we were all standing around him. Me and Green and Jessup was crying. I’d seen lots of dead guys by then, but none of them was Big Sven. He’d made soldiers out of us by then, when we was green as Maggies drawers when he got us. Excuse me ma’am. He’d been there for us every step of the way for two years. Damn, we all felt exposed without him being there. Excuse me, Ma’am.

“If Big Sven couldn’t make it how would we? Just a freak thing. That’s what it was. No figuring who gets it who don’t. No figuring that at all. It’s war is all.”

Raymond stayed for dinner, but I excused myself once grace was said, having no appetite for food or more of Raymond’s war stories. He was the first person who came back and wanted to talk about it, but he was only a kid and hearing how Sven died didn’t make me feel a damn bit better.

Epilog:

For the most part Ralph stayed in his bedroom and kept to himself for months after he came home. Even after he gave up being a recluse, he rarely ate at the table with us. Whatever time he wanted something to eat, Mama cooked for him and never complained or told him to get to the table when the rest of us ate. I’ve got to believe that the period when we didn’t know if he was dead or alive had something to do with it.

I remembered what Sven told me about one day wanting to talk to Ralph and no longer being able to. I’m sure he never envisioned Ralph being right there but unable or unwilling to talk to me. Now, he lives in a world of bitterness and regret, while I live a lonely existence with the farm being there to temper my emptiness with large amounts of work.

There were many times when I regretted not going with Sven, dying with him. It was infinitely more difficult living without him. For years any time a car came into our driveway, I stopped what I was doing to see who it was, thinking it might be him, even though Raymond had told us how he died. There was a piece of me that believed he was still alive somewhere and one way or another we might be together again.

Each time I saw Ralph it reminded me of how lucky I was and always had been. The biggest sacrifice in my life was never leaving home. I’d lost the desire to see the world by the end of the war. I rarely left the farm, except to go into town for supplies.

We got word about Jacob long after the war ended. He’d died on an island in the Pacific late in July. The war came to an end in early August. Jake nearly died once we got the word. My desire to write deserted me with thoughts of the past being far too painful to remember.

Shortly after the news came about Jacob, Ralph left on foot without saying goodbye. We heard stories about him being drunk over here or over there, but by the time I got there he’d be gone. He would later settle in Omaha and marry the daughter of a preacher. He was partner in a farm implement store.

The next time he came home was when Jake died. He would return frequently thereafter. The happy-go-lucky not a care in the world brother of my youth never came home from the war.

Junior and Kaleb came home on the same bus. They met back up in Pearl Harbor on their way home. Besides getting a boat shot out from under them, neither sustained any lasting wounds.

We divided the farm and Junior took the land west of the meadows. He started a dairy farm with Kaleb staying on to do the cooking. Junior married a girl we all knew a year later and he had two daughters by the time Pa died.

Kaleb stayed on and is still doing the cooking.

Pa took to his bed the winter after Jake died. The doctor said it was pneumonia and he belonged in a hospital. Pa said he wasn’t ever going to another hospital again. He grew weaker and Mama didn’t leave his side his last few days.

I thought it was Ralph killed Pa. Once he left home the second time, Pa lost most interest in life. Jake dying was the final blow, but Ralph coming home during Pa’s final months allowed him to die easy. It did nothing to heal a heart that had been broken more than once by his two eldest sons.

I suppose Ralph and Pa were more sensitive than the rest of us and were easiest to break. They felt everything down deep but hid it well. What I perceived as Pa’s disdain and harsh judgment of me for failing him was the way Pa protected himself for what he perceived as my disrespect.

I never understood how Pa accepted being crippled without getting angry enough to spit. The first time I said no to Pa, he didn’t protest, because I had taken charge of the farm. I had accepted my birthright. It was more important to him than just about anything.

It’s funny how smart you become in time.

The farm I so wanted to get away from became a blessing. I walked the fields where Sven and I walked. I could feel him with me. I often found myself at the tree with the names of the farmers who’d run the farm carved into it. Under a thick limb on the opposite side from those names, known only to me, was a perfect heart with the initials SG + RS carved inside.

When I ran my fingers over those letters, I felt him in my heart. I remembered him as clearly as if it were yesterday when he put those initials there. Sometimes I cried but later on, years afterward, I realized how lucky I was to have had those incredible years of happiness with Sven.

I can’t imagine what my life would have become if I hadn’t loved the way I loved Sven. It was a love that became the most important thing I ever did. Not only that it was the best thing I’d ever done. Late at night when the house grows dark, I can put my hand over my heart and he’s there, just as he said he would be.

Sven was always right.

I married the year after Pa died and our son was born a year and a half later. I did not want him to follow in my footsteps.

Epitaph:

Robert Sorenson

Farmer

Married: Jennifer Lee Bostic 4/26/48

Born: 11/20/50, SON, Robert Sven Sorenson

The End 

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A Rick Beck Story - [email protected]

Thanks Gardner for not quitting on me.

Silent Fields - Coming Soon - sequel to The Farm Hand