HSA-17: Harvest

With murmurs between the two groups, they headed off to their respective barns. Sure enough, they found the wagon and the gloves exactly as Willard promised. Ben tried on the cutting glove and marveled at how sharp the blade was. He guessed it would cut clean through a stalk with a single swipe. They loaded them into the wagon. Chuck found a water jug and decided to allocate a corner of the wagon for hydration purposes. He set off down the slight hill to fill it at a pump he spied. Norman and Anders hefted the wagon's tongues that would normally hook to a mule's yolk. Giving it a pull, they decided it wouldn't be too bad until it was near to full. Ben, meanwhile, decided the coffee had moved through him a little quicker than expected. He slipped out the side of the barn opposite of the house, undid his trousers, and hosed the side of the barn. While mid stream, he noticed the paint on the side of the barn darkened in a few places. Finished with his business, he took a step back and followed the outlines of the darker spots in the morning sun. Letters scrawled in wild strokes, "H, E, L." The top layer had started to flake, and he could see himself being tasked with painting the barn if he brought it up. "Help? Hell? That could be an "F" and not an "E" maybe." He'd seen scriptures scrawled on the sides of barns before. Maybe someone started one and fell into the trap of overestimating canvas and underestimating script. After a clank from within the barn, Chuck gave a shout and Ben headed back inside.

The wagon loaded, they headed to the field. It took a while to work out the rhythm, but once they had it, the time flew by. After the first two hours, they'd cleared an eighth of their assigned field and had one full wagon. Ben and Chuck volunteered to take it up to the silo with Anders and Norman volunteering to get the next. They made two and a half loads and cleared a little over a quarter of the field before lunch. The work was hard. The light morning sun became a blazing fire above them by midday. Gnats, flies, and an absurd number of other infernal insects swarmed around them, attracted to the scent of sweat on their skin. The cutting gloves made the work easy, but each could feel blisters rising along the top of their palms from the persistent grip. The dry soil stirred up with each step and sent Chuck into periodic coughing fits while Ben struggled with watered eyes and a draining nose. Through it all, they maintained good humor and took pride in their work.

True to Willard's instruction, when the sun was at a midpoint, Norman spotted someone waving at them from a picnic table on the farmhouse lawn. They could see little more than the dress on the silhouetted figure, but the message was clear. They dusted themselves off and headed up, their breakfast long depleted. The beauties from that morning's meal had not been forgotten, but the men's passion for daydreams had been sapped by hard work. That changed as they reached the tables and got a full view of the farmers' daughters. The Hambridge sisters busied themselves laying out sandwiches and pouring glasses of water. None of the boys had ever seen twins before. They looked like living mirrors staring into one another. A foot shorter than Chuck, they moved like pixies around the tables, flashing flirtatious smiles at the young men. They had dark curls and rosy cheeks, but yet again they sashayed hips and breasts that put all the girls Ben had met to shame. Amy and Beth wore matching sun dresses with a flower pattern. The necklines cut low, showing deep clefts between their breasts and allowed a full view of their soft orbs shifting with their movements. The skirts were not as short as those in the boarding house, going down to the ankle, but it wasn't hard to imagine their broad bottoms underneath.

Molly was different. Ben knew it the moment he saw her. She came out of the house carrying a pie in either hand. They looked as if she'd plucked them from a Bugs Bunny cartoon with crust laced over the top and bright red filling oozing up between the cracks. Her hair was pulled back into a braid that trailed down to the small of her back. Her figure was less pronounced than the twins, but her silver-grey dress clung closer to her. Ben's eyes roved over every curve and slope as she walked closer to the table. Her apple sized breasts sat high on her chest, with the small outlines of her nipples jutting through the thin fabric. The dress pulled in underneath her bosom to show off a flat stomach and wide hips before flaring out toward the knee. With each step, it stuck to her skin and even to the soft mound at the top of her thighs.

Molly reached the table and circled around it, showing that the dress followed the same rules on the backside. The material clung to her, showing them the split in her cheeks and the gentle slope of her ass. Until that moment, Ben never considered lust to be anything more than a sin of idleness. Molly refuted that idea. Her form compelled him. It overrode his sensibilities, and it commanded him to her. A wrenching sensation in his gut spread out into his limbs told him to go to her, seize her in his arms, and cover her with kisses while his hands moved underneath that slip of a dress. That would be the extent of his romance or decorum, beyond that first touch of her flesh he saw only carnal desires. The dress would be a flimsy impediment to the lust driving him. He would not care for speculating eyes or any other consequences. All that would matter is the feel of her soft lips against his and her wet sex against his cock.

Except none of that happened. Molly put down the pies and let her hand gently rest on Nathan's shoulder as she chatted with them. She did not flinch away as Nathan's hand brushed against her thigh. Their conversation came as a dull drone to Ben's ears. He felt shattered. His hulled out chest quickly filled with rage he didn't understand. He hated the languid smirk on Nathan's face. The fear of the hungry gleam in the man's eyes vanished into the frothing rage welling in Ben's heart. Chuck punched his shoulder, "The hell is wrong with you?"

Ben snapped out of it. His mouth tasted bitter and fatigue washed over him. The feeling of disappointment did not fade, but emotion no longer ruled his mind. "Nothing, I'm fine."

With the other end of the table served, Molly and the twins moved down to the end with Ben. "Working hard, boys?" Molly asked in a melodic tease.

"Of course, darling, what else do you expect a group of strapping young men to get up to on such a fine day," Chuck tittered. Ben watched him carefully, trying to see if his friend would betray his instantaneous love, but Chuck said nothing more. The rest were torn between the fascination with the twins and the allure of their meals, but Ben had eyes only for Molly, watching her move with a dream on his face. She came to him next, a pitcher of water in her hand and filled a glass.

"What's your name?"

"Ben Holcomb," he answered.

"How do you find Ulster Rock so far, Ben Holcomb? Is everyone being hospitable? That old Willard isn't being too nasty, I hope?"

"No, miss, we've been treated just fine."

"For goodness sake, don't call me miss. I'm Molly to each and every one of you. Us girls take it on ourselves to watch out for you. Have to be sure you don't drop dead from overwork. Papa would do it to you if he could, I wouldn't doubt. Now, Ben Holcomb, you be sure to have a piece of that pie. I made it special. Today was cherry flavored and tomorrow will be blueberry with extra butter crust. You'll have to let me know if you like it. Last year, the boys licked the pan clean. Hope I haven't lost my touch." She ended by squeezing his hand. In that moment, Ben saw the same rage on Nathan's face that had overwhelmed him earlier.

The girls flirted a bit longer before heading back up to the house. They told them to leave the dishes on the table, and they'd clean up later. The moment they were gone the men tore into the sandwiches and pie with hunger born from hard labor. Through it all, Ben felt the cold stare of Nathan coming from the end of the table. Ben ignored it and thought of Molly, the feel of her skin against his and the smell of her body as it passed close. He worried about the sick feeling in his heart, fearing it was lust that would drive out all his senses in a sinful pursuit. Or worse, that it was fledgling love that would grow into a beast that he could not control.

***

The next three days passed in an identical manner. The group woke, ate a ravenous breakfast, drove out to the farms, worked till noon, had lunch with the twins and Molly, returned to the field for another five hours, and then went back to the boarding house where Mira served them a lukewarm supper. After that, they would wash themselves before crawling into their beds exhausted. Still, no amount of exhaustion could pull Ben's thoughts away from Molly. She rarely left his mind. Thoughts of her stayed with him through breakfast and the morning shifts as he waited eagerly for the chance to see her. Then he would leave lunch with a freshly broken heart until he fell asleep. In dreams, she was his completely. Never before had he experienced such vivid nighttime visions, but they became as intoxicating as Molly herself. In sleep, he knew her intimately and not necessarily lovingly.

On the fifth day of their work, the schedule changed. Willard directed Ben and Jimmy to go with him to one of the other barns on the Morrow property. The rest went to their work in the fields, neither group pleased to lose a quarter of their staff since it would mean someone had to pull double duty on the wagon. Ben wasn't too keen on the change in plans either. He worried it would mean his lunch wouldn't be the same as the rest, and he would be deprived of his hour of staring dumbly at Molly. Willard put them in the bed of his truck and drove it out to the barn. Ben guessed from the worn look of the place that it was used for mainly for storage, and he was right. Willard threw open the doors and backed in his truck before lifting a set of planks in the floor of the barn to reveal a dry cellar. Musty, stale air wafted up, but the stone-lined cut out was otherwise clean. Stacked in the hole in the ground were piles of black timbers.

"Load 'em up. Gonna take two trips. Damn things are heavy as shit, and I don't want to break my axle," Willard grumbled. "Hollar down at me when you've got half of 'em on." He didn't wait for a response or give any further instruction. Their foreman had rapidly deteriorated into a walking drunk. He leaned in the cab of the truck for a brown paper bag and headed out to sit under some morning shade. By then, it was clear to Ben and the others that Willard had sobered up to retrieve his workers and now he could slip back into his liquor numb dream. The only fears his employees had were that he'd kill himself or drink away their pay before the job was done.

The two young men climbed down into the pit by some wooden stairs built onto the edge. They spent a minute sizing up the pile and gauging what would constitute half. Jimmy had none of the trepidation about the change in schedule and looked forward to a little variety in his work. He bent down and wrapped his arm around one of the timbers and tried to lift. "Ho-ly-sheeet!" He let go with a grunt and almost stumbled back on his ass. "He wasn't lying saying they were heavy. The hell these dang things made out of?"

Ben stood out of the light to try and get a better view. "Thick wood, but they've been coated in tar or something. Lots of it too. Must have been to preserve them."

"The heck would they do that for?" Jimmy mused examining a scrape on his arm. "Come to think of it, who keeps a dry cellar underneath an old barn that hasn't been touched in who knows how long. Look over there, bout an inch of dust on that plow."

Ben hadn't noticed, but Jimmy was right. Spiderwebs and dust covered nearly everything. The rafters housed bird nests and probably a bat or two. The floor, other than where they'd walked in, was undisturbed except by the small footprints of mice and bugs. He shrugged, "Storage. And I think we're far enough west to get twisters, like in Wizard of Oz. Maybe this was built as a shelter."

"I never saw that picture," Jimmy said, sadly.

"Nor me, but I heard about the story. C'mon, both of us together can shift them. You take that end." The two worked out a grip for a moment, and Ben gave a three count. With grunts, they managed to lift the first one, though they worried it might tear their arms out. They moved it to the edge of the pit, but realized they'd never be able to hold it going up the steps. Instead, they lifted it to the lip of the cellar and set it down. They climbed out, picked up the timber again and took it the next leg to the truck. The old jalopy groaned as the weight settled on it. In the open sunlight, Ben saw the timber was even blacker than he thought and calling it a timber was generous. The things were like oversized railroad ties. With the first shoved in position, they both paused to breathe and look back at the remaining pile. "What do you reckon, about nineteen more?"

Jimmy swore, and they went back for the next one. It was hard work, much harder than the corn harvest, but they managed well enough. Fatigue set in rapidly. Their muscles turned to rubber. The truck was halfway loaded, and they crouched in the cool cellar to rest for a while chatting. Jimmy told a little about himself, enough to soften Ben's opinion of the other half of their troop, until Jimmy blurted out, "I think Nathan might kill you."

"What? The hell for?"

"He's damn sweet on Molly. Don't think he said ten words until after that first day at lunch. Then the whole fucking afternoon he kept asking us if we thought she was pretty or what kind of flowers a girl like that wants. Shit like that, fucking school yard shit. But that was only the first half of the afternoon. Second half he starts going on about her in, well, let's call it an irreverent manner."

Ben's face grew hot. "Go on then, what'd he say?"

"Dumb shit, you know, kind of joking, I think. He kept talking about her tits and her ass. He kept saying shit like 'it's better the first time if you shove it up their ass. That's how you treat a girl like Molly. Fuck her in the ass so she knows who's boss.' And then five thunks of corn against the board later, he's asking what we think her pussy would feel like."

The heat in Ben's cheeks spread down to his fists. The rage he'd felt when he first saw Molly's hand on Nathan's shoulder returned twice as strong. Yet Jimmy's last statement came with some confusion, "Pussy? Like her cat?"

"Aw, nah, like her...you know, haven't you heard that before? Her lady parts." He paused, and the words trembled on his lips, "Her cunt." It was another word that Ben had never heard before. It sounded horrendous, but it rolled around in Ben's mind and soon found itself on his lips. He muttered it silently and thought back to his dreams for a moment. Jimmy went on, "I think he was goading us into answering. And I think if we had, he'd have socked us one. We all kept our mouths shut."

"What's any of that got to do with me?"

"He's seen how she's sweet on you. Maybe today will let him feel the warmth of her glow a little, and he'll cool off. Shit, if no one keeps an eye on them, he might take her into one of the barns and feel the warmth of something else. But I'd watch out for him, were I you. Shit, I'm watching out for him, and I'm me." He sprang to his feet. "I'm ready for another one or two if you are. I can see you're pissed. Go on and put that into moving these fucking things." They moved over into position and took their grips on another of the black logs. Before they lifted, Jimmy added, " Oh, and I think Hank's fucking our landlady. On three?"

Jimmy's plan to work out aggression through labor worked better than Ben wanted. He liked feeling angry. It gave him clarity that didn't come with his fantasies about Molly. Another hour passed, and they shifted another few timbers. They didn't chat during their next rest. Jimmy's good humor faded as the day went on. Ben's mood soured as well as the lunch hour approached. He wanted to get done loading the wood so they could go grab lunch with the others. He'd be damned if Nathan laid a finger on Molly. That mouth breather didn't deserve her. This urged some life back into his muscles, and he dragged Jimmy back to work with the motivation of an end in sight. The last few logs took the longest and came with the most spluttering and grunting, but they finally got the last one on the truck. Their joy cut short when they remembered the other half still waited. "I genuinely think my arms might fall off if I have to move that other half, shit."

Right when Ben was going to suggest going and looking for some lunch, Willard strolled back into the barn, looking slightly less jittery after his bottle and nap. The old bastard was nothing if not prompt. "Aight then, let's get in the truck. We'll take this load back to town and then I'll cut you two loose for the afternoon."

"What about lunch?" Ben blurted out, sounding more frustrated than curious.

Willard's one good eye rolled to look at him. He stuck out the bag in his hand. "A nip of this'll tide you over if need be. I done told the girls to lay aside somethin for ya. You can have it when you get back, now hush and get loaded up." He rattled the bottle, but Ben shook his head. Jimmy took the offer, swigging down a gulp of some liquid that puckered his face and sent him into a coughing fit. Willard laughed and slapped the younger man's shoulder, showing actual pride and camaraderie for the first and only time. The three climbed into the cab of the truck. For a brief moment, it seemed that the weight might be too much, but the vehicle lurched forward and headed down to the road. As they drove, Ben saw the girls putting out the lunch. Molly turned to watch them go, wearing another of her silky dresses, a blue one this time, and gave a wave that brightened Ben's spirits.

"Where are we going anyway?" Jimmy asked.

***

Ben heard a story once from his father who heard it from someone who heard it from someone else. The story went that out west, before the army dropped the bombs on Japan, they wanted to test them. They set up this little house and put all the normal things you'd find in a house in it. They even made some store mannequins into a family and had them positioned around the place. They set off one of those bombs, and the whole damn thing, that full sized dollhouse, turned to ash. That was the feeling Ben got as he came back to town. The whole of Ulster Rock seemed to be a living dollhouse. The streets were empty. The storefronts were open, but vacant. Willard said that most folks stayed busy working on the harvest, which was true. The few men in town gathered at the town hall, working slowly to construct the stage. Willard backed the truck up to a pile where some other timbers exactly like the ones they had unearthed had already been stacked. "Takin them off should be easier than getting them on. Don't have to be careful with the fucking things, after all."

Jimmy and Ben went to work. Willard stayed in the cab of the truck and dozed in and out of consciousness while sipping from his bag. The respite of the drive gave the boys a surprising amount of energy, even as their stomachs growled with hunger. They moved the first log off with ease and dropped it onto the already sizable stack. They were able to move half within an hour with little rest. The timbers weren't only easier to move from not having to lift out of a pit, they actually felt lighter. Jimmy and Ben realized it at the same time and even paused to lift one of the timbers between them as a weightlifter might raise up a bar. Looking at his forearms, Ben thought that he'd put on a good bit of muscle over the week, which seemed fast. With that timber in its place, Jimmy tapped his shoulder and gestured to the workers at the stage. "Notice anything odd about that bunch?"