‘TWENTY-TWO YEARS EARLIER’

When dawn arrived the four men woke from their bedrolls with splitting headaches. Anderson had never drunk that much beer before, and he thought the vomiting would never stop. It was a new reality. What began as a determined ride to Keokuk to enlist, was interrupted by a youthful gathering, drinking until they passed out, not even having the wherewithal to set out their bedrolls.

When Harrington got up, he expressed his own reality. “Did we decide what I think we decided?”

“I think we did,” Bushell said, as he got up to his knees from the hard ground and looked for his hat.

“If one goes we all go,” Stuffy said.

“Lord Almighty,” Anderson said, “before I came you boys didn’t even know me.”

“We know you now, cowboy. We’re pals and we stick together. Besides, my pa is going to be looking for this beer keg and wagon, and I don’t want to be near it when he finds it.”

“You’re just going to leave it here?” Anderson said.

“No,” Harrington said, standing and looking at the wagon. “Besides Stuffy, we only have the two horses for the wagon and no saddles. We must take the wagon,  but we can leave the keg. Pa will eventually find it. He won’t have to pay me my wages this week, so he won’t be out anything. Plus, it’s at least a week ride to Keokuk, we can take turns riding and driving.”

Stuffy laughed. “If the war don’t kill you, your pa will.”

Headaches and all, the four young men left the keg behind at the cemetery gate and headed to the eastern route. They stopped at a café in Streepy and ate bacon and biscuits, filled their canteens then continued until they reached the Chariton River and made camp for the night.

After they laid out their bedrolls, Anderson built a small fire with dead tree limbs that he gathered along the riverbank. Stuffy was rolling a log over by the fire to make a seat when Anderson kneeled next to him. He leaned closer and spoke to Stuffy in a muffled voice. “Back at that café I noticed that you paid for their food.”

“My family has always had money,” Stuffy said. “They kind of think of me as their bank.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No, I don’t mind. I have more than I need and they have very little. So it works out. But banks charge interest. They just don’t know it yet.”

Anderson grinned. “I want you to know that I have ten dollars, and I can help if you need it.”

“We better save all we can,” Stuffy said. “If we survive this, we will need every penny we got.”

 

Once settled they sat around the campfire and Harrington nudged Bushell with his elbow.

“Hey,” Harrington said with a grin. “Tell that cat story. Anderson has never heard it.”

Stuffy laughed and nudged Anderson. “You’re going to like this one.”

“Alright,” Bushell said. “As a kid I had this old neighbor lady who had one of them long-haired fluffy white cats. Prissy and pretty, prim and proper like a city debutante. It was winter, and the old lady was stoking the fire in her fireplace, when the logs inside the fireplace fell out and hot wood coals scattered on the hearth. Unfortunately for the cat, it was standing nearby.”

Harrington and Stuffy were already laughing.

“One of the larger logs threw sparks and the cat’s fluffy backside caught on fire. It ran frantic throughout the room, and the old lady tried to catch it. I reckon because there was snow on the ground the old lady had the smarts to open the door letting the cat out. And she was right. It ran like a blue streak out the door through the snow leaving a trail of smoke. That poor cat had singed hair and a pink butt for the rest of the winter.”

The three of them laughed.

“Go on,” Harrington said. “Tell the rest.”

“As the hair on the cat’s butt started to grow back, the singed top looked like it had dingleberries. Instead of seeing a prissy white cat, the rest of the winter and spring you’d see this cat licking its butt trying to get the dingleberries out.”

Anderson laughed. “That’s funny.”

“Yeah,” Harrington said. “It’s funnier when you’re drunk.”

“Should have brought the keg with us,” Stuffy said.

“The keg was empty, boys,” Harrington said. “We drank every last drop.”

“My head still feels it,” Bushell said.

“I’m not sure the aftereffects are worth it,” Anderson said.

Harrington laughed. “Of course it was worth it. Just like life, full of ups and downs. Makes a man out of you.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Stuffy said. “The real ups and downs probably start after we reach Keokuk. Then we’ll know about what it means to be a man.”

* * * * *

‘TWENTY-TWO YEARS LATER

The corn did well in June, and the pigs were gaining weight. The markets were holding up so far, but July looked to be a problem. After the Fourth of July celebration on the Centerville city square, day after day the countryside turned to dust. Not a drop of rain for two weeks. The corn was chest high but the leaves spiked upward and rolled inward. The temperatures reached 100 degrees and the pig farmers kept them out of the sun most of the day, which meant feeding them corn if they had it, but fed them mostly from the slop buckets.

The pigs were not nearly as volatile as the corn. Baron Anderson and Tycoon Harrington thought it best to visit G. Eddy, who no doubt had great concerns about the drought, not just for his own large crop, but also for the entire cooperative who had been living on hard work and a dream, and were now living on a prayer.

G. Eddy invited the Baron and the Tycoon to into his kitchen, and he made a fresh pot of coffee while the men sat at the table. “Nothing like hot coffee on a hundred degree day, eh gentlemen?”

“I’ll take it,” Harringtion said. “I’m afraid a cold beer would lead me down the wrong road right now.”

G. Eddy set a steaming cup in front of each of the men, then grabbed one for himself and sat at the end of the table. He looked directly at the Baron. “Tell me, why did you do this?”

“I’m not sure I understand,” the Baron said.

“Nothing is truly altruistic,” Eddy said. “The perception on the surface is that you are being nothing but generous. It goes against my core beliefs.”

“Well, Mr. Eddy,” Anderson replied, “this is not charity. The people are paying for the leases. They are making those payments to the bank, and the payments are held in a reserve account, not in my account. This is in case of problems just like this. Somewhat like insurance. But the land is still in my name. If the tenants give up and walk away the land goes back to me. If some day they are successful and want to buy the land, they buy it from me. I’m not giving anything but opportunity. My risk is a complete failure of the system. This might be a step towards philanthropy but it’s not total philanthropy. Not even close.”

“All right,” Eddy said. “I apologize if I come across a little curt. But this drought has me losing sleep. This is time for pollination. It’s critical. Much more of this and the yield is affected.”

“No apology needed,” the Baron said. “In times like this, the last thing a man needs to do is try to explain himself.”

“It’s so bad,” Eddy said, “the Baptist Women’s League are going to the farms with their Bibles and praying to the sky and casting out the demons in the fields.”

“Nothing to lose there either,” Harrington said.

The men sat in silence for a moment while drinking their coffee. Then they frowned and raised their heads.

“What was that?” Harrington said.

“Sounded like an explosion,” the Baron said.

Eddy’s eyes widened. “That’s no explosion, that’s thunder!”

Eddy jumped from his chair and ran outside. The men quickly followed him.

The rumbles became more frequent, then lightning flashed across the western sky. They all looked around wide-eyed until it came down. Large drops that hit the tin roofs like banging drums. Then a consistent fall and Eddy removed his hat and raised his hands to the sky.   “Thank you, Lord,” he said, as the rain soaked his hair and soiled farm clothes. “Thank you, Lord.”

* * * * *

In the next episode of Centerville 1884: Twenty-two years earlier, the four young men reach Keokuk. Twenty-two years later Appanoose County celebrates a bountiful crop through July and August. Meng shows the results of his hotel design to Strickling and Bonus. Meng also serves as a witness to other hobos living in Ms. Marty’s shelter.