Peewee said, “Seems fair. I’ll pay’em and add it to what you owe at the commissary.”
Del said, “Fine.”
What else could he do but accept? He wanted the extra pay, and he needed the horse in order to get it. The slow clop of hooves came above the soft crying of Mrs. Ballard as the wagon approached, bringing her husband to his family. Del and Peewee removed their hats as Gus brought the wagon close to the house. Mrs. Ballard put her hand to her mouth as she went to the wagon, reaching out to touch Ballard’s head, her voice quavering with emotion.
“I knew something was wrong with him. It was the fever. He got it and it didn’t never let up.”
Del said, “I’m sorry.”
Peewee said, “He was a good man.”
They helped get Ballard off the wagon and inside. They took him to the small bedroom and laid him on the bed.
She said, “I’ll sit with him tonight. Bury him tomorrow.”
Peewee said, “I’ll be sure to send a couple men by to dig the grave at first light.”
“Thankee kindly.”
They stayed a bit longer, letting Mrs. Ballard talk about “her Jim” long as she wanted.
When they finally left, they made their way back through the camp, and Peewee said, “It’s gonna be rough trying to raise them young’uns alone.”
Del said, “It’s a damn shame. Ballard was a good man.”
Peewee said, “True that.” He pointed back the way they’d come. “Once she figures out where she’s going, that’s where the woods riders stay. I’m afraid the Ballard place is the only one available. It’s beside you know who.”
Del said, “She can take her time. I ain’t in no hurry to be his neighbor.”
They walked a bit farther and saw Crow coming their way, his expression sly, like he knew something they didn’t. It was how he stared down his nose as he swaggered by, staring at them with a little snarl of a smile curling one side of his mouth.
After they were by him, Peewee said, “I seen that look before.”
Del said, “Yeah, me too.”
Del glanced over his shoulder only to find Crow watching him. Crow tipped his hat, and Del had the distinct feeling he’d been up to no good.
Chapter 14
Rae Lynn
Rae Lynn and the rest of the work hands watched as the fallen woods rider was trundled away, his boots rocking back and forth as the wagon rolled along the path, giving the illusion of life still within. Crow waited until the wagon was out of sight, and then he turned to the men who stood in a semicircle. They had been talking low amongst themselves and hushed at the look on his face.
“Those who worked for Ballard, stand over there.”
Rae Lynn and a few men moved to where he pointed, hands holding hats or hands shoved in pockets. Most seemed to have trouble standing still, shuffling their feet, looking at one another or at the ground. Rae Lynn felt vulnerable, exposed without the protection of the kindly Ballard. Crow’s work hands stood nearby, waiting to see what was going to happen. Crow paced back and forth in front of Ballard’s little group, glancing at each of them, except he ignored her. Forgotten were the sweltering days of work, the insects, the hunger she’d felt only moments ago. Her heart bumped unevenly, and her mouth turned the kind of dry no amount of water would cure.
The man who went by the name of Preacher because he was always spouting off Bible phrases as he worked, leaned over and said, “Best get to praying.”
From someone else behind them came, “He got something up his sleeve.”
Crow stopped in front of Rae Lynn but didn’t face her. He spoke, randomly commenting in a thoughtful tone.
“I reckon y’all made your numbers today.”
Heads bobbed with a murmur of assent, “Oh, yessuh, sure did. Always do.”
Rae Lynn could hardly think. Her stomach rolled. This was about her. He whipped about, the move so sudden, she stumbled back a step. She quickly righted herself and crossed her arms. She made herself look him in the face.
“How about you, Cobb?”
She hadn’t, and he knew she hadn’t.
He said, “Did you make count?”
She didn’t move. Didn’t answer.
He turned to Ballard’s men. “Now, it don’t seem fair, him slacking off when the rest of you do what’s expected, day in and out. Sure don’t seem right to me.” He spread his arms, like he was giving a sermon. “Say what you want about your boss man, Ballard, but way I see it, he played favorites. Way I see it, whites, nigras, you choose to be out here, you do the work. Fair’s fair. Maybe he had him a thing for this one. Now, wouldn’t that be unseemly?”