Beneath the Apple Leaves(24)



Out the window, a figure moved down their ragged lane. Eveline squinted at her reflection in the wavy window glass and cringed at her appearance. “Wilhelm!” She scurried up the stairs before the visitor arrived. “A man’s coming this way to see you.”





CHAPTER 18

“Too late in the season to plant,” Frank Morton noted as the men crunched the gravel toward the top field. He nodded to Andrew as he joined them, eyed the missing limb suspiciously. “Come to think of it,” Frank continued. “Too late to do much of anything. Gonna have to stock it all. Cost you a fair piece.”

Wilhelm’s head bent as they climbed the narrow path from the edge of the lane. He remained silent.

“Like I told you back in Pittsburgh, the sheep did a number on the place. Old Anderson just let them flocks run wild and they ate every last blade. Can see that line of dead birch along the creek. His sheep shredded everything to a man’s waist. Whole flock had mites like you never seen before, their fleece all patchy.”

Wilhelm slapped a mosquito at his neck, inspected the bloody insect in the palm of his hand before wiping the blob off on his jeans. His brows were set low; Frank’s voice was starting to bite with the bugs.

“Barn’s in good shape,” Frank continued. “Needs to be cleaned. Couple patches to the roof, but the animals will do fine. Should be coming in a few days. How many you got coming again?”

“Seven cows. A horse. Couple pigs and a load of chickens.” Wilhelm eyed Frank as if in challenge. “Guess we aren’t as farm poor as you think.”

Frank’s lip rose above his teeth as he gave a short laugh. “Still have to feed those animals. Remember that.”

The exchange between the men drifted back to Andrew. A mutual distrust sprung from their figures that squared their shoulders, made their gaits heavier than necessary.

“Used to work the railroad?” Frank asked the question he already knew the answer to, and the knowing made the inquiry taunting.

“Yep. Brakeman.”

Frank stuck out his bottom lip and pondered this. “Good living working the rails.”

The sun heated from the ground up, squashed the pleasantries and made the muscles tight and in need of shade. Wilhelm Kiser stopped then, turned to Frank and folded his arms against his chest. “You finished implying?”

Frank scoffed, crossing his arms in mirrored response. “Implying?”

“Implying I don’t got no sense in managing a farm. Implying I’m stupid for giving up a job in the city for this shit piece of land. Implying I’m gonna let my family starve and freeze out here because I got no sense for farming.”

Andrew stepped forward. “Don’t think that’s what Mr. Morton was saying.”

Wilhelm’s ears were red as he turned on his nephew. “Wasn’t talking to you, was I?” His eyes turned back to Frank and then his face followed. “I grew up farming. My father before me in Germany and every father in line before him worked the land. This isn’t new to me, Mr. Morton. I know what I got into the day I signed that deed with you. So, I’ll ask you not to question me with implying.”

Frank put his hands up and smiled, the glint in his eye hard and black. “My mistake. No disrespect intended. Sounds like a rich history. Makes a man proud from where he came. Loyal, no?” The innuendo clear.

Wilhelm scratched the spot from the mosquito bite absently, the welt inflamed and rising. “A man’s loyalty sits where his family sleeps.”

Andrew had fallen away from the men, kept his hearing tuned to the rise and pitch of the words. Upon the last sentence, he took his place between the men, buffered the tension with his body. “When’s the tractor coming?” he asked Wilhelm.

“Tractor?” Frank inquired. “You’re not using Anderson’s relic?”

Wilhelm shook his head, and with it an air of pride relaxed his shoulder blades. “Have a new Fordson coming.”

Frank whistled. “Pricey piece of farm machinery.”

The pride grew in Wilhelm and he leaned into the new topic as a man floats upon a lazy river. “Had some investments in Westinghouse and Carnegie Steel. Did all right over the years.” Then added humbly, “Not as well as some but did all right.”

Andrew fell back again. Let the men find their way on new ground. A welcome breeze rose across the naked earth and steadied stances. The sweat cooled just enough to unclench the jaw. With the slight wind, their neighbor turned his face to the sky, dismissed the previous hard conversation like puffs of milkweed cotton upon the zephyrs. He seemed to be reading the galaxy, searching for stars in the daylight.

“Saying it’ll be an early winter,” Frank prophesized. “Hard winter. What they’re saying, anyway.” Frank rubbed his heel in the dirt. “Be wise to set up credit at the general store in town. Campbell’s. Whatever they don’t got in stock they can get.”

“I’ll do that.” The horns unlocked and Wilhelm scratched harder at the bug bite. “Look. Sorry about snapping at you the way I did. Still tired from the move. Got more wasp stings than I can count.”

“Oh, they’re fierce, all right. Put up a hell of a fight, once that nest is set.” Frank turned his back to the field and took a step toward the farmhouse. “I’ll tell you what: How about you all head into town with me tomorrow. I’ll grab the wagon from Mrs. Sullivan down the way. Get you set up with Campbell and show you around.”

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