The Harvest
The Harvest by T. D. T.
She awakes, just as she has on so many Spring mornings, to the sound of birds twittering outside her doorway. She rises and walks into the bath room. She washes her face and hands and pulls her wavy, long chestnut colored hair back from her face with a gray pony-tail holder. She has lovely ice-blue eyes, set in a heart-shaped face. They stare back at her as she gazes at her reflection in the long mirror over the sink. It's a reflection that she never knew until two Springs ago.
Today is the second anniversary of the day she first stepped foot on the Land. Later there will be a celebration in the town square. She'll finish her chores for the day and then start on the three mile walk to town. Three miles will take her about forty minutes at a nice steady walk. She could ride Lisha, her mare, into town, and maybe she should, but, for some reason, she thinks she'd rather walk. She dresses quickly. She wears her blue meeting dress today, because of the celebration, but tomorrow she'll be in overalls and work boots. She pulls on a heavy apron. She still has chores to do, even on celebration days.
Walking out she disturbs a few of her alarm clock birds sitting almost on top of the door. "Good morning, guys," she says. "Any of you seen Harley this morning?"
Harley is her dog. He went out yesterday and hasn't come back yet. He's usually waiting on her when she comes through the door, but he has gone out and stayed out before, so she's not too worried.
She doesn't really worry about anything, very much. She knows Harley will come back. She knows that tomorrow it will rain. She knows that today and tomorrow there will be ten eggs under ten chickens. She knows that Amy, Babe and Cherry will give her three pints of milk this morning and again tomorrow, and in about a week she'll be able to call Harry in to sheer Ashe and Berry and Clint. Tomorrow she'll think about buying another sheep or cow or putting another egg in the incubator. She'll change her mind because she has too much to do already. She could hire the fieldwork out, and she will get some help come harvest, but right now, she's happy watering the crops every couple of days, by the irrigators or by hand and making sure all the animals have enough to eat and stay reasonably healthy.
She walks into the barn and is surprised to see Elton and Joseph Boughs, two young men from a neighboring farm. "Goodmorning, guys. What's going on?"
"Morning, Ms. Davis. Mr. Evans sent us out. He said he wanted you not to have to do much hard work today. It's your anniversary after all."
"Nice of him. He could have let me know about it, though."
"I think he wanted it to be a surprise."
"Well, it was that." She takes the apron off and hangs it on a hook by the barn door. She smooths the dress down and pulls her hair loose and runs her fingers through it. "Thank you, Elton, Joe. Don't take too much time out here. You'll want to get back to town for the festivities."
"You're very welcome, Ms. Davis. Don't worry about us. We rode out on the fastest horses in the Lands. Excepting Lisha, of course." Elton smiles, acknowledging her horse's win at the last Fall races. "We'll be back in town in time to have some of Ellen's funnel cakes for breakfast."
She walks over to where Joe is feeding the chickens. "Do me a favor, Joseph. Check those eggs and put a good one in the incubator for me."
The young man smiles and nods. "Sure thing, Ms. Davis."
She smiles and heads outside. As an afterthought, she turns and says, "Are you guys ever going to call me Terry?"
"Ma'am, we call our Uncle Terrence 'Terry'. We'll have to call you Theresa or Ms. Davis. Ms. Davis is just smoother."
All three of them laugh at that and Theresa "Terry" Davis walks out of the barn into the early morning sun.
The walk to town is uneventful. It is a nice, warm mid-Spring day and there is nothing out of the ordinary to disturb her. She sees a few large squirrels and a couple of local cats. She hears the call of a chicken hawk, which worries her for about a half a second. The chickens are in and they won't be put out. Not today, Mr. Evans would have given the boys strict instructions. Celebration days are long days. She won't get home until past 9:00 and she'll probably just want to fall into bed.
There is something new happening at the construction site about three blocks from town proper. The whole place has been covered with a large tarp. Terry has wondered about that place for the last few weeks. It is a pretty big project: three stories tall and a city block wide, with open lots on each side. It almost makes her think of a large megastore. But they wouldn't do that, not here. It is something big, though, and from the looks of things it is meant to be a surprise. No one in town will say anything about it. She wonders how many of them know and are just keeping quiet. There is one who would know. She'll run into him soon enough.
Coming into town she stops to admire the decorations. Purple and blue streamers cover the archway over the walkway into town. They are her favorite colors. Mr. Evans knows that, of course. Mr. Evans knows everything.
"Dear Heavens, Theresa Davis! Did you walk all the way from your place?"
It is Mavis Pearson. She of the blue white hair and grandmotherly disposition. She's the town librarian and probably the head of the decorations committee.
"Yes, Mavis. I walked. I walk down here at least three days out of every week, come rain or shine. A good walk never hurt anyone."
"That is true, but this is your special day. Mr. Evans could have sent someone out to get you."
"He could have. Thankfully he didn't. I needed the walk to steady my nerves. You know I don't really like a lot of fuss."
Mavis smiles. "Oh, this isn't any fuss. It's just going to be a regular day. Ending up with a huge party. What you don't like is being the center of attention."
"True. True."
"But you deserve the attention. You've brought a lot of people out to this side of the Lands. We've doubled our population since your first season. That's faster than any of the other villages. We prosper because of you."
"Don't be silly. Even if I wasn't here you guys would still be doing well."
"I don't know about that. You know Bob Kinsley only did the work he did the first year to prove that he could outdo you."
Terry smiles. Bob Kinsley is the kind who couldn't let a woman beat him at anything. And yet she has beaten him. Every time. It is fun having the competition. Bob is harmless. All bark and no bite. In fact, in the last year they have become good friends.
"And Rebecca wouldn't have stayed a whole season if you hadn't talked her into it. She was ready to go home a week after she got here. It was you showing her around the place and introducing her to Les that made her decide to stay. Now her clothes bring a good bit of money into this town. Outside money, of course, but it's still legal tender."
Just then Rebecca Edwards comes running down the walkway towards them. "Terry! Thank Heaven you came in early. I was so worried you'd stay at home half the day."
"Evans sent the Boughs brothers over to do my chores or I would have stayed home until ten. What is your hurry? There's hardly anybody here."
True enough, the town walkways are pretty deserted. Michael Tippett, the general store owner, is out front of his place shaking his head over the large purple banner that someone has slung just under his sign. A little ways down, Sissy Merin and her husband, Clark, are putting up some sky-blue ribbon and little bundles of flowers around the entrance to their hotel. The town square, just further down, in the actual center of town, is beautifully decorated, but deserted.
"Oh, they'll all be here soon enough. Ellen has been cooking all morning. Woke me up at 4:00 to come help her. I think she's expecting half the Lands to show up. Last count she had three dozen funnel cakes on the warmers and another dozen flap jacks going on two griddles. She's got enough pies and cakes done from yesterday to feed every kid in the Eastern Third. I hope she's not disappointed in the turnout."
"She won't be." Mavis interrupts. "Mr. Evans and his group are bringing in a whole bunch of outsiders. This is a big show off day."
"I hope so. I've finished six outfits this week. I'm hoping whoever he brings in will like my things enough to keep me busy for the rest of the season."
"Oh, Becky, even if nobody shows up, you'll have enough orders coming in to keep you busy for two more seasons. You are the talk of the Lands, and everywhere else."
Rebecca blushes. "I do decent work. I love the new materials Mr. Evans brings me. You know he brought me a new loom last week. It does something special to the cloth. I don't know. Everything I use on it just shines."
Terry bites her lip a little and shakes her head. "Don't give so much of the credit to Mr. Evans. You are a real artist. A hard working artist. He brings you the best of what he has because he knows you'll use it to make the best. He couldn't do it without you."
Rebecca laughs and gives Terry a great big hug. "I just love you, Terry. You are the best."
"Hey, if you girls are through with the hug fest up there I sure could use some extra help getting these things moved down to the square. These boys are slower than molasses in Fargo, in February."
This from Ellen Carver. She has a folding chair under each arm and is trying to pull a large card table out of her restaurant door.
"Hold on Ellen, we're coming!" Terry calls down to her as she hurries down the walk.
Rebecca and Mavis fall in behind her laughing the whole way.
"We were wondering when you would poke your head out, Ellen. Becky told us about you drafting her at 4 o'clock this morning. You think Evans is bringing the 7th Fleet or something?"
"No, but every kid from here to Sharonsville will be out here today, and if the way my kids eat is any measure, if I cook all day, we might just have enough to feed everybody."
"Oh, I'm sure Evans has taken everything into consideration. He'll probably have the whole thing catered from outside."
"He'd better not. If I have so much as one whole pie left at ten tonight I'm throwing it right in his face."
(To Be Continued -- Once the muse strikes again)
