1.
The man who called himself Dan Gold stood around St. Mary’s Mission, looking for work. He had taken the train from Topeka, after hearing that the farmers were hiring workers for the harvest.
Dan stood an easy five-eight, with auburn hair and light blue eyes. He was pretty big for his age and could have been drafted for the War easily, but missed it by two years. He had a bit of scruffy beard growing so he looked even older than his 22 years.
At St. Mary’s, he followed the crowd of men from farmer to farmer. He had a cloth bag with his clothes in it, though he wore the same clothes he came to Kansas with and had been in for four days. The other clothes were clean, folded neatly by his mother, and packed with care.
There was another farmer, with no one standing in of his truck. This man stood on top of the back of his truck. Dan came over and the man saw him and waved him in. “You there, come on.”
There were five men in the back of the truck, sitting on the sides. The man helped Dan with his bag and Dan jumped into the truck. He nodded to the other men in greeting.
“Good,” said the farmer. “Hope you’re willing to work, boys.”
“What’s the pay?” asked one man.
“Five dollars a day,” said the farmer.
Two of the men whistled. “That’s a lot,” said one.
“What’re we gonna be doing?” asked the first man.
“Hay, mostly,” the farmer said. The farmer got in his cab, and started the bumpy drive to the farm.
“What’s your name, boy?” asked the man seated next to Dan.
“Dan,” he said. “Yours?”
“Mitch.” They shook hands. “You’re not from around here?” He motioned to the bag between Dan’s feet.
“No.”
“Where ya from?”
“New York City.”
“New York City? Why’d you leave there?”
“My parents wanted me to marry someone.”
“Did you get her knocked up?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “No, it was an arranged marriage.”
“No shit. They still do that?”
“In my family they do.”
Said another man, “Sounds like a buncha greenhorns.”
Dan looked down, a little embarrassed.
“Mitch, how’s your sister?” asked one of the men.
He shook his head. “Sick again. It’s why I’m here.”
“Nothin’ at the Mills?”
“Nope. Them doctors charge an arm and a leg for what? To give her some powder and tell her to rest.”
“Doctors are worthless anyway,” said someone else. “My cousin, he went to a doctor because he had an accident, and two days later, he was dead.”
“What kind of accident?” asked Dan.
“Got cut on the inside of his arm.” The man made a line with his finger from the wrist to his elbow. “Working in the slaughter-house in Lawrence.”
Dan made a disgusted face. They turned off the main road and headed down a path, which was even more bumpy and made conversation difficult as the men held onto the edge of the truck.
Surrounding him was field after field of grass. His shoulders slumped – they would be here all day with a sickle taking this all down. With a less than a dozen men? Probably all week.
The truck pulled next to a barn and he put on the brake. He jumped down, grabbing his bag, and the rest followed with him. The farmer got out of the truck, and with a “Follow me, boys,” started bringing them to the other side of the barn.
There, he saw a strange sight. He saw a long machine that looked like an “L”. The part sticking out of the bottom part of the L was covered and encased, with gears and pulleys jutting out of it. The long part of the L fed outward and ended with a box surrounded on three sides.
The farmer grinned, “What do you think? I own it.”
“What’s it do?” asked someone.
“Scoops up the hay and feeds it in here,” he pointed to a chute, “presses it down and it comes out there.”
“No raking?”
“Nope. Ain’t it amazing?”
“No loading?”
“Hauling, yeah. That’s what we’re going to do today.” He looked at Dan. “You wanna set that somewhere?” He pointed to the bag.
“Yes,” Dan said, and looked around. He put it in one of the stables, hiding it behind the door. The men had already gone outside to the hauling wagon, being pulled by two chestnut brown horses.
The farmer took off his hat for a moment. He had very short black hair. He had thick muscles leading from his shoulders to his neck. His shoulders were broad, and Dan could see the muscles defined in his forearms. His bicep flexed through his cotton shirt, which was loose around his middle and tucked into his pants. He had thick, muscular legs as well, straining against those pants. Dan glanced at his groin and could see a large muscle there.
He jerked his head up as the farmer continued with his instructions. “…you and you will load the wagon, the rest of you will haul the hay up. Got that?”
“How much hay are we talking here.”
The farmer laughed, “Boys, we’re gonna be doing this ‘til sundown.”
“Shit, I gotta be home for the wife then.”
The farmer pointed to the path. “Go back that way, then. I ain’t got all day.”
The man looked back and forth, between leaving and staying, and then climbed on the wagon. The rest of the men followed suit. The wagon then went out into the fields.
Dan was not used to the work. It was hot, the bales were heavy, and he fell behind often. The farmer patiently waited for him to catch up. They would go out into the fields, load the wagon with hay, then come back, and unload it into a barn. The farmer brought out sandwiches for them, but Dan drank mostly water. The men pissed on the side of the barn or in the middle of the field as needed.
They did indeed work until sundown, and when Dan got the last bale into the barn, he was ready to collapse. He walked back to the truck and half-tumbled into it. He was tired, hungry, stank like a pig, and wanted to crawl into a bed.
The other men were not as forgiving, calling him a city boy and not used to man’s work. He was too tired to argue, so they took it as acquiescence, and kept ribbing him. He didn’t care anymore.
Back at St. Mary’s he slipped getting out of the truck and fell, hitting his head on the bumper. The other men laughed and walked around him. The farmer had come out and helped him up. “You need help?” he asked.
“No,” Dan murmured, struggling to his feet.
The farmer watched him as Dan stumbled like a drunken man to the hostel in town. He could probably get a bath, maybe a bed. All he needed was – He stopped, patted his pockets like he had forgotten something.
He stuck his hand in his pocket and came out with a five dollar silver note. The farmer must have slipped it in there without him noticing.
The hostel was crowded with people when he went to the desk. The elderly matron there turned her nose up at him and said all the rooms were full. He hung his head down, started outside, and walked right into the farmer, who was just coming in.
“Oh, I thought you went in here. You had a big bag, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” Dan said, suddenly realizing what he forgot. barely standing up straight due to exhaustion.
The farmer carefully put his arm around Dan, “C’mon, sit down before you fall down.” They went outside, where there was a bench.
“If I sit down, I’ll sleep,” said Dan, pulling himself away.
“Then come back to the truck, I’ll bring you back to the farm. You can catch a nap on the way.” He helped Dan down the road to the truck, and bundled him inside the cab.
Dan didn’t lie. He was asleep by the time they got on Military Road.
2.
Dan heard the slam of a steel door and jerked awake. He looked around. He was sitting in the cab of a truck, and the sun coming up. Standing at the hood was the farmer, a grin on his face. “Rise and shine,” he said jovially. He wore no shirt, was in dungarees and had moccasins on his feet. Dan just stared at the man’s chest. He had black hair in the middle, and down his abdomen. It was absolutely perfectly formed. His abdomen and sides had deep cut lines.
Dan rubbed his eyes. “Oh, God, I slept in here?”
“Like a baby,” said the farmer. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I think if a train ran through here you never would have noticed.”
Looking out the window past the man, he saw a farmhouse with a wrap-around porch and two floors. It looked like it had been weatherbeaten and some shutters were missing. To his left, about 300 yards away, was the barn.
“Want some breakfast?”
“Uh, yes,” Dan said, squirming uncomfortably. He opened the door and slid out.
“Outhouse is that way,” said the farmer, thumbing toward the rear of the house. “Name’s Rack, by the way.”
“Dan,” he said, shaking the man’s big hand, as he walked by. He got a tingle, like an electric shock. Rack held on a little longer than he should have, and then let him go. Dan walked away, feeling strange.
Dan used the outhouse and came back to the front. He walked up the stairs and went into the house. A set of stairs led up from his right, and in front of him was a stained glass window. He looked to the left, and saw that it lead to a large dining area and beyond that, the kitchen.
Rack went over to the table, carrying two plates. “Eat up, we’ve got a lot of work to do.”
“We?” Dan hesitated, the fork halfway to his mouth.
Rack chuckled, “I’m not letting you go, now that I have you. Don’t worry, I’ll still pay you a day’s wage.”
Dan ate, and Rack asked, “So tell me, what’s a city boy like you doing so far west?”
Dan swallowed, drank some of the coffee. It was strong. He shuddered. Rack chuckled.
“So?”
“I’m trying to make a life for myself.”
“By being a farmhand.”
“I didn’t want to stay in the city.”
“You’re running away.”
Dan sipped the coffee again.
“From what?”
Dan shrugged. “My parents want me to get married. Settle down.”
“And you don’t.”
“I don’t want to get married. I see what it’s doing to my sister.” He glanced up at Rack. “Her husband hits her.”
Rack pursed his lips.
“But he comes from a good family. He’s a doctor. He knows what he’s doing because my sister, well, she can be a shrew.”
“You’re afraid you’ll hit your wife?”
He said nothing for a moment.
Rack sat back in the chair. “You’re afraid she’ll hit you.”
Dan turned red, staring at his plate. “She’s used to getting what she wants. She’s very rich, and likes rich things. I don’t.”
“You’re a simple man from a rich family. You aren’t the type of man to run around putting women in their places.”
He shook his head still looking down. “I don’t…”
Rack said quietly, “You don’t like women.” Rack went back to eating. “We don’t need to talk about it.”
Dan stared at him, blinking. How did he know? How could he tell?
Rack stopped eating and looked at Dan. “I’m a good reader of people.” He motioned to the plate. “Hurry up, it’s getting cold.”
“You live alone?” Dan asked while he ate.
“Yep.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “People don’t like me much.”
Dan remembered that hardly anyone went to his truck. “But why’s that?”
“You’ll have to ask them.” Rack scooped up the rest of his eggs, picked up his plate, and went into the kitchen. Dan hurried up and finished, then brought his kitchen in. Rack took it from him and started to wash it.
“We’ll start with the barn. Horses need mucking out, cows need to be put out. Already took care of the hen house. Garden needs harvesting. Then I’ll go to town, drop you off.” He finished washing and set the plate on the rack to dry.
“I thought you said you were going to keep me.”
“Oh, you want to stay?” Rack grinned, plucked a shirt off of a hook behind the door. “You gotta do one thing, though.”
“What’s that?”
“Take a bath every night.”
“Agreed,” he said with a laugh and held out his hand.
Rack shook it firmly. Again, that shock. “Horses,” he said, pulling on his shirt and walking out.
They put the horses and cows out in two separate pastures and then cleaned out the stables, putting down fresh hay. “If you’re going to stay, I’m cleaning the barn before the next frost,” Rack said.
Dan could only pant. Then they went next to the garden, which was big enough for a wheelbarrow to go through. Dan pushed the barrow while Rack did most of the harvesting. He clucked a few times, seeing things that had rotted, so he tossed them on the ground and dug them beneath the soil. They about a third of the wheelbarrow full and he brought that up to the house. He took the root vegetables and put those in the cellar for storage, and brought the more perishables up. They had cucumbers and tomatoes along with a sandwich with sliced beef tongue.
They were on the porch when a wagon started up the path to the house. Rack got up and went to the railing of the porch. “Bozho nikan!” he called.
“Bozho Kmowin,” said the man who wasn’t driving. He smiled and waved, and jumped down as soon as the wagon stopped. Dan saw from his coloring and his face that he wasn’t a white man – he was an actual indian.
Rack motioned to Dan. “Kewankah, this is Dan.”
“Dan,” he said, and held out his hand. Dan went to shake, but the man grasped his forearm instead and squeezed. “Bozho nikan.”
“Uh, bozo nikan to you too.”
The indian laughed. “We speak English too, cmokman. That is my cousin, Nakobee.” He looked to Rack. Kmowin, it has been many days.”
Rack leaned out over the railing and looked at the sky. “Yes, it has. Do you have everything you need?”
“We were waiting for you,” he said.
“I just got finished yesterday.” He pondered, then shrugged. “If the rest of them didn’t finish, the hell with them. I gave them plenty of time.”
“Good, good!” He clapped his hands. “You will come to the feast tomorrow, then?”
“I will be happy to go. If I can bring my friend.” He inclined his head to Daniel.
“Yes, bring him!” Kewankah bumped Dan’s shoulder with his own. “There will be many pretty girls.”
Dan refrained from rolling his eyes. Rack said, “He’s already taken care of.”
“Too bad! What are you eating?”
“Beef tongue sandwiches. You can join us.”
“Nakobee!” He yelled out some other words in his language so the man tied the horses near some grass and came over while Rack went back into the house. Nakobee greeted Dan by holding his forearm, but not Rack. Dan realized that Kewankah didn’t either.
“Have you been playing in manure?” asked Nakobee.
For the fifth day, Dan had worn these clothes and he had been working hard. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been working.”
“You have. I know cmokman do not like water, but go to the creek.”
Rack came out carrying a bag and a plate. “Nakobee, be nice to my guest. He’s going to have a bath after this.”
Nakobee muttered something, waving his hand in front of his face. Kewankah laughed. Rack looked angry. Kewankah stopped laughing. Rack thrust the plate of food at Kewankah, who took it. He looked at Dan and said, “I’m sorry.”
Dan flushed a deep red of embarrassment. “I’ll go take it now.” Before anyone could say anything, he went to the barn.
He went to his bag, which he had put in a different place other than the stables. He opened the bag and could smell his mother’s cooking. He missed his mother. And his father. And the cousins who were always underfoot. Then he thought about Rebecca, the fat whining bitch of a girl and how his mother had told him what a good match she’d be. How his father gave him the ticket to get on the train to Boston telling him to be nice to the Mendelsons. How he got off at the next stop, threw his yarmulke over the side of the tracks, took the money his mother gave him and bought a ticket as far west as he could go with it, which brought him here.
He took out the five dollar silver certificate and put it in the pocket of his new pants. He wondered if he should send his parents a post or something, because once they found out from the Mendelsons that never got there, they would be worried.
“I can spare a bit for a post card,” said Rack as he came into the barn.
Dan got up and turned around. “You’ve doing that to me all day.”
“What?” Rack tried to look innocent.
“Telling me what I’m thinking.”
“You’re an easy person to read, Dan. If that’s your real name.”
He looked at his clothes. “No.”
“Daniel?”
“Jordan,” he said.
Rack came up to him and put his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Jordan what?”
“Jordan Blumgold.”
“I’ll still call you Dan, if that’s all right with you.”
Dan nodded. “Please,” he said.
“You’re not only running away from your marriage, but you’re running away from your life, your family. You want to make a new life, here.”
“Stop it,” Dan said, throwing his clothes down and glaring at Rack. “Stop telling me what I’m thinking!”
“All right, I will.”
He let Dan’s shoulder go. Dan reached up with his other hand and took Rack’s hand. The shock was there again but he ignored it. Rack’s hand was calloused, and rough from work. Is this what he had to look forward to?
Rack laid his hand gently back on Dan’s shoulder. Dan pulled on Rack’s hand, pulling it down lower. Rack dropped to his knees, to Dan’s level.
Dan saw that Rack’s eyes were black, not even a dark brown. The eyes were a window into his soul, and Dan saw that Rack had lived a hard life, alone, out here on the prairie. He lived a hard live, period. Dan wanted to ease that, to help him. He started to lean forward, his eyes closed, preparing to kiss those succulent lips…
“No!” Rack yelled, backing away like a crab. “No, I can’t!”
Dan backed away, into his bag. “I’m – I’m sorry, I – I don’t know – I – “ He grabbed his clothes.
“It’s not that!” Rack said. “It’s not that.”
Dan shook his head, fighting back angry tears. What was he thinking? “No, I – I didn’t mean it.”
“You’re lying.”
“Stop it!” Dan yelled, and ran around Rack to the door of the barn. He went to the back of the house, to the troughs, all around the barn.
“Dan,” called Rack, as he stood at the porch. He had his shirt off again. Dan felt his cock twitch. “Bathtub’s in here. I got it all ready for you.”
Dan trudged up the stairs. His face was burning. “I’m sorry about that.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” said Rack, as his hand reached out and picked up Dan’s chin, forcing him to look at him. “It’s me.” He looked down, deep into Dan’s light eyes, and he sighed heavily. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”
He let Dan’s chin go. “I have to get the cows. You take a bath. I’ll be right in.”
Rack went down the stairs, and Dan watched him go.