Disclaimer:
This story involves violence, death, native Americans, religion, profanity, and incest. I don't wish to offend, this is purely a work of fiction. All characters involved in sexual relationships are over 18.
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Jones Farm Savages
2. The Death of a Patriarch
In the afternoon the sun was still high in the sky and Bethany's wide-brimmed hat almost covered her eyes. Between her lips was a blade of grass, which she moved quickly from one side to the other. Her clothes were functional and the fact that she wore trousers led many people to believe that she was a man. But she was a hard working and strong woman, who took care of her family. And now, with her father fallen ill, she had taken on more responsibilities than ever before. And today she was working on the fence.
Just as she had sunk a post deep into the ground she looked up and saw her sister Rachel walk towards her. Finally lunch had arrived.
Bethany removed the heavy leather gloves from her hands, leaned against the post and watched Rachel come closer. Rachel was her younger sister and nobody would mistake her for a man. Her long brown hair was covered with a white bonnet and her grayish dress, though simple in form, could not conceal her curvy body.
"There you are," Bethany shouted.
Rachel blushed, she was late.
"I am sorry, i had to help Lily," Rachel said now standing in front of her older sister.
In her hands she carried a basket with food and a jug of water. Bethany reached for the water and greedily gulped down almost a third of it.
"Put it down" she said to her sister, looking at the basket.
She watched Rachel bend over and just as she came up again, she grabbed her sisters neck, pulled her close and pressed her lips hard against Rachel's. At first Rachel resisted and her mouth was closed. But soon she could not prevent the inevitable anymore and Bethany's insisting tongue opened her and slipped inside. For a minute Rachel's mouth was penetrated by Bethany's forceful tongue. Still holding her at the neck, Bethany then ended the kiss.
"You don't keep me waiting," she said in Rachel's ear. "Is that clear?"
Rachel nodded, her eyes fixed to the ground. Bethany smiled, her grip became softer. She kissed her again. This time the kiss was gentle and as Rachel began to respond, Bethany stopped and stepped back.
"I'm hungry," she said.
-
Although James had left the family farm almost eight years ago, the way through the forest up to the plateau had not changed. It was a trail, more a suggestion of a path. The beginning was hard to find and so was the end. But James had lived more than twenty years on the farm, every rock and every tree seemed familiar. And so he led his little band of travelers with ease directly to the gate of the Jones farm. When he saw the gate, he stopped his horse for a moment. The gate consisted of two high posts, with a crossbar on top. It served only as demarcation, there was no fence.
"Something wrong?" asked Kimeya.
"No," he answered. "A long time ago, Adam and I built this gate."
As Tama touched it to connect with Adams legacy, the gate began to wobble and the crossbar almost came down. James laughed at Tama's bewildered look.
"Yeah, i guess it needs work," he said.
With that, he spurred his horse. Kimeya and Tama followed, leading the other horses. After a while, they saw a barbed wire fence to their right, but no animals. They followed the fence and then they saw a small house in the distance to their left. James had not seen it before, he wondered who lived there. He ignored it and soon he saw a man working the fence, or so he thought.
"Hey there!" he called.
Bethany, who had been lost in her work, turned around and looked up. On the other side of the fence was a strange group of travelers, a cavalry man and two native woman. They had horses, loaded with bundles of unknown composition. The cavalry man tipped his hat.
"Good evening Mister," he said.
"Good evening," she responded automatically.
She put down her tools and looked James firm in the eyes. Suddenly her face became soft.
"James?" she asked. "Is that you?"
And before he could say anything, she said, "It's me, Bethany."
For a moment James didn't say anything, then he dismounted his horse in a swift motion and came close to the fence. His sister had changed, the last time he had seen her she was a girl in prudish clothes and now before him was a woman dressed as a man.
"Little Beth," he smiled.
"It's Bethany now," she answered.
"How is father?"
"Not good," she said. "He can't leave the bed."
James nodded, he was not too late. Then Bethany looked at the two native woman, who had kept their distance.
"Adam?" she asked.
"He died," he said quietly.
For a moment James thought his sister could not handle it, but Bethany turned around and began to collect her tools.
"It's good to see you," she said. "Let's not keep him waiting."
During the short ride to the central farmstead, Bethany and James talked about the latest developments on the farm. The house he had seen on the way belonged to Jesse and Abigail, the oldest of the Jones sisters. She had married Jesse and born him a son, the three year old Nathan.
The Jones now grew potatoes, corn and vegetables and kept chickens. Prices had dropped for most of the crops, it was hard to make money. The life on the farm was tough, they sold most of their cattle to buy basic goods like barbed wire, fertilizer and cloth. And Bethany did not conceal her contempt at her fathers efforts to build a chapel, which had consumed a lot of their valuable resources.
James could see the bell tower of the chapel first and then the main building, the house in which he was born. The single-story home was smaller than he remembered, the color of the wooden planks had faded to a gray and the porch creaked as he stepped onto it. Then the door opened and his mother Ruth rushed to hold him in her arms, she began to cry. Behind her, a little shy at first, appeared Rachel and Lily.
Then Ruth became busy. Lily was ordered to help with the horses, Rachel was told to prepare some food and Ruth herself lead James to see his father. The room was dark, only a candle provided some light. His father was drawn by illness, his face wrinkled, the skin like wax.
"Peter, James is here" Ruth said.
She took a piece of cloth, soaked it in water and wetted his lips. Peter opened his eyes. For a moment James thought he saw in Peters face the stern and strong-minded person his father had been, but it was just a moment. All strength had left his fathers body, he was a shell of his former self. Peter put his hand searching in the air and James took it.
"I am here father" he said.
His father gripped his hand and began to speak. At first he could not understand him.
".. promise me," he finally understood, as he moved closer.
"What father, what should i promise?"
"Finish the chapel," his father said, "and save our family."
For a second James thought about Bethany, and her resentment for the chapel.
"Promise it," his father insisted.
"I promise," James said.
The grip around James hand became loose and his fathers head fell weakened back onto the pillow.
-
As James entered the common room the next morning he saw his mother sleep in her rocking chair. He woke her softly and told her that she was a widow now. He then stepped outside and leaned against one of the posts that carried the roof above the porch. The air was cold and the evaporating dew created a light mist over the green fields as he watched the sun rise above the tree line. In the house behind him, his family mourned the death of their patriarch.
"James?" Tama said gently as she stepped onto the porch.
From reality removed, he did not hear her. She stepped closer and as she touched his arm, he flinched. She could hear his family cry and she knew.