The Hard Land-Part 11
A story of love and survival
Much of the labor for the grain harvest in the spread-out farming community was shared. There were a few workers like Thomas who were hired by Harry Nash for the entire harvest season, but nearly all the farmers, like Frank and Earl, exchanged labor for help with their own harvest. After weeks of work, it was time for Frank and Earl to receive the communal benefit.
“Stop!” Earl shouted as Frank drove the binder he borrowed from Sam Benson toward the gate.
Frank tugged on the reins. “Whoa!”
The four-horse team came to a halt with the cutter bar of the binder just inches from the gate post.
“We’re going to have to put the binder in travel position or remove the fence post,” Earl said.
“It’ll be better to change the binder,” Frank said. “We have three more gates to go through before we reach the field.”
Frank unhitched the team and drove them forward then returned to the machine. The two men put their shoulders against the cutting platform and shifted it over the tongue. With the cutting platform in position, Frank lowered the transport wheels.
“That should do it,” Frank said. He backed the team to the tongue and hitched the team to the binder.
“Wait,” Earl said. “We need the third transport wheel. I’ll ride back up to Sam’s barn and pick it up.”
“You’ll have to borrow Sam’s wagon to bring it down.”
Earl mounted his horse and rode toward Sam’s barn, while Frank gave some oats to the team.
Earl returned with Sam following in the wagon.
“I thought it would fit through the gate,” Sam said. “We could have changed it to the transport configuration easier in the yard.”
Earl pulled the heavy iron transport wheel from the wagon and rolled it up behind the binder. The three men jostled the binder enough for the wheel to fit under the back of the machine.
“I brought the spare cutting knife,” Sam said. “With the rocks in this field, you’ll probably need it.”
“I had Henry and Charlotte help me carry the rocks to the edge of the field,” Frank said.
“I saw you working at it, but I think you’ll need it anyway.”
Once they reached the field, Frank unhitched the team and he, Earl, and Sam hefted the cutting platform off the tongue and slid it into place. While Earl cranked the two transport wheels clear of the ground, Frank removed the rear transport wheel and rolled it to Sam’s wagon.
The three men lifted the transport wheel into the wagon, and Sam climbed onto the seat
Earl brought the team around to the tongue and backed the horses up. He hooked the horses back to the single tree.
Frank dropped the four-foot bull wheel to contact the ground and climbed onto the seat behind the horse-drawn binder and coaxed the team forward. The bull wheel turned against the ground, driving all the parts of the machine.
As the wooden slats of the reel dipped into the sea of wheat, long golden stalks toppled over the cutting bar onto the canvas conveyor. Hardwood cross members stiffened the canvas and gave traction to the stems holding the plump heads of wheat as they rode the series of conveyors through the machine and up to the mechanism that bunched the stalks and bound them with twine.
A hundred feet down the field, Frank noticed a streak of uncut wheat emerge from beneath the cutter bar. He stopped the team and walked around to the front of the binder. A section was broken from the cutter bar by a rock.
Sam strode across the stubble, a cutter knife slung over his shoulder. “I told you that a spare knife would come in handy.”
“I didn’t think it would be this soon,” Frank said.
Frank and Sam removed the knife and replaced it with the spare.
“I’ll fix that,” Sam said, taking the damaged cutter bar from Frank. “I’ve got the parts in the wagon.”
With the binder repaired, Frank climbed back onto the seat and lifted the header a few inches higher.
As the binder moved through the field, the bound bunches dropped to the ground to the right side of the machine.
While Frank cut grain, several neighboring farmers and their teenage sons arrived to help Earl and Sam gather the bundles into shocks of six bundles resembling tepees.
By evening the field was cut, and shocks of grain stood like sentinels throughout the field.
Frank looked up into a cloudless sky, hoping that it would stay that way until the shocked grain was sufficiently dry and the threshing crew arrived.
Frank was relieved when Harry Nash’s steam tractor lumbered into the yard with the threshing machine in tow. It took all afternoon for Harry’s crew to set up the thresher to the west of the barn.
“We’re ready to go tomorrow as soon as the dew’s off,” Harry told Frank and Earl.
“We’ll have a crew here about nine in the morning,” Frank said.
The morning dawned warm and clear. By nine o’clock the yard was teeming with neighboring farmers and their sons who had come to help.
Frank already had the team hitched to his wagon and led the way as four other wagons followed him into the field. The men and older boys pitched bundles onto the wagons. The younger boys climbed onto the wagons and placed the bundles into a neat stack.
Frank’s wagon was the first one full, and he drove the team from the field and pulled alongside the infeed of the threshing machine.
Thomas had already filled the grease pots, and Harry had the steam engine running. The long flat belt wrapped around the turning flywheel of the steam engine and the drive pulley on the threshing machine powering the thresher. The lacing that held the belt into a continuous loop speeding by was the only sign the belt was moving.
As Thomas and Mark pitched bundles onto the infeed of the threshing machine, the shocks disappeared inside, and straw blew out the other end into a pile. The kernels of wheat poured down a chute that split into two legs. At the end of each leg of the chute, a burlap bag was hooked to cleats.
As the first bag filled, Sam Benson flipped a gate and diverted the flow of wheat into the second bag attached to the other side of the chute. While Sam expertly closed the bag with a needle and string, the second man filled his bag, then sewed it closed. The process was repeated over and over until a stack of burlap bags built up on the ground.
Earl pulled a wagon up to the stacked bags, and two young men tossed the filled bags into the wagon. When the wagon was full, the young men climbed into the wagon and Earl drove it to the granary where they unloaded the wheat.
The repetition of each task dulled the enthusiasm of the morning, and the workers eagerly left their posts when the dinner whistle blew at one in the afternoon.
The crew of men and boys gathered in the shade on the east side of the barn where tables filled with mashed potatoes, roast beef, and fried chicken beckoned them. Pitchers of water and lemonade sat among the plates of food and baskets of homemade bread atop gingham tablecloths.
Anna and Matilda led a group of women and girls from surrounding farms in serving the meal and ensuring that everyone had plenty to eat and drink.
By now, Thomas was a seasoned worker and he had eaten meals at least a half dozen farms. If the meal was a contest, like Earl said, Anna was looking like a potential winner. He pushed away from the table with his empty plate in his hand.
“I’ll take that,” a girl said, reaching for the plate and brushing the back of his hand.
Thomas stared into her blue eyes. “You’re Amanda Nash, aren’t you?” Her brown hair was braided, and she wore a white bonnet. This was the girl he’d seen in Franklin weeks ago. She was even prettier up close.
“Yes. How did you know?” Amanda dipped her head demurely and tucked a loose strand of hair into her bonnet with her free hand.
“I’ve seen you a time or two. I’m Thomas Jolley.”
Amanda smiled. “You’re one of my father’s hired men.”
“I am,” Thomas said. “I hope you won’t hold that against me.”
“Why would I? Papa says you are one of his best workers.”
Thomas blushed at the compliment. “If you help with the meals, why haven’t I seen you serving before?”
“I only help when the crew is close to home. I don’t travel all over like Papa does.”
“Then you live near here?” Thomas thought he knew the nearby neighbors.
“Well, kind of.” She pointed across Sugar Creek. “Our farm is just beyond that point there on Rocky Hill.”
Thomas reluctantly tore his eyes away from her face and looked in the direction she was pointing. As the crow flies it was not far, but if you followed the winding road down to Sugar Creek and then up the hill on the opposite side, it was several miles.
“I saw you in Franklin, the day I came,” Thomas said. Heat rushed to his cheeks, wondering if she remembered how he’d gawked.
“The last time I was in Franklin was when Papa had to pick up some parts for the thresher. They came in on the freight wagon from Cache Junction.”
“Small world,” said Thomas. “Those parts probably were on the same train as me.”
“Amanda, we need to get those plates washed,” a woman called.
Amanda looked down at the plates in her hand like she had forgotten they were there. “I better get these taken care of.” She turned and walked toward where the women were cleaning up after the meal.
Thomas watched her walk away. A smile spread across his face when she turned and looked over her shoulder. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a whistle. He had to get back to work.
After Earl ate, he grabbed another plate and a glass of lemonade and headed for the cabin. He tapped at the front door with the toe of his boot and Elizabeth opened the door. He sat the plate on the table. “Do you feel up to eating?”
“It sure looks good. I think I can eat a little.” She took a sip of the lemonade and then started on a chicken leg. She took a couple of bites and put the drumstick back on the plate. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help fix the meal.”
“Everyone understands,” he said.
“Sometimes I feel useless. Anna and the other women are working so hard, and I am just laying around the house.”
“You’ll get feeling better soon.”
“I hope so, but by then I will be too big to do anything.”
Earl took her hands and looked into her eyes. “I don’t think you will ever be too big.”
“Thank you for saying that, but you may change your mind in a few months.”
He released her hands and slid the lemonade toward her.
She took the glass and had a long drink. “That tastes good.” She picked up the drumstick and nibbled at it before setting it back down.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” Earl said. “Why don’t you lie down? I’ll leave this plate here in case you want to eat something later.” He kissed her gently and left.
By seven o’clock the crew was shutting down the equipment. Another couple of days would finish Jolley’s wheat harvest and the crew would move on to another farm.
Thomas was glad that there was no horseback ride after work. As the other workers left, he wandered down to the small pond below the spring. He looked around to make sure that he was alone and moved behind the willow tree. Stripping off his clothes, he dashed for the pond. The chilly water only came to his waist, so he crouched down and let the water cover him completely. For the first time in days, he felt free of the chaff that had become his constant summer companion.
Thomas popped his head out of the water. A sound to his left caught his attention. He turned toward the source.
Charlotte and Henry were trying to catch frogs at the edge of the pond, but Patch was diving in and out of the water scaring off the prey.
Thomas kept his head low to the water hoping that they would not see him, but Henry called out, “Hey, Uncle Thomas, what are you doing in the pond.”
“Just going for a swim.”
“Can we swim too?”
“No,” Thomas said. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. The water’s too cold.”
“If it’s too cold, why are you swimming?”
“Well, actually I’m taking a bath.”
“Oh!” Charlotte said. “Come on Henry we need to go.”
“Why?” Henry asked.
“Just because. Let’s go.”
Thomas let his head slip underwater one more time, taking a final rinse. He waited until the children were gone before he climbed out of the pond. Dressing quickly, he headed back to the house.
Thomas’s hair was still wet when he entered the house.
Frank looked up from the kitchen table but said nothing.
Anna handed him a towel but was equally silent.
Had the kids said something? Thomas would never know because his evening bath in the pond was not once mentioned in his presence.
