The Pact

A single bead of sweat crept from beneath the band of Little Joe's hat, burrowing through caked-on dirt until it worked itself down into a muddy afterthought. The young man rubbed the back of his grimy hand against his cheek, smearing the streak and wiping away bits of dry earth. He squinted up at the sun while he pushed the heavy plough behind the family's old, tired draft horse. The remains of weeds and old crop lay in the furrows behind him. Little Joe could see his father in the distance. The old man was mending their fence after one of the sheep got tangled in it. There'd be fresh mutton if the dumb animal didn't survive.

Little Joe removed his wide brimmed hat to scratch at his black, wavy hair. He fanned himself and wished for the hundredth time that a breeze, any kind of breeze, would come by and cool him off. He eyed the wide blue sky but the one tiny white cloud far off in the distance gave no hope for shade and his father would have his hide if he ran off to rest under one of their apple trees. Tree lined mountains surrounded the small world he lived in and, again for the hundredth time, he told himself he'd make it to those mountains and keep walking. Some day. For now his bare feet dug into the fresh turned earth and provided him his only comfort in the sweltering heat.

"Saint Fran-swaur," Little Joe whispered. He'd stopped his learning a long time ago but he could remember Miss Pastern in her thick dress and hair pulled back. Her with her stick, tapping on an old sheet of paper and trying to teach the packed room about their local geography. Little Joe remembered little of what he was supposed to have learned but he always remembered the name of the mountain range nearby. "Saint Fran-swaur," he repeated, as if saying the very words would carry him away from his home.

A tug at the plough reminded Little Joe of what he was doing and he wiped the memories away as easily as he'd wiped his sweat. The morning wore on with little more than the wooden and leather creak of the plough and the occasional cry of a bird far above. His father was out of sight, working further down their property. Little Joe heard the rustling of the apple trees moments before a sweet breeze swept around him. He turned to look for his sister at the orchard but he only saw her old wooden, half-filled basket. "What the... Whoa! Whoa, there!"

It took a moment to fumble with the straps before the young man was able to get his harness off. Little Joe hung it on the plough and patted the horses' flank as he passed. Another rush of wind ruffled the trees and tall grass and the overalls he was wearing - his father's old pair, mended by his mother to fit him. Also with it, a snatch of a laugh from beyond the trees. Little Joe walked through the grass and under the small trees until he reached the family's weathered red barn. He could hear a light conversation as he reached the back corner. Looking around the edge, he spied Lily, his sister, standing face to face with James Tolbert - John Tolbert's oldest boy from two farms away. He was dressed in his work clothes with a faint red to his cheeks and sweat covering his brow. His sandy blond hair nearly brushed his eyebrows. He was tall and lanky and well loved by all the girls in the area. Little Joe grit his teeth and nearly stood to call them out. He stopped when James bent down to lift the hem of Lily's dress. The other man's hand vanished beneath the fabric and Lily gasped and laughed and bit her lower lip.

"I... ohhh... I have to get back to the apples, Jamie. Oh. Oh, not there. Don't... oh." Lily's hips rocked slightly and she leaned against the other man. James had his arm around her back and the woman's dress was up to her waist. Little Joe felt a stir in his drawers as he watched James kiss Lily's neck. He rubbed himself as the two lovers kissed. James' deft, feminine hands quickly undid the laces at the front of Lily's dress and she shrugged her left shoulder, exposing her small breast. Little Joe had seen his sister naked years before and thought nothing of it but now, watching the two of them together, his hand quickened its pace in excitement. He watched Lily's nipple vanish into James' mouth and listened to the way she moaned when he pushed her hard against the side of the barn. The overalls were rough against his manhood but he gripped himself hard through the fabric.

Lily tilted her head back. She had her dirty fingers in James' thick hair, twisting and twining her fingers as the man sucked at her. "Jamie. Ohhh, my beautiful boy. Kiss me down below, Jamie. Like before. Please." The man stood back and Little Joe saw how her fat nipple glistened in the sunlight. James knelt and lifted Lily's dress, easily exposing her slim lower body. A thick tangle of black hair hid away her woman parts but Little Joe almost caught a glance as his sister lifted her foot to place it on James' shoulder. The man leaned towards her hair down below and then stopped when Little Joe grunted. He felt his hot seed spurt against his belly and he couldn't hold the noise back against the sudden release.

Without looking back to see if the two lovers had noticed him, Little Joe ran as quickly as he could back to his plough. Their horse, Buster, stomped and dipped his head, snorting slightly at the folly of the young man. Little Joe muttered at himself as he felt the cold wetness in his overalls sticking to his bare lower body. He'd have to hide his deed by working with the pigs and "accidentally" getting some slop or water on his clothes. Better the water - mama would make him wash his own clothes if he came home in a stench.

Little Joe chanced a quick look over to the apple trees as he turned the plough for a new row. Lily was walking back from the barn and he knew the red in her cheeks wasn't from the sun overhead. She nearly fell over on shaky legs when she moved her basket to the next tree and Little Joe felt a quick pang of guilt when he pictured her with her dress up again. He cursed himself and leaned back into his harness to slow Buster. "Steady. Steady on there."

When time came to feed the pigs, Little Joe had no need to fake an accident - one of the younger excitable pigs knocked over the feed trough while he was filling it. He had to near fight the pigs off to right the wooden structure. He cursed and kicked at the crazed little animals and they simply ignored him and pushed forward. "Jus'... Jus' wait for me to..." One of the pigs slammed into legs and he fell to his knees in the muddy slop among the grunting and snorting pigs. Little Joe snarled and struck the animal's head, staggering it. "God damn you stupid little shits!" He yelled at them as the blood pounded in his ears. It maddened him how crazed they became at the simple idea of feeding. It was the same thing every time and he wanted to beat some sense into them when they did it. "It's jus' food, you dumb sons-a-bitches. You can control ya'self for one damn minute."

The sudden clang-clang of an old bell made him stand up. He looked over to the house to see mama ringing the bell for lunch. She rang it loudly a few more times for his father and the sound echoed across the field. Mama's sleeves were rolled back and a single hair had escaped her tight bun. Patches of sweat under her armpits made him thankful (for once) to be working outside. Lily made her way to the house with a full basket of apples and nary a hair out of place. His youngest sister, Annie, peeked from around mama's dress and grinned when she saw Little Joe walking over to the house.

"I don't know what you're thinking, young Joseph Kellerman," Mama called out. "I can smell you from over here and it ain't a good smell. You get yourself over to the stream and clean off before you even think about coming inside. And if you don't see your father coming home, you run out and fetch him and tell him his food is getting cold."

Little Joe sighed and turned to the right, walking across the tall grass as he made his way to the little stream near their house. He snatched his other pair of overalls from their clothesline, holding them away from his soiled clothes. He smelled of rotting vegetables, offal and sweat mixed with a faint whiff of pig. The young man spat to the ground beside him. "I bet James Tolbert never once smelled like pigs," he said, angrily. "Ain't no woman want to be with me but they flock to him like ... like pigs after slop." The mental image of James on his knees, arms wide and a horde of sows charging at him made Little Joe laugh and it was a mean sound.

The thigh deep water was freezing cold and Little Joe shook as he entered naked into the water. His clean clothes hung from the branches of a nearby oak tree while his dirty ones lay on the rocky bank. The young man's small frame shivered as he cleaned himself quickly. He turned to face downstream and then pulled the skin back from the head of his cock to make sure he cleaned every drop of his seed from his body. His manhood swelled, standing to meager attention. He'd played naked plenty of times as a child but the only adult he'd seen naked was his father and he swore his old man was bigger than him down there. A small part of him wish he'd seen James naked so he'd know once and for all whether he was as small as he feared he was.

The sun, previously harsh, now felt like the warm embrace of a lover as he dried himself off on the edge of the water. It only took a few dredges through the river to get most of the slop off of his old clothes and, by the time he was done, he was completely dry.

"Joe!" Little Joe's father's voice rang out loud and clear. "We waitin' on you, son! Hurry up, boy!"

Joe dressed quickly and ran back to the house, only stopping to wipe his feet outside the front door. His father, mother and two sisters were already seated and waiting for him. Their long, slightly warped old wood table dominated the tiny dining room. A small bowl of congealed butter was placed next to a loaf of fresh baked bread and the house was filled with the smell of it. A bowl of thick brown stew lay in front of everyone.

"Hurry and sit so we can say grace," his father told him. I need to get back to the fence before I let the sheep out." Traces of dirt lined the wrinkles of his father's face. Stubborn bits that rebuffed a simple washing. The older man was squat and weathered by long days outside and his fingernails seemed permanently stained brown. Little Joe sat and his father nodded. "Mother, will you say grace this time?"

Their mother, stray hair rescued and back in place, nodded in return. "Annie, sit still or you'll have no food. Dear Lord, we thank you for the food at our table. We thank you for the bountiful crops and healthy animals and healthy children. Please look favorably upon us as we continue to work in your name. Amen."

Everyone else bowed their heads more deeply and intoned "Amen" before unclasping their hands. Little Joe eagerly dug into his stew and he scooped up chunks of potato and carrots with thick pieces of bread. Their Australian Shepherd, Lucy, lay on the floor behind Annie. The dog waited patiently as always for the child to drop crumbs.

In a pause between bites, the elder Joseph spoke up. "The pastor stopped by while I was out mendin'. Carl Spitzer's boy has the Scarlet Fever. They're bringing him into town but it don't look good." Mama tsk'ed at the news and shook her head sadly. "An' his daughter's been coughing so they're lookin' after her, too. I don't want nobody going over to their farm until it's all done." The old man swabbed his bowl with a small piece of bread and then swallowed the bite. "And him just finding that load of gold on his property. The Lord giveth... I'll be on the east side of the field if anyone needs me." The man turned to his son and continued. "I'll find you when I'm done. I still need help fixin' the barn roof."

Little Joe bowed his head. "Yes, sir." When the old man left, the young man looked up. "Mama, y'all said I could go to the fair tonight if I finished all my chores. I won't have time if I fix the roof tonight!"

"I'll talk to your father but you know how he is. Now, I suggest you get back to those chores, young man. If you want even a chance of going out tonight." His mother fixed Little Joe with a hard stare until he went back to his bowl of stew. The young man finished his food in minutes and then left at a run.

The day progressed and the sun lay fat and red on the horizon before the elder Joseph found his son. Little Joe briefly considered mentioning the fair again to his father but he knew that the old man would simply say 'no' and that would be the end of that. For any chance, he'd have to pray that his mother would still talk to the man. But, as the evening progressed and the sun sunk lower on the horizon, his hopes dwindled.

When his mother appeared at the barn doors, yelling for his father's attention, Little Joe felt a spark of hope. His father huffed down the large ladder from the loft and then out of the barn. The young man heard nothing beyond tones and parts of words but he held his breath. His father came back into the barn and up the ladder This would be the last night he'd have a chance to see the fair before it closed down for the summer. His father glanced at him and then picked his hammer back up. "Go on downstairs and talk to your mother. I'm done with you tonight. And you best give her your thanks, boy."

"Yes, sir!" Little Joe yelled. He flew down the ladder and out into the cool night air. A few stars twinkled above him as the sun faded to a deep orange on the horizon. He found his mother and she cocked her eyebrow at him as he tried to gasp his thanks in-between breaths. Her face softened into a smile and she took his hand, opening it to drop a few coins into his palm. Little Joe looked at the nickels in surprise. He had a little bit saved up and his family wasn't well off; he hadn't expected any extra money. "Aww, thank you, mama!"

"No," she told him. "Thank your father. This was from him. Now get on out of here before you miss it."

The thought of his father giving him spending money was completely foreign to him; he hadn't even expected his father to allow him to go. Little Joe hugged his mother and then left as she hollered out "And don't you be stayin' out too late!"

The fair lay at the edge of their little town and it was a thirty-five minute walk from the family's farm. The young man alternated between running and walking so he'd be there quickly enough without worrying about being soaked in sweat. Finally, as he crested a small hill, the distant sounds of the fair turned into lively music and laughter and loud conversations.

Little Joe stared in amazement as he walked down the gentle slope to the grounds below. The warm summer wind brought smells of roasted meat, pies and other foods to his nose and he felt his stomach rumble in response. Loud voices called out to describe the various wares on display while others spoke in moderated whispers of the wonders behind the curtains of their stall. The young man walked around a large group of farmers standing in front of a simple table. The man behind the table wore a simple brown suit with a black bowtie.

"The Winner is named so for a reason, gentlemen!" The fox-faced salesman cried out. "Glidden's design is simple, cheap and, most importantly effective! Your cows or sheep or goats may try to break through a fence made of this fabulous material but only once! The barbs are not sharp enough to cause permanent damage but they hurt enough that even a dumb animal will shy away a second time!"

Little Joe glanced at what the man was selling. Metal wire looked to be twisted upon itself to create little spikes along the length of the line. You put that with the fence? Little Joe wondered. Oristhat the fence? Good Lord, our fool sheep would get stuck in that and kill themselves. Still, the young man made a note to mention it to his father as a possibility. Rough farmers in the overalls shot questions at the salesman as Little Joe walked away.

The young man wandered the fair in a daze. Some locals brought their food and he bought a turkey leg to gnaw on while he looked at the exhibits. Folks blew fire from their mouths or swallowed swords while others simply talked of events beyond their small town. Little Joe stood rapt as he listened to talks of the Comanche and their fearlessness in battle. Women and men gasped in horror at tales of scalps being taken or, worse, women hauled off from small outposts after their menfolk and children were slaughtered. He listened to news from outside for the longest and his yearning to see the world only increased.

At another demonstration, a faint electric glow filled two connected glass tubes while the salesman furiously cranked a handle. The small crowd surrounding the equipment watched in silence as the man rambled about electricity and vacuums and other things they'd never heard in their entire lives. Little Joe snorted at the useless little light but then stopped when he caught a glimpse of Susan Talbot. The young man fairly lusted after Susan and the yellow dress she wore only made his blood boil even hotter. The heat, constant buzz of the crowd and the thrill of the fair itself made him bold and the young man swaggered over to stand before the woman.

"Hello, Susan," Little Joe said with a smile.

Susan Talbot turned to look at Little Joe and she glanced at the man from head to toe. "Little Joe," she replied. "I didn't think your daddy would let you out to the fair. I heard from Jim Witt that y'all were working on your barn."

"Well," Little Joe answered, his cheeks burning in embarrassment. "Jim Witt don't know everything now, do he?"

"It's 'does', Little Joe. 'Does he' is how you say it. You'd have learned that if you'd stayed at school."

"I don't give a damn how-!" Little Joe swallowed his sudden anger. "Listen, I didn't come over here to argue with you."

"What did you come over here for, Little Joe?" The woman asked, defiance in her eyes.

Little Joe reached for the young woman and she stepped back lightly. The man's cheeks burned an uglier red when he answered her. Almost he didn't answer her but he felt drunk from the energy of the evening. "I think you're real pretty, Susan. I thought I might see if you wanted a kiss from a real man."

Susan's laugh was sudden and loud enough that several people turned their heads to look. Her speech slipped to a simpler form as she berated the man. "From you, Little Joe? Oh Lordy. You ain't all that, Little Joe. Coming over here, talkin' 'bout bein' a man and wantin' a kiss for nothin' mor'n that. You smell like pig shit and you got grease smeared all over yo' mouth. You best leave before-"

A large figure suddenly loomed behind Susan. "Little Joe," the figure rumbled. "You troublin' my sister?"

Red quickly turned to pale white on Little Joe's cheeks. Susan Talbot's older brother stood nearly a foot taller than he was and double his width. "N... naw, Ben. We was jus' talking. Ain't that right, Susan?"

The woman stared harshly at Little Joe. "Yeah. We were just talking, Ben. Little Joe was telling me something awful funny."

Slow thoughts formed in Ben Talbot's head as the sarcasm completely passed him by. "I think you should get on home now, Little Joe. Help yo' mama tuck in your sisters and then tuck yo'self in. Gettin' late."

For a brief moment, Little Joe considered lashing out. And then, his bravado failed and his shoulders slumped. "Aw, I was jus' leaving anyway. This place ain't so fine as that." The young man turned and left. Looking into the sky, he saw how the moon sat and his mother's warning about time came back to him. Little Joe looked down the path to his home. After a quick decision, he turned and ran.

The young man was furious at Susan and his anger settled deep in his heart. Anger at his situation and anger at the woman for reminding him of it. Thoughts of hurting her tumbled through his mind and so he didn't notice when he was suddenly in an unfamiliar area. A small, neatly made cabin sat within a cleared-out part of the forest between two properties - his family and the Spitzer family. Trace amounts of white smoke spiraled out of the chimney at the front of the house. Bright light shined around the black curtains covering the few small windows. Had there always been a house here?Little Joe wondered. I've been all over these woods and never saw it.