Courting Miss Hattie (47 page)
To Hattie's dismay, Reed nodded in agreement. "We'll just have to make sure the levee doesn't go." Turning from them, he headed for the back porch. "Just let me get my slicker, and we'll see what we can do."
As Hattie watched the two men disappear into the gray morning, rain pouring steadily down upon them, she couldn't shake the despondency that engulfed her. Reed had worked so hard for this rice field!
she
thought frantically. He couldn't lose it now.
* * *
It rained all that day, that night, and the next morning. Hattie spent virtually all of that time alone. Reed came home only to eat and sleep, tired to the point of exhaustion and chilled to the bone. Hattie fretted and prayed for a letup in the rain but never asked him to stay home. She knew how much the rice field meant to him.
By
a half
-dozen good-sized chunks of dry wood, and several pieces of kindling. A length of rope and an old tarp from the shed finished the load. Pulling on her slicker and hoisting her heavy burden, Hattie slowly made her way through the rain and mud to Colfax Bluff and her husband in the rice field.
It was a wet, cold, and miserable walk, but Hattie felt better than she had for two days. This was important to her husband, and she was going to help. She had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't appreciate it, but she wasn't about to let that stop her.
Arriving at the rice field, Hattie's first sensation was despair. The river was running wild and high, the swirling muddy water looking menacing and beyond control. The two men, with shovels and wheelbarrows of dirt, had set an immense task for themselves.
Hattie shook her head to clear it. Thinking defeat was no way to join the fight, she admonished herself. Carefully making her way down the side of the bluff, she found the perfect place for her camp between a
couple
of blackjack oaks.
She had hardly begun to sort out her things when she heard her husband's voice. "Hattie Colfax! What in the name of heaven are you doing out here!" She turned to see him hurrying up the incline toward her, anger in every movement.
"My name is
Tyler
, Plowboy," she shot back in the same belligerent tone. "This is
my
rice field, and I came here to do my part to keep it from becoming a fish pond."
He reached her then, and she stared at him, starved for the sight of him. His hat was missing, and his hair was plastered to his face. Water ran in rivulets down his cheeks and off the end of his nose. He looked worn-out and disgusted, and she felt a sudden urge to take him into her arms and comfort him.
Instead she braced her hands on her hips and stared him down like her worst enemy, unwilling to let him use her tender
feelings against her. "I've got work to do here. I don't know a whole lot about reinforcing a levee, but I can sure provide a hot meal for those who do."
They scowled at each other for a minute, the rain beating down on them. Hattie waited for his reply, poised for more argument. With a sigh of defeat, though, Reed shook his head. "You want this tarp up?" he asked.
Without waiting for an answer, he turned and called to Harm to come help him. The two men hung the tarp between the trees as Hattie retrieved the dry wood and kindling. Soon she had a small fire going under the canvas. Reed cut a long green limb from a nearby elm and wedged it like a pole in the middle of the tarp, forming a pitch to keep the rain from collecting.
By the time the men had their temporary shelter set up to their liking, Hattie had the stew bubbling hot on the fire and insisted that they sit, rest, and eat. She didn't have to ask twice. Both men nearly collapsed on the soggy ground, eager for the hot meal but almost too tired to consume it.
Reed scooted over
beside
her, sitting just close enough to touch her thigh with his knee. The contact seemed to give him some kind of strength or pleasure, so Hattie leaned closer, increasing the contact.
Neither man had much to say, and
Hattie didn't urge them to talk. She understood that there were times when it was better not to speak fears aloud. Her heart was in her throat as she watched Reed continually turn to glance once more at the river that was rising steadily to consume the fruits of his labor.
Wanting to take him in her arms and comfort him, love him, she sat quietly beside him until, with a sigh of determination, he planted a tiny peck on her nose and headed back down the bluff to fight his watery enemy.
It was late in the afternoon when Hattie finally returned to the house. An old buckboard with a jury-rigged cover sat in the yard, and she quickened her step to meet her company.
"Miss Hattie?" a man called from her porch. "Where in the world
is
everybody in this rain?"
The man waiting for her was a stranger. In his middle years, he had the sun-browned face and neck and sturdy arms and chest of a farmer. As she came closer, the handsome
Tyler
visage was easily discernable. "You must be Reed's uncle Ed," she said.
The man's smile was an open, familiar one. "That's who I am, Miss Hattie. I swear
I'da
known you anywhere. I came over to have a talk with that boy. Where's he
got
himself off to in this weather?"
Hattie stepped past her visitor and opened the door. Discarding her slicker, she urged Uncle Ed to do the same. "Reed and Harmon are at the rice field. The river is very high and they're trying to reinforce the levee."
It was impossible to miss Uncle Ed's surprised expression, and Hattie hurriedly explained. "Our rice field sets right next to the river, and it's been very high for the last couple of weeks, and now this much rain…"
Uncle Ed's smile became strained.
"You did know about the river?" Hattie asked as she led him into the kitchen.
"Sure I knew about the river," he answered, sitting at the table as she put on some coffee. "It's been flooding upstream for a couple of weeks. I almost didn't make the trip at all 'cause I figured Reed had already lost that field."
Uncle Ed scooted his chair back from the table and crossed his legs in a relaxed position. "Truthfully, I came over to tell him we'd just be heading back."
"Oh, you can't do that!" Hattie said. "The rain is bound to stop any minute, and the fields will dry up in a day or two. The rice is beautiful, so tall and heavy. It's the most beautiful crop I've ever seen. You can't just let it go!"
Uncle Ed ran a hand through his heavy thatch of silver hair. "Now, ma'am. I know this rice means a lot to you. That's all that Reed talked about when he was with me—growing rice right here on Miss Hattie's farm. But farming is not a sure-thing business. It's a gamble with nature that never ends. Bad years come along—floods, droughts, plagues—and you just have to take your licks and try again next year."
Knowing his words about farming were the truth, Hattie didn't comment on them. The risks of farming were a part of life that she'd accepted long ago. She'd seen lifetimes of plans wiped away by the hand of God. But something in the first part of his statement captured her attention, and she quickly corrected him. "The rice means a lot to
Reed.
I only want it because he wants it."
Raising an eyebrow skeptically, Uncle Ed took a long look at the woman Reed had married. Finally he decided to trust her. "Reed can grow rice anywhere, Miss Hattie. I've tried a half a dozen times to get him to buy good rice land down near me."
When Hattie's eyes widened in surprise, Ed continued. "It don't matter how good the deal or how much I try to sweeten it, that boy's been determined from that first summer he came to work for me that the two of you were going to grow rice."
"The two of us?" Hattie's asked in confusion.
"Yes, ma'am. After you all did that first cotton crop together, he was convinced you were the best farming partner anywhere." Uncle Ed smiled as if recalling a spark of humor from the past. "He talked night and day about that crop. You made a real impression on the boy. Still bowed down in grief and with the responsibility of your mama, you just dove right into what had to be done. And you turned to him for help. He was little more than a kid, but his opinions held value for you, and that made him feel grown-up." Laughing lightly, he added, "I guess it was more than feeling. That summer he really did grow up."
Noting his nephew's wife's stunned
expression,
Ed leaned an elbow on the table and continued his tale. "When Reed decided that rice was a better crop for the future, he just became downright determined to bring it up to this prairie. That was the only way you two could farm it together."
Hattie stared at Reed's uncle in stunned disbelief. "Are you telling me that Reed could have had land elsewhere? He didn't need Colfax Farm?"
"Miss Hattie, I'd never say one unkind word about your daddy's ground. It's fine land. But it'll take a heap of time, work, and money to turn it into rice country. I'm sure you and Reed are up to the task, but there is plenty of better, easier rice land all over this part of the state to be had for less than this piece of cotton was going to cost him."
"I'm sure if Reed stayed here at Colfax Farm, he had his reasons," Hattie said.
The older man smiled. "Yes, ma'am, and the main one is sitting across the table from me right now. My biggest worry was that the boy wouldn't grow up fast enough to be able to see that he already had exactly what he wanted."
"But why
…?"
Uncle Ed laughed. "I told you why. There's plenty of other good land in this state, but none with you sitting on it."
Confusion stymied Hattie, making it impossible for her to reason out Uncle Ed's words. The smell of coffee pervaded the
room, and she poured them both a cup. After setting a plate of
cookies on the table, she sat down and took a sip of the hot black coffee to settle her nerves. Questions were bombarding her brain, but she couldn't seem to get a handle on any of them.
Uncle Ed didn't need urging to speak. He dipped one of the cookies into his coffee and said, "I've known Reed a lot of years. He's almost like one of my own boys." Ed stopped and took a hefty bite of cookie before he continued. "Since I've been here, I've heard a lot of talk about what a surprise your wedding has been." He leaned back in his chair and eyed her across the table. "The truth is, it weren't no surprise to me, ma'am. That other gal, well, I don't even remember hearing her name from him. But everything that happened, everything that he did or saw, he'd say, 'Wish Miss Hattie could see that' or 'Wonder what Miss Hattie would think of this.' A blind man could see that he had his heart set on pairing up with you."
Hattie felt a blush of embarrassment stain her cheeks. Surely Uncle Ed was mistaken, or perhaps he was just being kind. "Reed's feelings for me have never been more than friendship," she said.
Uncle Ed shrugged. "I suspect he wasn't even aware of how he felt. You're an older woman, after all. I doubt it ever occurred to him to think of you like a sweetheart. Sweethearts are what we have as schoolboys. It takes a lot of years for a man to realize that wives are a different crop altogether."
Hattie analyzed that statement. "Oh, I see what you mean. A man should marry for practical reasons rather than some silly romantic notion."
Uncle Ed shook his head, indicating that she had missed the point. "A man learns to let his silly romantic notions follow his heart."
Unwilling
to
believe what he was telling her, Hattie quickly sorted out the facts and the evidence. Why would Reed have thrown away good opportunities elsewhere just to stay a sharecropper on Colfax Farm?
Hattie was sure he'd been in love with Bessie Jane, but he
had
gotten over her pretty quick, and she remembered Bessie Jane's complaint about the delay in their wedding. He hadn't been willing to leave with his intended until he'd brought in Hattie's rice crop. Could Uncle Ed be right? Could Reed's feel
ing for her be more than a friend's? Were his reactions more those of a lover?
Hope and excitement bubbled brightly in Hattie's heart, but she consciously forced them back down. Reed liked and cared for her; he was gentle and tender with her and so conscientious
in
bed. She would not wish for or covet more. Her mother's bitterness and dissatisfaction were never going to color her life. She would be happy with what fate had handed her, not stew in dissatisfaction for those things she would never have.
"Uncle Ed, I'm sure that you believe what you're saying, and I see no sense in arguing with you." She smiled. "I think Reed and I are going to be happy together.
"However," she added, raising her chin with a hint of challenge, "the problem right now is not marital bliss, but flooded rice. That's where we're going to need your help."
* * *
The next morning, hours before sunup, it was still raining steadily as Hattie loaded the wagon. She hadn't slept much, but she felt energy surging through her.
"Hattie! What in the blazes are you up to?" Reed called to her from the back porch. He stood shirtless, his trousers riding low on his hips, his suspenders lying purposeless at his thighs.
