There was a cry from the kitchen and Mary stood quickly. “I have to go,” she said turning towards the kitchen. Not wanting to let her go without a final word but unable to think of anything I simply said, “Thanks for the food.”
After she left I finished the stew and tried to think of something to say to her when I returned the empty bowl to the kitchen from which still emanated the sounds of their work, but nothing worthwhile sprang to mind and the heat and amid the gloom of the room my mind thoughts dampened further and further until I fell into a fitful sleep. I would wake up choking on a snore but no sooner than I’d taken a breath I found myself asleep again. I finally awoke to the sound of boots on the porch and voices outside growing louder and more entangled as men and women crammed into the room and began filling the benches. My first inclination was to flee from their boisterous voices and jostling bodies, but I remained seated as they filed in. They glanced at me with faces red from a recent scrubbing, but their attention quickly turned away as they called for beer. The women and the men had come in together but seemed to separate into groups as they sat down. The men wore thick home woven clothes and the women wore the dresses of the camp, mostly in yellows and blues, with large white aprons tied around their waists. Men and women wore heavy boots dark with mud. The curtains were thrown back, and the room was cast in a pale evening light that angled in through the windows. A couple of women burst out of the kitchen carrying large tankards of a pale-yellow beverage, but to my disappointment Mary was not among them. One of them roughly sat a full glass down in front of me, the sour smelling liquid sloshing onto the table as she hurried off with her empty tray and an exasperated expression. Soon the table around me filled up with men draining their glasses with long gulps and wiping the foam from their faces as they gasped for breath. I sipped mine more slowly my lips curling at the grainy sour flavor.
The room suddenly quieted somewhat, and I looked around to see Dottie slipping in the doorway. She looked around the room with a disapproving expression as if taking mental notes, her face drawn up, her lips as tightly pressed together as her bun was wound up on the back of her head and then made her way over to me in small crisp steps.
“Here you are Eli,” she said in a tone suitable for children. “Benjamin has informed me that your talents are wasted as a mucker.” She sniffed. “I’m not so sure about these talents myself. You’re about what I’d expect at this point. Too antsy to be of any use. I heard about your little lapse and you’re lucky that I don’t kick you out of here this instance.” Everyone was quiet around us and I could feel their eyes on me. I flushed, thankful for my still unkempt beard. “Just remember that even Benjamin’s brother can’t get away with everything. If a man as great as Ol’ John can end up vampire fodder on the side of the road then you can easily. I’d remember that next time you get an itching in your feet. In any case your brother didn’t illuminate these talents of yours and if he gave you any task then he didn’t deign to inform me so your own harvest with these jokers. But let me make one thing clear. No one in this village is permitted to pinch food from the harvest and hoard it up for themselves.” She glared down at me as if she fully expected me to shove ears of corn into my pants. “Ryan here,” she gestured to the man who was sitting across from me, his attention seemingly absorbed by his beer. “He can show you the ropes. I expect to hear better things about you tomorrow.” She turned and walked away disappearing into the kitchen. I felt sorry for Mary if she was still working in the kitchen. I felt tension draining from my neck and shoulders as Dottie left and I took a gulp of my beer and then immediately started coughing. The talk around me started up again.
Before I’d finished coughing Ryan looked up at me and said in a deep booming voice. “Don’t worry, we all get on the wrong side of Dottie. Keeps things interesting.” He laughed and took a gulp of beer. He had a well-trimmed red beard that connected to his mustache and sideburns and hung down over his neck. He was one of the few men who didn’t wear a face full of stubble. “Harvesting ain’t nothing if you’re not afraid of doing a little work. I’m sure you’ll do better than Paul.”
The man sitting beside me chuckled and said, “This coming from the man who spends most of his time telling us what to do.”
Someone yelled, “His gut lets him get up the volume to do the job properly.”
Paul went on. “I wouldn’t mind going around telling people what to do myself.”
“You’d probably cut out for a nap the second you were free.” Ryan said and the men around us erupted in deep ooohs.” Paul raised his glass and drank.
“I see that you haven’t put on a baby face like your brother and the rest of these hairless louts.”
“I haven’t really had the chance,” I said my eyes straying to the kitchen door. The smell of cooking meat was permeating the air even over the strong stench of the people around me and the smoke trickling out from the fireplace.
“Well let’s hope you
