Daddy's Farm

I’d never admit it to anyone who dared ask but the day I left daddy’s farm was the worst day of my life. Growin' up without a mother meant my role was already chosen for me, and by the grace of God, I filled her boots, I filled ‘em plenty. At the first siren call of the rooster I would peel back my cover and get to work feedin’ the chickens and the horses and the dogs, then I’d fix daddy and my brothers their breakfast and I’d get started on house chores and laundry. Like clockwork, I never missed a day. On this day though, this day was different, you see I din’t hear the rooster on this day, and the sky was so overcast that the sunlight that would normally filter through the window like slices of holographic gold never shone, and I awoke to the sound of my mean brothers messin’ about on daddy’s tractors. I pulled on my boots in panicked haste, leavin’ the laces loose, and pulled on a knitted sweater over my nightgown and went to see about my awful brothers and their wicked antics, wonderin’ where daddy might have gotten to and whether he was wonderin’ about my whereabouts. Swingin’ open the weathered old porch door I mentally logged that some oilin’ was overdue and I stepped out onto the veranda and hollered at Jimmy and Lucas, “if daddy catches you wreckin’ the yard again, you’re in big trouble!” I yelled from the front of the house, just then noticin’ the sparkly dew that coated the ground, lettin’ me know that it was still early. My brothers cackled when they spotted me and continued tearin’ up the grass, leavin’ ginormous muddy tyre tracks in a figure of 8 on my daddy’s land. My brothers were nuisances, that’s what the town called ‘em, since they were young, they done nothin’ but cause trouble and scare the townfolk, they di’nt scare me though. Jimmy and Lucas was twins, and that day, they were 17, a year younger than me, they di’nt know it then but they’d also be leavin’ the farm in a matter of hours.

“Git here now ‘fore I get the sheriff up here!”, I di’nt hear daddy comin’ but I heard his voice boom over the farm, birds flapped their wings from the top of the trees that sheltered our property and flew higher and higher, and Jimmy and Lucas shut off the engines and plodded like guilty dogs up the yard, their boots crunchin’ on gravel when they reached the drive. “You two done nothin’ but piss me off since the minute you been born, git in and clean up, your list of chores just got bigger.” My daddy wan’t a very scary man, he was small and stocky, and he had no hair on his head which he made up for with his big blonde beard, and he was as serious as they come, he had no time for foolery or jokes. Daddy looked at me as my brothers traipsed indoors, gesturin’ for me to follow, one hand shoved deep in his grubby overalls which I realised was sproutin’ hay and brandishing a muddy wet patch on both knees. He’d done my job of feedin’ the animals for me. I decided that day that I’d fix a big breakfast as a thanks to daddy - it was the last one he ever ate.

Fried eggs on fried bread, lardy bacon, beans, and biscuits loaded our plates that mornin’ and nothin’ could be heard ‘cept for the scraping of knives and forks on china plates and slurpin’ water to chase the salty film that coated our tongues. The sun never showed itself, but I remember admirin’ the dense mist that rolled down the mountains and through the trees linin’ our farm and coilin’ round their thick trunks, holdin’ on tight ‘till evenin’ when the moonlight lit it up like white candyfloss. Daddy broke the silence, “boys, you’re gonna help Iris today, you do what she tells ya.” Eyes wide, I pushed up from my chair and busied myself clearin’ plates and cups, keepin’ my back to the dinin’ table where I was sure my brothers’ gazes was burnin’ holes in the back of my head.

“Like fuck we are”, Jimmy spat. I put the plates and cups in the sink to wash and took my time gettin’ the water temperature just right and makin’ sure the soap was bubblin’, watchin’ the tiny suds burst under the tap. With the plates and food cleared, I was confused why daddy and the twins were still sittin’ at the table, I imagined daddy was strokin’ his beard and starin’ Jimmy and Lucas into submission. I had a deep, awful feelin’ that the boys weren’t givin’ in so easy and my spine shivered waitin’ for the fuel to be added to the hot flames that was daddy’s quick temper.

“Say, Iris, why don’t you let Jimmy wash those dishes for ya?” I glanced back at daddy, tryin’ my hardest to meet his eyes to tell him without my words that I di’nt want that, that I was happy mindin’ my business, and I di’nt want my terrible brothers gettin’ in my damn way. All I saw was my daddy strokin’ his beard and smirkin’ at Jimmy and Lucas in a way he never did at me. It was never said aloud, but daddy hated those boys, their antics was what sent my mama drivin’ down that gravel road and onto the highway and never lookin’ back.

“I ain’t never washed no dishes in this house and I ain’t about to start now”, Jimmy sat back in his chair and crossed his brawny arms over his chest. My brothers were young, but their wild side aged them, their street smarts kept their tongues sharp, and their quiet rage for mama’s leavin’ left ‘em like shook up sodas on a store shelf waitin’ to be opened. Lucas stood up then and left the kitchen, a silent protest that was enough permission to see Jimmy get up and do the same. I got back to washin’ those dishes and stared out the window at the silhouetted snow-capped mountain tops barely visible against the murky grey sky, the ground was hidden now under the thick mist, and I watched the tall trees sway in the slight breeze that bent their thin pointy tips, unable to shake the feelin’ that somethin’ bad was gonna happen. I was right about that.

“A storm’s brewin’ Iris, git the horses in for me. I’m goin’ into town.”

“Yessir.” I finished up in the kitchen and got to work in the yard gettin’ the horses back in their stable and shooin’ the chickens into their coop. Fallen leaves swirled at my feet and pieces of my hair fell loose from their clip at the back of my head, slowly, and then all at once, the rain pelted down sideways, the chill of its touch stealin’ my breath as it pattered on the back of my neck. “Dang it”, I cursed, gatherin’ up the hem of my nightdress and runnin’ back inside, the farm dogs rushin’ in after me ‘fore the porch door swung closed, rattlin’ the windows. The house was deathly quiet, only the sound of the harsh rain smackin’ the windows and doors and the wind whippin’ through the cracks of the walls. By the time daddy returned, red-faced and sodden, empty cans and cookin’ pots were dotted around the house to catch drops of rain, the orchestra of pings and clangs echoed through the silence.

“You seen those boys, Iris?” The house was dark under the late afternoon haze and the full clouds promisin’ more rain, daddy’s low brow made his eyes look like cavernous holes, his snarlin’ lip lit up by the torch danglin’ from his hand. “No daddy”, I told him. Those boys was up to somethin’ and I wanted nothin’ to do with it. I began emptyin’ the rain filled vessels into the sink, my concern growin’ for the farm and the house with the rain not lettin’ up, when Lucas burst in through the front door, lettin’ it smack against the house as he let it go in the wind. Daddy and I watched him trudge through the water poolin’ on the floorboards in his big boots, splashin’ us on his way past, “where’s your gun, daddy?” he asked.

“Where’s Jimmy?” Daddy replied, peerin’ out through the door into the front yard, the tractors still loomin’ over the devastation they left on the grass, their deep tracks now crooked ponds, as if the earth had claimed them as its own.

“He’s in trouble. I need your gun. Where is it?” Lucas’ mouth twisted round his words and his teeth spat the t, I realised he was shakin’, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Lucas’ moods were tempests that shook everythin’ in their wake. One time, a young boy named Cal came runnin’ through the trees into our yard throwin’ stones at the barn, scarin’ the horses and ruinin our produce, well I’ve never seen Lucas run so fast I thought for sure he’d start flyin; he dragged the poor boy by his t shirt down the yard and into the trees. Lucas came back pantin’ and sweatin’ and I never asked what happened because I never saw that boy again. We never had no use for guard dogs or fencin’, my brothers were savages but they was loyal. “Jimmy’s in trouble”, Lucas shouted from the front room, lookin’ everywhere for daddy’s gun.

“What kinda trouble?” I knew that gun weren’t stayin’ hidden for long. I should have left then, but I didn’t.

“The kinda trouble that needs a gun.” Lucas splashed back into the kitchen; his boots now soaked from the risin’ water. The cans and pots I’d placed down to catch the rain started floatin’ around us and Lucas and I both looked at daddy as if he controlled the weather, silently pleadin’ with him to turn it off. Even now, I think of my mama’s gaudy, floral armchair that stood out like a sore thumb in the front room comprised mostly of pinewood, antique brass, and beige furnishins, soakin’ wet and eternally empty in that cold, storm-weathered house.

“This rain ain’t lettin’ up”, I muttered mostly to myself. Tyres on gravel sounded outside and the lights from a cop car shined in through the front of the house, illuminatin’ the room in red and blue, the water up to my ankles looked like blood in the flashin’ red. Sheriff Ackles pounded on the door’s window, shinin’ his torch in and blindin’ me from where I stood. Daddy opened the door, “afternoon sir, what can I do for ya?”

“They’re sayin’ parts of town are gonna start floodin’ so I’m comin’ to tell y’all to git yourselves out before you can’t.” Sheriff Ackles was a kind man with a thick moustache and deep crow’s feet that folded when he smiled, he stood with a thumb tucked into his belt and in the beam of his torch light reflectin’ on the risin’ water, the gun hangin’ on his hip was highlighted for just a split second. I knew that Lucas had seen it just as I had and so my attempt to block the doorway was what got me knocked into the water with a crash that sent several cans flyin’ into the wall. It happened in slow motion, my brother reachin’ for sheriff Ackles gun - his tall legs wadin’ through the rainwater climbin’ up and up and up, his hands findin’ purchase on the hilt and in pullin’ it loose from its holster, firin’ the trigger in angry haste and blowin’ right through sheriff Ackle’s neck. The blood spatter travelled far in every direction and my ears popped and rang, deafenin’ the crash of the sheriff’s fall as he crumpled forward like a piece of paper into the door frame and then forward into the water, his blood spreadin’ like ink. Now, I don’t know what my brother’s intentions was with that gun, but I knew he din’t mean to shoot no sheriff that day and I could bet he relives the horror just as I do, over and over and over and over. I remember the noise of the rain beatin’ down as relentless as my brother’s temper like coins in a bucket, and ‘fore I realised what was happenin’, I see my daddy fiddlin’ with his own gun and pointin’ it at Lucas,

“git off my property now else I’ll blow your head clean off those shoulders, boy”, I don’t think Lucas saw the way daddy’s hand shook round that gun, but I did, I saw the regret in my daddy’s unsure arm ‘fore he even knew what he was really doin’. Lucas took off into the forest without lookin’ back and disappeared into the shadows. I never saw him or Jimmy again, but overheard some years later that Jimmy had taken advantage of a girl and met the wrath of her own daddy, it was the only time I’ve been thankful for town gossip. “Iris, you should git gone now too. Cops’ll be up here soon lookin’ for Ackles, I want you gone ‘fore they start pointin’ fingers.” A friend once told me when I was younger that grief ain’t just for the dead, and in that moment hearin’ my daddy tellin’ me to leave, grief consumed me so wholly that my very bein’ split in two; I think of myself as two people now, there’s me ‘fore I left daddy’s farm and me after. I looked at my daddy with tears spillin’ from my eyes and knew there weren’t nothin’ I could say.

I went into the night with my own storm brewin’ inside and as I opened the barn door for the horses, the gunshot that echoed through the tall trees triggered a thunder that ricocheted inside my ribcage, foldin’ me like a lawn chair. I ran and ran until I came to a clearin’ past the woods and stopped to catch my breath, and I wept for my daddy who I knew was no longer on the same side of the earth as me. I stayed in that clearin’ ‘till mornin’ when I found daddy’s dogs curled up beside me in the long, wet grass. The sky stretched wide and unbroken, a canvas of cloudless blue as if the storm’d never been. I peeled myself up from the ground, hatin’ the way my nightgown stuck to my skin, and stood facin’ the direction of daddy’s farm while the world held its breath in a calm stillness. The birds chirped and sang above me, and in the distance, a train passed, carryin’ passengers on their way to work. I remember thinkin’ how unfair life was, how selfish it was in its need to keep on goin’, that I could lose everythin’ I’d ever known, and the birds would still sing, and trains would still pass.

I turned my back on the farm then and took a step forward, then slowly, I took another, the long grass ticklin’ my legs over my muddy boots and the sun embracin’ me in its radiant warmth, and the forest opened before me. An unfamiliar freedom waited for me on the other side of those trees, a freedom I’d never known, and with each step I took I shed another layer of skin, with daddy gone I had no reason to stay, the world ahead of me was mine to claim. I din’t know it then, but I’d end up findin’ home in the unlikeliest of places; a flowin’ river, the mountains, a whistlestop café, the saddle of a horse, an orchard of peaches. I thought about my daddy every day and looked after his dogs until they passed, and when I ventured back into town, people would ask about the farm and that night and I’d tell ‘em that the sheriff and my daddy had an awful to-do that was met with a violent end, and they’d say “I bet you’re glad you got away from all that”, and I’d nod along, unwillin’ to share the burden of my secrets that I was still learnin’ how to carry, because I could never find the words to say how devastatin’ the heartbreak of losin’ and gainin’ everythin’ all at once was for a young girl who never wanted to leave her daddy’s farm.