Barbed Wire Monologue

“Can you blame her? Would you have admitted to using condoms after Reverend Flowers’ sermon and your community notes? She was probably scared to death.”

“I suppose you’re right; we got the message across.”

“Good, firm rebukes is all you need. We don’t need a stockade,” William said.

“We’ll see about that,” Mary said. “And how did the men do? Did you get the barbed wire strung?”

“We fixed a portion of the fence that the poachers cut. The barbed wire should slow them down a little. We posted signs warning that trespassers will be shot on sight.”

“What were they poaching?” Mary asked.

“Turkey and white tail deer most likely.”

“Is there anything else you can do to stop them? I hate the idea of strangers stealing from us.”

“We’re gonna run some more regular patrols out there. Next time we catch a poacher, we’ll string ‘em up on the border of the estate. A few stretched necks should get the message out there.”

“Good idea.”

“What are the party favors tonight?” William asked.

At the end of the Sunday evening cookout and barn dance, Mary sent each family home with a treat as a way of saying thank you for their hard work.

“Honey and maple syrup,” Mary said. “We’re still pretty well stocked from last year, but it’ll be nice to get production ramped back up now that spring has sprung,

especially if we need to do some bartering at Redwood.”
“I know. We need some replacement parts, and our propane is running dangerously low,” William said. “Make a big deal out of the syrup and honey; the community pulled together this week to get the fields cleaned-up and tilled. We took a big step forward into the planting season.”
“Here they come,” Mary said.
William and Mary stood on the front porch watching the men, women and children from Heritage Woods walk towards the farmhouse. The dinner bell and aroma of roasting pork had stomachs grumbling up and down Blue Hills Road. The men were dressed in white cotton or beige hemp button down shirts with suspenders and wool pants. The women wore colorful, full-length, cotton prairie dresses with lace bodices covering their necks. Mary would spend the better part of the night inspecting the dresses to make sure the hemlines rose no higher than the ankle. Mary reprimanded and sent any woman found with a high hemline back to Heritage Woods. The mothers of teenage girls worked carefully to extend the hemlines of the dresses on their quickly growing daughters. Everyone feared Mary’s public rebukes.
“All right, come on,” William said. “Let’s eat.”
A line of farmhands stretched out around several tables loaded with roast pork, potatoes, and salad. The community loaded their plates, filled glasses with apple cider, and took seats at picnic tables and on blankets set up in front of the farmhouse.
William moved between the tables and blankets, asking how everyone fared, and spending a few minutes with each family to extend his appreciation for the backbreaking work it took to run the horse and bull drawn plows across the fields. When William visited each family, all conversation immediately stopped, and men removed their hats in a show of respect for their benefactor. Blue Hills employed over three hundred farmhands. All the farmhands regarded William with a mixture of respect and fear. Despite the hardships and unending physical labor, each of the farmhands knew that things would be much worse if William or Mary expelled them from the estate. At Blue Hills, they could count on three meals a day, a roof over their heads, and a semblance of security.
The community’s collective appetite picked the pigs clean.

The farmhands enjoyed shortbread and strawberry preserve for dessert as darkness slowly settled over the orchard. The women led their children into a barn lit by kerosene lanterns while the men slipped into the darkened orchards around the barn to share mason jars filled with hard apple cider. A guitarist, fiddle player, standup bass player, drummer, and accordionist tuned their instruments, and a caller reviewed the set list and mentally rehearsed the steps for each dance. William stood off to one side of the barn watching the men and women line up for the first dance. The band began playing, and the caller hollered the first

step.

William spotted Catherine standing off to one side of the barn with half-dozen teenage girls. They were giggling and staring at the dancers. William spotted the subject of the girls’ gossip. Susan was dancing with a blonde-haired boy with high cheekbones, thin lips, and broad shoulders. William could tell by the way Susan stared at the boy that she was smitten. From across the barn, William saw Mary observing her daughter’s flirtation with the young farmhand.
Mary stormed across the barn onto the sawdust covered dance floor. Susan and the blonde-haired boy turned a gate hollered by the caller to the 6/8 time of Country Sunshine. Mary grabbed Susan by the arm and pulled her off the dance floor. On her way out of the barn, Mary shot a nasty glare at Catherine and the gossipy teenagers. The girls quickly separated. William walked across the barn and stood next to Catherine.
“Hi, Dad,” Catherine said.
“What was that all about?” William asked.
“What?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Catherine. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“His name’s Eric Richard. He’s a nice boy; you’d like him, Daddy. He’s really smart and a hard worker. Susan likes him, and he adores her.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“Since last fall. They didn’t see much of each other in February, but they exchanged a few letters when the couriers shuffled from Heritage Woods to the farmhouse and cider mill for supplies.”
“Letters, huh…I’m only going to ask this once,” William said. “How far has it gone?”
“How far has what gone?” Catherine asked.
“Has their relationship turned physical?”
“No, Daddy, I promise. Susan’s a good girl. She would never do anything like that. Eric’s a good boy, too. He has been trying to work up the courage to come speak with you. He wants to court her.”

WILLIAM and Mary sat at the kitchen table reading dozens of love letters written by Eric. William found the letters where Susan hid them under a loose board in her closet. The tender letters painted a picture of a boy in love for all the right reasons. William was impressed with the quality of Eric’s writing, and the depth of his sentiments. William finished reading the last letter and looked across the table at Mary.