Farmer Takes a Wife Read online

  Chapter 3- Surveying the Land

  On a cool Friday afternoon, Carson rolled into Serenity, Wyoming, uncertain what to expect of the little town. In his heart, he feared he had been swindled online by a con man who took his down payment on land that the Jamar fella swore was perfect for farming. He didn’t know about the land, but the Wyoming air was so clear and fresh that each time he inhaled, a bit of the South was blown out of his lungs.

  Tall mountains jutted up from the earth like jagged guards protecting the small hamlet called Serenity. It was a serene little place with two streets. The one coming into the town read “Main Street.” At the first intersection of Main were Smalls Street where the Double D General Store sat. Two women, both black, were in and out of the store. It didn’t take him long to see that one was with child.

  That was a detail he made a note of for his Cyndi. If the woman was a store worker and she had the baby, the store manager would need some help when the other lady went on maternity leave. He silently prayed there was some potential there for his Cyndi to get in a few hours of work each day to get her out of the house. The lady on the store’s front porch waved at him.

  Farmer waved back.

  She pointed at a pre-fabricated modular house that had a sign which read “Town Hall.” A second sign read “Bunk House.” The third sign said “Chow Hall.” In Carson’s head, the only signs missing were “Whorehouse” and “Bar.” He threw a mock salute as he climbed from the truck and made a leisurely stroll to the bunkhouse. The streets were gravel, the sidewalks were wooden and crooked, and the bunkhouse was on bricks, but down the road he could see a house at the end of Main Street. At the second intersection, a blue street sign read “Mulberry.” Carson leaned forward, looking around the town hall to see at the end of Mulberry Street was a cute little yellow cottage with a red door.

  His hand was fisted and he raised it to knock on the town hall door when four men came barreling out in the midst of an argument.

  “The hell you say, Holden! Your peat moss wheat grass anti-whatever tea did not cure my cold. All that tea gave me was diarrhea and an itchy butthole!” Jamar said loudly.

  The blonde young man with clean-cut hair shook his head in disagreement. “You have an itchy butthole because you didn’t wipe your smelly handful of ass! It had nothing to do with my tea,” he replied.

  Carson found himself smiling. It was an odd sensation which felt unnatural to his face since the last time he had smiled...well, he couldn’t remember the last time. The past few years of his life had been no smiling matter.

  “Hey you,” the tall thin black man said.

  “Hi, I’m Carson Royal. I’m...,” he started to say.

  An unusually good looking, well-dressed white man, spoke up. “Oh, you must be the farmer. I hope you are planning to put in a hothouse to grow some heirlooms and foods that won’t sprout in these harsh Wyoming climes,” the man said.

  A Hispanic male wearing a chef’s apron seem angered by the statement. “I am buying and flying in the best produce to feed you– you ungrateful little jackanapes. What is wrong with my tomatoes?” the man asked.

  “They are too mushy inside,” the well-dressed man said.

  “So is your head. Where did you get your medical license, some third world country where people only talk in tongue clicks?” the Chef asked with a heavy Latin accent.

  “Hush up all of you. The man just got here. He is going to think he has moved to town full of emotionally volatile men,” the thin man said. “I am Jamar. I own this town.”

  “I am Carson Royal, I guess I am your farmer,” he said.

  “Ain’t no guessing, Carson my man – you are our farmer,” Jamar said. He pointed to the other men. “This here is Chef. I call him Chef because he has some long ass Hispanic name which honors his mother, his father, his grandmother, Jesus, and I swear at least three of the apostles.”

  “Dios! You blaspheme,” Chef said striking Jamar with the back of his hand.

  “I don’t blaspheme anything. You have a long ass name. Go on, tell him your name,” Jamar said almost in a dare.

  “Me llamo...or my name is Salvadore Guiterrez Hispoňa de la Marta Castanza Delgado,” Chef said with pride.

  Carson stuck out his hand, “Pleased to meet you, Chef!”

  The men burst into laughter.

  “This good-looking son of a puss-bucket is Doc,” Jamar said. “He is also the barber. I am not sure what kind of doctor he is, and every time we ask we get a laundry list of stuff we don’t understand what he is talking about. Personally, I think he is a coochie doctor and he don’t want to tell us.”

  “I am not a gynecologist!” Doc said, extending his hand for a shake. “I am Robert Wellington III.”

  “You see, he still didn’t mention what kind of doctor he is,” the handsome young blond man said. “I’m Holden. Holden Cimoc. I am your resident electrician. And Jamar, if he is a coochie doctor, you might want him to take a look at that itchy butthole of yours to make sure you don’t have a yeast infection.”

  “Bite my itchy ass, Holden!”

  Carson’s face was scrunched up as he watched the banter between the men. There was a comradery amongst them that resembled a group of mismatched brothers. The last man walked up to the group with a sour look on his face.

  “That is Jack. He is our construction worker. I am the engineer and town planner and Holden is our electrician,” Jamar told him. “Speaking of which...your house arrived a few days ago. We went ahead and set it up on the best spot on the land. Of course, that depends on your approval. You can work with Jack and Holden to get you power or generators. Jack will work with you on a foundation if you want one or whatever plans you have. They both will give you a fair price for the labor and materials. Barn construction is going to have to wait until spring though; Holden is expecting his first child soon and winter is setting in.”

  It was a lot of information. Carson’s stomach rumbled loudly.

  “Dios, you barbarians, the man is starving. This way, Señor, I know you are hungry. Come inside for a nooning meal,” Chef said to him. “Come, come, we are about to eat.”

  “Not me,” Holden said. “I am heading home for lunch with my gorgeous wife.”

  Carson was curious which of the two houses was his. “You live at the end of Main Street?”

  “Nope. I live at the end of Mulberry. It is the yellow house with the red door,” Holden said as if there were six houses on the street.

  Two steps to the left were taken by Carson, coming to the end of the crooked and uneven porch. “You mean that yellow house there?” Carson pointed at the house no more than a mile away.

  “Yep, that’s it,” he said waving at the pregnant black woman across the street on the porch of the General store. She was a lovely woman, even from this distance. Holden’s accent was so thick that Carson wasn’t sure if and his black baby Mama had run away from some redneck town in the mountains of Tennessee so their love child would grow up free front snaggle-toothed relatives. He found himself smiling again at his own silly thought.

  “Baby, I’m hungry,” the pretty black woman yelled.

  “Okee-dokee,” Holden called back. “Gotta run, gents. You know how the Mrs. gets when she gets hungry. I will be ready to take a look at your place around two, Farmer. Then the rest of you guys, I will see tonight at Darlene’s.”

  “Let’s get you fed first, Farmer, then we will take you over to look at your land, so you can see the spot we chose for the house. It is not down on a foundation yet, so you can choose where you want it, then come back here and sign some paperwork,” Jamar told him. “You can sleep here tonight in the bunkhouse. We have family game night at Daniel and Darlene’s on Friday nights. Most of the men fish on Saturday and we grill out afterwards. We don’t have a church yet, so Sunday’s are quiet days where you spend some time alone with your thoughts, working on your vision.”

  “My vision?” Carson asked.

  “Yeah, Farmer, your vision. I don’t
know what happened in your life back there, but today you are here. Every day moving forward you have to be here. You can’t do anything about what happened back there, so wasting time thinking about what you could have done differently or better is stupid. We all are here to start over and make a new life. I am my brother’s keeper.”

  “You are what?”

  “Before you sign on that dark black line, you have to take the oath to be your brother’s keeper. Each man here will be your brother. You will not transgress, double cross, cheat, steal, or touch your brother’s woman. And speaking of women, the only ones allowed here are wives. No girlfriends or baby mamas. I don’t even allow Darlene into the bunkhouse and she is like my surrogate Mama! Also, before a woman can spend a single night in Serenity, she has to be a man’s wife,” Jamar said. “My town, my rules.”

  “Fair enough,” Carson responded, his stomach speaking louder than him this time.

  “Speaking of fair – the plot of land I picked out for your farm is pretty amazing. It had water close by, so making an irrigation system will be easy. It has great drainage, but no pesticides please. That water is also our drinking supply,” Jamar told him. His words were drowned out by the sound of Carson’s stomach.

  “Let’s get you fed before you eat someone alive,” he told the Farmer.

  The bunkhouse was nothing fancy. Laminate wood floors, a modern kitchen with upgraded appliances, a large common room with a picnic styled table with wood benches, and what appeared to be four rooms with closed doors. Jamar showed him to the water closet where he washed his hands, staring in the mirror at a face unfamiliar to him. The face which stared back was calm, almost happy. The usually intense eyes had softened and the man gazing back at him was smiling. His stomach rumbled again as he came out to find Chef placing a plate on the table for him. Jack had already taken a seat as Jamar came from the back room. Doc sat at the table gazing off into space, wrestling with a demon that was still holding him hostage in his old life.

  “Right now, it is only me, Jack and Chef in the bunkhouse. My room is the one in the back and Jack’s is next to mine. There are two beds in the room with Chef and two beds in this other room. This front space here with the double glass doors is the Townhall office,” Jamar said.

  “And Doc?”

  “He has the place at the end of Main Street. His practice is going to be there if he can ever get his brain to meet him here in Serenity,” Jamar said. “When he eats, he dines with us, which is mainly for lunch. So far, he doesn’t come to family game night. I don’t really know what he does all week long. He doesn’t have any patients yet. You know Holden won’t let him touch his wife.”

  Carson looked at the handsome man again. Doc had not moved since he sat down. He was as still as a baby bunny. Carson cleared his throat, but still no movement from Doc. Farmer lowered his head over the plate, blessing his food. It was meat, potatoes and something green. He didn’t really care. It was hot, not raw, and ready to eat. He cut into the meat. It was tender, well-seasoned, and chewed like a tender steak.

  “This tastes delicious,” he said to Chef, who beamed with pride.

  “You would never know it was elk if I didn’t tell you,” Chef said with a smile.

  He stopped chewing momentarily, looking at the men. It was his first time eating elk. The meat was so well prepared, he didn’t care if it was the elk’s ass; it was the best ass he’d ever eaten. He cut another piece, then another, until the plate was empty. Carson leaned back, rubbing his full belly.

  “Do I need to wash my plate?”

  “Yes, you do!” Chef said. “I don’t mind cooking, but I am not cleaning up behind grown men. Soon, I will have a little restaurant of my own here in Serenity where you will bring your wives and families to come and dine on Sundays after church.”

  “Please allow me to pay you for the delicious meal,” Carson said to Chef.

  “No, your money is no good here. I am paid by the mayor to provide two hot meals per day to the men in the bunkhouse. I will have enough after the spring to break ground for the pouring of the foundation for my new place,” Chef said happily.

  “If there is anything I can do, let me know,” Carson said.

  “Yes, you can grow me some decent vegetables to cook in my new place, “Chef said quickly. He hit at Carson with the back of his hand, laughing loudly. “I must make meatballs,” Chef said without an anchor to tie the phrase to and then he walked away.

  Nothing else.

  He had meatballs to make and he walked away.

  “Yeah, you will get used to it,” Jamar said. “I am not sure if he was hit or shot in the head, but we found him and he adopted us. He climbed in Jack’s plane in Tulsa and said, ‘I cook for you two,’ so here he is. He cooks for us.”

  Carson couldn’t hold it any longer. The laughter traveled up his stomach, up through his esophagus, and out of his mouth. Doc snapped out of his trance.

  “Oh good, lunch,” Doc said, snapping back to reality, cutting into the elk. “Chef, this food is cold!”

  “It wasn’t when I put it on the table. You drifted off to Neberland or sumthin’,” Chef said. “Your food is cold because you hide in your head!”

  Jack had risen and was washing his plate. “Let’s go look at your new home, Farmer.” He said it so flat, that he acted as if he didn’t even hear what the Chef had said.

  Carson followed the men out the back door, climbing in the back seat of a Kinson Construction truck. The ride across the land was bumpy, uneven, and in possibly the most beautiful place he had ever seen in all his born days. They rode in silence along the shadow of the mountain, taking an odd turn around a bend to a spot of land full of sunshine, trees, and the house he had ordered sitting on the trailer bed which was shipped out in on in two pieces.

  “I thought that would be the best spot for the house since it sits a little higher than the rest of the ground. The land is fertile. The dirt is good and rich and ready to be farmed. Is this to your liking, Farmer?”

  Carson had ceased to breathe. The little prefabricated three-bedroom house had only cost him $25,000 to make and ship to Wyoming. Another $10,000 for the 10,000 acres and he had a new home. Stiff legs carried him to the soil as he bent and picked up a handful of the moist, rich dirt, rubbing it between his hands. He walked across the land to the house, taking a seat on the front porch which rested on one half of the unconnected house.

  Tears he had not shed for Sylvia bubbled in the back of his eyes.

  Anguish he’d nursed like a bad cold over his mother’s suicide took a seat on his lap. The sight of his dead father clutching at his chest in the chair looking out the front window came to the forefront of his mind.

  “Dear God, touch my hands so that they may bear fruit,” he said holding them to the sky. Carson’s body began to shake as the years of pain over took his weary soul. He cried for the old. He cried for the new. He cried for the new sense of peace in having a chance to start over with something good.

  Jack and Jamar took a seat inside the truck giving their new brother some space.

  “Welcome to Serenity, Farmer,” Jamar said as he lowered his hat and took a quick nap in the truck while they waited.

  Chapter 4- It’s All Fun & Games

  Carson sat quietly in the back seat of the truck as they rolled back to town. Based on his calculation, his farm was only four miles outside of the town of Serenity. My farm. I am going to have a farm. My very own farm.

  The smile on his face originated in his heart that he was certain had hardened and shriveled into a little dark ball of hardened tissue. The house was a nice change of pace from the century old structure he grew up in that had more holes and leaks than an eighty-year-old man. Everything in this house was fresh and new. Even the toilet. His ass would be the first to sit on it and use it. No more wheezing washer or fractured fridge to contend with each day. His new house was shiny, pretty and clean. No duct tape would be used to hold anything together as he started a fresh life.

&nbs
p; They arrived at the bunkhouse with Carson grinning from ear to ear like he had a secret that no one else knew.

  “What the hell is up with you?” Jack asked with a worried tone.

  “Nothing, just processing,” Carson said.

  “Nope, don’t work for me. A minute ago you were sitting on half of a porch crying, and now you are grinning like your best girl just gave you some happy time,” Jack said.

  Carson exhaled, looking Jack square in the eyes. “My sister ran away with a seed salesman with a really big penis. He sold the same seeds that forced an unnatural growth of super weeds on our family farm and drained the soil of all the nutrients. A year later, Sylvia, my sister – well, she was found dead. Kind of attached to that big wiener of his. Yep, stuck together like two dogs. They had to cut the bodies apart to bury them. My Mama, God rest her soul, was so distraught, she drove off a bridge into a really large body of water. Mama never learned to swim, so technically, she drowned and didn’t commit suicide. I guess that was her argument to St. Peter as well. My Papa leveraged everything we had to keep the farm going, but it got to be too much for him, so a few months ago, I walked in to find him gone to Glory in his favorite chair. The greedy banks came a-calling and foreclosed on the farm. I have the seeds my Granddaddy bequeathed to me to start this new farm. Every penny I have saved went to buy that house and 10,000 acres to give me a new start.”

  He stopped and exhaled, looking at both Jamar and Jack. Chef had come outside on the porch as well, catching the last portion of what Farmer had spoken. Carson was still smiling as he said the words.

  “Cyndi also agreed to marry me, so as soon as I get everything in place I am going to go get my girl from Idaho Falls. I am going to grow you some beets, sugar cane, Heirloom tomatoes and anything else you think you want to eat. But more importantly, I am going to be happy because finally, after 37 years on this miserable fucking planet, I get to live my life for me. So yes, I am grinning like a gosh dang fool, because this man is happy.”