Part Thirty Four

When I got out there to interview these women it was about 100 degrees in the shade, and about 85% humidity. Lots of sheep, lots of green growing things, lots of bugs. There are six of them now, a new one was added a couple of years after Preacher left – she’s an inspector for an organic food co-op who used to visit to make sure that the farm wasn’t using any pesticides. All six of them are Worshipers, of course.

I could see that it was the kind of place that Preacher would love. I could also see that it was the kind of place that I would hate.

They let Karen do most of the talking, but they had this annoying habit of finishing one another’s sentences. I separated them to interview them individually but when I did that they seemed to be struck dumb. It wasn’t until they were all sitting in the same place that they became articulate.

Anyhow, that first day Preacher got a tour of the farm and put his back into a few routine chores and late in the afternoon Karen said to him, very bluntly: we’re going to talk about you for a few minutes, so why don’t you take Arthur (the dog) and go… over there, somewhere.

He laughed and did so. The dog had padded silently behind him everywhere they’d gone that morning. Whether Arthur was acting as the farm’s guardian or simply showing his devotion to Preacher was, at that time, unclear. He threw a stick for Arthur to fetch, then they wrestled on the ground like idiots.

What about him, Karen asked the other women.

What do you mean, what about him, Donna said.

She means as a hired man, Anna says. Like we talked about last week.

I don’t know, Cassie said, looking at him and raising an eyebrow. We don’t know him at all. He could be some psycho.

Arthur’s a better judge of character than that, Ellen said, also looking at the man. He usually doesn’t like anybody. Preacher and dog were playing tug-of-war with the stick.

Look, Karen said, we agreed we need someone. At least for a few weeks. We let the winter maintenance get way ahead of us. We have a cutting of hay to bring in, the shearers will be here in two days, we’ve got seed to put in the ground, and the barn roof is leaking like a sieve. If we knew what the hell we were doing, five of us would be plenty for all that, but we don’t. We’re better off than we were last year, but we’re still not there. Plus, Preacher can go into town for us – as hateful as some of these people are, they’ll respond better to him, I bet. And he’s got one advantage over anyone else we could hire locally.

What’s that, Cassie said.

He’s not a local, Donna said.

Exactly, Anna said.

They stood in silence for a moment, contemplating him, contemplating the risk they were taking. As a group they were still searching for their balancing point, and as a group they were still not sure that their little agricultural venture was going to last another year. Elizabeth’s departure had shaken their already rickety structure. And now to add some guy…?

Where would he live? Ellen said. Not the house.

I thought we could stick him in that old tack room in the loft, Karen said. It’s warm and dry, or at least it will be when we get the roof fixed. It’s got electricity. Right now it’s holding nothing but cobwebs and a few rusty old tools.

They looked at each other.

I would vote yes, with one provision, Cassie said. Which is that any of us can veto this at any time. We don’t know this guy at all. He might turn out to be a real asshole.

The others agreed.

What makes you think he’ll take it? Donna said.

He said he was looking for work, Karen said. In town. We can offer him a job and a place to stay. And not nearly as much abuse.

OK, Preacher, we’re finished talking about you, Anna yelled in his direction. Preacher got to his feet and he and Arthur ambled toward them, bits of grass and hay stuck to them in various places, and what looked like identical grins on their faces.

Do you know anything about roofing a barn, shearing a sheep, cutting hay or planting seed? Karen asked him.

Nope.

Neither do we, Donna said. How would you like a job?

They told me that he’d been hesitant to accept, at first. Not because he didn’t want it. But because he seemed to have the same idea that he had the potential to be a great big penis-bearing turd in the punchbowl of their little hippie experiment. But he liked the farm, he liked them, he liked Arthur… so he let them convince him.