Farmer’s Daughter - A Farmer Story
By Dana Short
Jerry Thompson cursed as he slammed his hand against the steering wheel. "Dammit!" he exclaimed pounding the wheel again.
His car gave a final wheezing "Bang" and puffed its last cloud of thick black smoke out the tailpipe as the vehicle finally rolled to a stop on the deserted Country Lane. . .
Getting out of the car, he arched his back and stretched. He knew from the way it had backfired and smoked as it died that this car wasn't going anywhere. Which left him sitting all alone on a deserted country road, who knew how far from the nearest town.
He had hoped to get further away from his last stop before setting up shop again, but he sure wasn't going any further in this car.
Looking again up and down the lane, he discovered he wasn't as alone as he thought.
Just the other side of the road was a pasture, in which a large horse of some kind was grazing, looking up at Jerry every once in a while. A bit further up the road was a small farmhouse, sitting a bit back from the road, to which it was joined by a small dirt and gravel driveway.
With a shrug of resignation, Jerry grabbed his computer case and his duffel bag, and headed towards the house. Maybe he could catch a ride into town from there.
Oddly enough, the horse passed him as he walked up the road to the driveway, but as soon as he turned onto it and started towards the house, the animal made its own turn, and ran to the other side of it's pasture, about as far from the house as it could get.
Jerry called out a "Hello" when he had made it about half way up the driveway, when he saw a shape moving around on the porch.
"Whatcha want?" a gruff male voice called back from the side of the house, a voice which didn't sound friendly at all.
"I'd like to use your phone, if I may. My car's broken down, and I need a ride into town," Jerry replied, gesturing with the arm holding the duffel bag towards his car.
"Well, we ain't got a phone, an I ain't got a car myself neither just now," the voice replied, causing Jerry to stop dead in his tracks.
"But seein as how ya looks like an honest hard workin type, I'll make a deal with ya. I'll putcha up for the night, an in the mornin, soon as yer ready, I'll hitch up ol Phill there in the pasture to my buggy, an give ya a lift into town. It'l only cost ya tweny dollars, and ya'll een get supper outa the deal. Whadaya say, son?" the Farmer asked, stepping out from the side of the house.
He was a relatively non-descript man, of remarkably indeterminate age, but he did have one striking feature--his eyes. They were a cold, intense grey--just looking into them could give you the chills. "M-name's Sammell Watters, 'nd I own this farm. Taint' much just now, ya know, but I'm workin on it. I gotta small fishin pond out back I been stockin up, I've a new grove of apples sproutin up in record time, an I just got ol' Phill out there ta help me with the haulin, an most everything else is comin' 'long too. . . I gotta problem with some rats eatin at my grain, though, but I figgur to have that taken care of in a day or so," the Farmer said, stopping before Jerry and extending a grimy hand.
"Jerry, Jerry Thompson, Insurance Representative, Nocturnal Aviation Insurance Company," he said, automatically pulling out a business card, and presenting it with his left hand while taking the offered hand in his own with the right. Why not? He'd shaken worse before.
"So, Whatcha do for that Insurance Company? Are ya an Adjuster?" the Farmer asked, looking Jerry up and down carefully, "No, ya don't have the look of an Adjuster. Ya look a bit too honest for that," he finished, with a small shake of his head.
"Nope, I sell Policies. Although, if you buy one of my policies, and ever get any flack from an adjuster, you just give me a call, and I promise I will get it all straightened out right away."
The Farmer looked Jerry up and down, and replied with just one sound to the soft sell approach... "Iffn."
The Farmer then turned towards the house and motioned towards the house. "Come on with me, take a load off. Katelyn will have supper down in no time."
Jerry followed the Farmer towards the house. It was as he stepped onto the porch that he first saw her.
A woman, so incredible that his heard stopped, and his adam's apple became the size of a real apple, forcing him to come to a stop and simply stare.
Starting from the top, she had red hair. Red the color of burnished copper, shining in the noonday sun, even here in the shade of the porch, in the gloom of early evening. . . Below her hair was her skin. It was so pale, it almost looked translucent, with a tiny sprinkling of soft freckles, mostly across her cheeks and nose, giving her a merry, youthful look. Then there were her eyes. They were the same eyes as the Farmer had himself, and yet completely different. They were the same shape, the same size, and the same shade of gray, but yet, where the Farmer's eyes were cold, almost chilling, her eyes almost projected life and warmth, and, joy. Finally, he shook himself of her spell, and realized he was staring. "Evening Mam, my name's Jerry. Jerry Thompson," He offered, dropping his duffel, and sticking out his hand.
"Well, hello there Jerry, Jerry Thompson, I'm Katelyn." she laughed in a musical voice, reminiscent of a song bird welcoming the first day of spring as it sat upon a sunlit branch at the top of an awaking tree. She smiled as she took his hand, and gave it a gentle shake. Her hand was soft and cold against his own, and it made him want to draw her to him and warm her up.
"Why don't you and Pa go on inside, and I'll get the food set out for you. Now Pa, don't forget to wash up!" she said with a smile as she softly pulled her hand from his grasp, and spun around, to vanish through the door, leaving only a slight cent of Cinnamon to show that she had ever been there in the first place.
"That's ma daughter Katelyn. The light of my life since her mother died. I dunno what I'd do without her," the Farmer said, nodding at the door. "If any one ever did anything to hurt her, I dunno what I'd do."
Jerry followed the Farmer into the house, and set his bags by the door.
The inside of the house was dark, and cluttered, obviously they weren't expecting company. But then again, he wasn't expecting to be company either.
Following the Farmer into another room, Jerry found himself in a rustic dining room, with a dinner table occupying most of the space. Looking around the room, he noted that there were four chairs set around the table. Two of them, one at one end of the table, and one in the middle, closest to the door he assumed led to the kitchen, were pushed back a bit from the table, like someone had just gotten up from them, while the other two, which were at the foot of the table, and closest to the door they had entered by, were pushed up tight against the table, and had apparently sat in that same position for so long that their legs had sunk noticeably into the rug
"Goon have a seat. I'm goona go wash up, an I'll be right back," the Farmer said, gesturing towards the chair nearest the door.
Jerry lifted the chair from its holes in the carpet, and slid it back from the table enough to sit down. He then looked down at his own grubby hands, and decided they needed a wash as well, before he should be eating dinner with other folks, at least. Hearing noises from the "kitchen" door, Jerry got up, and walked over to the door. He knocked lightly.
The door swung open to reveal Katelyn's shining eyes and lovely face. "Yes?" she asked with a smile.
By way of response Jerry lifted his hands, then took a chance on his voice again. "Your father told me to take a seat and went off to wash up. But on consideration, is there a sink I can use to wash my hands in the kitchen somewhere?"
Katelyn flashed another smile, and her eyes twinkled merrily as she opened the door up the rest of the way. "So like my Pa, he would forget his head if it weren't on his shoulders. Right this way." She led him across a well organized kitchen over to the sink, and pointed out which bottle had the hand soap.
As Jerry washed off his hands, he listened while Katelyn hummed to herself melodiously as she scooped the food onto serving trays in preparation for bringing it out. He could not quite hear the tune, but he could tell that she had a lovely voice.
She was lovely in so many ways. "Watch it! Or you're gonna find yourself falling for her. You are still too close to your last port of call to even think about slowing down for awhile!" he told himself.
He dried his hands on a waiting dishrag, and thanked Katelyn again for the use of her sink, before heading back into the Dining Room and seating himself again in the previously indicated chair. He had just settled back down when the Farmer returned to the room, and took up station in the chair at the head of the table.
"Katelyn! We're ready in here!" he called, as he pulled his chair up to the table.
"Coming Pa" Katelyn's voice returned, muffled, from within the kitchen.
The door suddenly swung open, and Katelyn backed into the room, carrying several trays piled high with food balanced magically on both arms. "Watch out!" she called with a smile, as she spun around and slid three of the trays onto the table. "There ya go," she noted with a grin as they slid to a stop, right about the center of the table. Then she nudged another tray off her left arm down onto her palm, and set it softly on the table as well. Finally, she transferred the last two plates from her right arm, using her left hand to grab the first, and repeating the sliding catch for the last only this time with her right hand, and by the time she was done, all six plates of food were spaced evenly between their three chairs. "Be right back!" Katelyn called, and turned and vanished back into the kitchen with a swing of her hips.
Jerry looked at all the food. He was amazed she could have even prepared it, let alone brought it in all at once.
There was a plate filled with sliced ham, a second heaped with mashed potatoes, a third with what looked like snap peas, a fourth held several pieces of fried chicken, the fifth was covered with fried okra, and the sixth, had five ears of fresh corn, still on the cob.
A few seconds later, Katelyn again emerged from the kitchen loaded up with stuff. This trip she carried a fresh apple pie, several empty plates with silverware sliding around atop them, and a bowl of gravy in her other hand.
She set down the gravy first, then used her free hand to lift the plates, and then did that trick of hers again, catching the pie as it slid down her arm to her hand, and setting it a bit past the rest of the food, towards the empty end of the table.
Eyeing the pie, the Farmer said "That the first Johnny Thompson Delicious?"
And Katelyn smiled and said "Yep," imitating her father's accent.
She then proceeded to distribute plates and silverware, returning once to the kitchen to fetch three glasses of iced tea, along with a pitcher for refills, before sitting down to eat.
Dinner was magnificent! Not only was Katelyn pretty, but she was also an excellent cook. The pie was one of the best he had ever had, with a tartness to the apples which merged perfectly with the cinnamon and brown sugar.
After dinner, while Katelyn was cleaning up in the kitchen, the Farmer turned to Jerry and said, "Yep. Some woman, my daughter. Now, I hope you are an honorable type, and will keep yer hands off her whiles yer stayin under my roof. I won't mention it again. Just be warned, I'd be mighty displeased if anything happened to her. Mighty displeased."
Jerry shuddered at the thought of the Farmer being 'mighty displeased' about anything, and once again reminded himself his first priority was to get out of the state. Before his past, er, caught up with him.
Katelyn came out of the kitchen and smiled at Jerry. "Well, Mr. Thompson, how was dinner?" she asked in her musical voice.
Jerry grinned and said, "It was wonderful Miss Watters. And please, call me Jerry."
Smiling even wider, Katelyn replied, "Well then you just drop that Miss Watters part and call me Katelyn lie everyone else. I hear Miss, and I start looking for one of my Boarding School teachers."
"Ok, Katelyn it is then," Jerry said with a smile, as though he had just negotiated a new policy.
"Well then Jerry, let's take you up to your room, and get you settled in for the night. Pa likes to call it quits soon after the sun goes down, and get up a bit before it rises," Katelyn said with a laugh.
Rising from his seat, Jerry followed her back out to the living room, where he went over and collected his stuff from beside the door, then they went back into the hall, and about one third of the way down it, went up a set of stairs to the left, all the way, Jerry admiring the way Katelyn moved her hips as she walked.
At the top of the stairs, they passed a room on the right, which Katelyn gestured to and said, almost suggestively, "That's my room, if you want anything at all, just come over and knock. Just be real quiet though, or you'll wake my Pa."
Next came a door on the left, then another door on the right. Katelyn opened the door for him, and motioned him inside. "This is going to be your room for tonight. Go on and set your stuff down."
Jerry did so, then stepped back out to the hall. Katelyn motioned him to follow her around the corner, and she pointed out two other doors, one just around the corner. "This is the upstairs bathroom. You are welcome to use it, just knock first to make sure no one is inside," and the other one at the end of the hall, "That's my Pa's room, so be careful not to disturb him."
With that, Katelyn turned back around and walked back up the hall. "We leave the hall lights on low here at night, since there's no windows in it, and you can get confused and bump your nose into the wall in the dark at times, so you shouldn't have any problems finding your way around. Pa'll be asleep in about an hour, and I'll be in my own room by then as well. See ya later!" she said with a mischievous grin, just before planting a quick kiss on his cheek, and dancing off down the stairs, leaving Jerry's head spinning.
Jerry went back into his room, and began unpacking his duffel, his mind a roil of conflicting emotions. Yes, he found Katelyn quite attractive, and by all indications she also found him so as well. But her father said to 'Stay away' or he'd be 'Mighty displeased.' With one part of his mind, Jerry realized he was actually living the Salesman's role from the classic story of the Salesman and the Farmer's Daughter. Another part of his brain kept reminding him that he had to get away, he did not have time for any complications. A very small part of his brain noted it was often considered impolite to sleep with your host's daughter, especially when you were expressly asked not to. Although he wasn't actually asked not to, was he? The Farmer said he HOPED Jerry was the honorable type. Well, Jerry had been called many things by many folks in his life, but 'honorable' was not one of them. He also said he'd be 'Mighty displeased' if anything happened TO his daughter, not WITH his daughter.
As he got out his things, and ambled down the hall, knocked on the bathroom door, and went inside to take a shower, his mind continued finding loopholes for every objection he had come up with.
The final remaining objection as he sat in his room, checking through the records remaining on his laptop for anything incriminating that might be used against him, was the need for no complications. But as he reminded himself, since when was a single night in bed with a lovely and willing young lady necessarily a complication?
Shutting off the laptop, he looked at the time. It had been over an hour and a half. He could still hear Katelyn moving around in the room next door, humming something softly to herself. It was now or never. He had heard the Farmer stop in the hall on his way by a bit over an hour earlier, and say something to Katelyn through her door, before moving off around the corner and off to his own room. If Katelyn was right, by now he should be fast asleep.
Jerry softly opened his door and steeped into the hall. He looked around, but it was clear. He turned to his left and walked up to Katelyn's door, stopping just before it. He knocked softly.
"Yes?" came Katelyn's voice from inside. He reached down for the doorknob to turn it, but as his hand turned, it slid smoothly over the surface of the knob.
"What is it?" Katelyn asked again from inside the closed door.
Jerry raised his hand and looked at the glistening substance on his palm. Grease of some sort. Why would someone want to put grease on the outside of a doorknob?
All at once his body was wracked by an intense pain, and he found he could not move, couldn't even breath. Losing his balance, he toppled forward and landed woodenly on the hall floor, his still upheld hand filling most of his view, with a small red tool box faintly visible beyond it.
Suddenly the pain intensified, and Jerry saw the fingers of his hand start to melt. They grew shorter and shorter as his hand vanished into a stump, and then the stump itself began to vanish into his sleeve.
As he watched, the dwindling lump of his arm slowly backed up his sleeve and out of his sight. If he could have moved, he would have been screaming his head off, both from the pain, and from the horror of what was happening to him. All over his body, the parts which remained, that is, his skin began to itch like the after effects of the worst sunburn in history. His eyes started to grow fuzzy but just before they lost focus, he noticed a small jar sitting just outside the tool box, where it had been hidden by his hand moments before. The lid of the jar was opened, and there was the handle of a small brush sticking out of it. What caught his eye, though, and what raced through his mind in its last few seconds was the label on the jar. "Snake Oil."
Eventually, the pain receded, and Jerry was again able to move. Slithering out of his discarded clothes like any other abandoned skin, he headed down the stairs and towards the kitchen, where he knew somehow he could find some warmth, and maybe if he was lucky, some rats as well. He could smell them with his tongue, so he knew they were there.
"You know Pa, I was reading in the paper about those policies that that guy sold to folks upstate. He was sure one slippery salesman. I can't see how anyone could be so downright sneaky," Katelyn said the next afternoon while sitting on the porch next to her father.
"Yep," the Farmer replied, watching the barley move in a way that suggested the end of yet another rat, "He did tend to strike me as a real snake in the grass."
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