Before I am Famous

literature is something we infer after the story is told

Mercy, SD

Posted on | October 9, 2007 |

Joe let the fire die to embers and looked to the quilt of stars above him and hoped Ma and Papa looked over. His mother passed away when in the Spring of 1875 before Joe’s 21st birthday and Papa died while he and Joe were on their way to Mercy, South Dakota to start a new life. Papa knew that time had come for him to leave. He wrote a letter to the Dryders asking them to let Joe live in the place they had set up for them and give him a job. He wrote in the letter that Joe was hard worker but didn’t talk much or cause any trouble.

Then Papa called to his son and told him goodbye.Joe watched his father lay on the makeshift bed in the covered wagon and sleep. Sometime before the morning sun rose, Papa took his last breath. Joe buried his head on his father’s chest and let the tears fall. By noon, he buried his father under a large maple tree and did what his father last asked him to do and that was to go to Mercy.

Days and nights came and went and on a crisp October day he entered the town limits of Mercy. He grabbed the letter tighter as he looked around for the store. He couldn’t read well but he could read some important words. He found the store and tied his horse to the post in front. When he opened the door a little bell dinged, a beautiful woman in a red dress came from the back.
“Howdy. You passing through or staying?” she asked in a southern accent.He handed her the letter. She opened it and read it. She looked at him, “Gosh, Joe I’m sorry to hear about your father. I’m Barette and my husband, Jesse, is the one that hired your father to teach. I don’t see why you can’t stay. I’ll have to talk to Jesse and see if he has any work for you.”

Joe murmured, “thanks.”

The bell dinged again and a large overpowering man entered the store. He stood like a bear and looked mean as hell.

“Hey, Jesse. Glad you stopped in.”

“Barette.” He looked over at the Joe, “you passing through or staying?”

“Jesse, this is the teacher’s son, Joe. Look his pa died and he wrote us a letter and asked if Joe could stay and get some work.” She pulled out some folded out bills, “he already paid for a couple of months rent. Maybe he can work over at the ranch and the mill.”

Jesse looked Joe in the eye,”what’s a matter with you boy, can’t talk?”

“Aww, Jess leave him alone his pa says he works real hard,” Barette said.

“Well I could use some extra help at the ranch and at the mill. Okay he can work but if he doesn’t do a good job he’s gone. Boy, you can milk cows and feed the animals and clean the pens?”

Joe nodded.

“Mmhhmm. I don’t know what is it with you and these charity cases, Barette,” he kissed her on the cheek; “I’ve got to back at the mill the jokers just aren’t working fast enough.”

“Give me a sec, Joe; I’ll take to your new home. You don’t worry none about Jesse. He just likes things done his way.” Barette grabbed her bonnet and sat beside Joe in the wagon.

She chatted happily as they traveled out of town. She talked about Mercy and how Jesse inherited the town through his Grandpa and they moved from Atlanta to start a new life. Barette randomly talked about the people that lived in Mercy. Joe loved to her listen her sugary voice. He figured they made a good pair she loved to talk and he loved to listen.

They went past a massive white house and she mentioned that it was her and Jesse’s home and continued driving to a lane surrounded by giant evergreen trees.”That’s where Pete and his family live. I’ll bring you up here to meet him and then he can show you what to do,” she pointed to a clapboard house. “There is a little lane right past the barn turn in here.” He followed her directions. They came to a little cabin hidden from view with trees. He stopped the horse. Joe felt at home already.

She opened the door, “well Joe, welcome home. What do you think?”

“It is very nice,” he replied slowly.Barette took him to Pete’s. Joe settled in nicely and at the cabin. The following day he helped with the ranch and went to the mill. Jesse gave him a job of sorting. At lunch he sat in front of mill. Barette noticed him and brought over some coffee and biscuits. Although he missed his parents, Joe looked forward to every day he saw Barette.

The first snow fell in late October, and Joe sat in the cabin staring at the fire when he heard a knock at the door. It was Jesse.

“Boy, I need your help. Some of my horses escaped. I got some of my men here but I need some more help.”

Joe nodded and grabbed his coat and mounted his horse. A handful of men sat huddled together, Jesse joined them. A man from the mill asked, “ain’t he gonna say anything?”

“Nah, not Slow Joe the boy’s a retard and don’t talk much.”

They rode for an hour by the rising of the moon the group of men rounded up close to 20 horses. Joe had the rear along with Jesse. They brought the horses back to the farm and put them in a fenced in pasture. The other men rode off to town, Jesse stayed back, “you boy, tell Pete them horses are in the pasture.”

Joe nodded. On Saturday, after his morning chores on the ranch, Barette came down the lane. She waved and had a basket in her hand.

“Hi ya, Joe brought some goodies.” They entered inside the cabin and she talked. Today, Jesse collected the rent from most of the people that lived in town. Barette told him that he very few people in Mercy didn’t owe him some kind of money. The ones that didn’t were just as rich as Jesse. In a way she felt bad for the people because they just never seemed to get ahead and they could never leave Mercy. In a way Jesse not only owned most of the town but he owned the people.

“Joe, you know what I like about you. I can talk to you. A lot of the people in town don’t like me too much because I am married to Jesse and they think I am just like him but I’m not. I really get lonely. And you know what really yanks my girdle is that they know that I am nothing like Jesse. But I guess they are afraid I’ll turn on them and tell Jesse everything they say. You know Jesse was a lot different in Georgia. We come here and power changed him. I don’t know about him sometimes.”

Barette reminded Joe of his mother, that same sweet southern accent and total kindness. He knew he loved Barette but he also knew Barette would never love a man like Joe. He may be slow but he did know certain truths about life. Saturdays became special to Joe because Barette came down every Saturday and brought him fresh baked goodies and herself.

Since he did a good job with the horses; that Jesse sold with in days of rounding them up, Jesse asked him to come along another round-up for some of his escaped steer. Joe didn’t think too much but he did think that it was odd they were always rounding up something right as the moon rises.

The Saturday after Christmas, a fresh blanket of fallen snow lay on the lane. He waited for Barette. She never came. He waited all day and she never came. He went to work on Monday and she wasn’t at the store. He worried about her. He dared not ask Jesse, because he was in his typical bad mood. After work, Joe stopped by Barette’s house. He knocked on the door.

She answered it.”Joe,” she said hoarsely. Something happened to Barette’s doll face, bruises and splotches dotted her face. Her eyes were red, “Come in Joe.”

He might not have been a smart man but he knew when someone got beat up since he had his share of fights. She presented him with a packaged wrapped in brown paper, “here Joe, Merry Christmas.” Opening the package he discovered a black woolen scarf.

“Thank you, Barette.”

“Well I knew you didn’t have one and it is awfully cold up here.”

“He shouldn’t hurt you. He should love you,” Joe said slow and steady.

“I know, Joe. I know.” She glanced up at the clock, “you better go, Joe. Jesse will be here anytime.” She put the put the scarf around his neck and tied it. He left her alone. Jesse headed down the road and noticed Joe. He kicked his horse with the spurs.

Joe mounted his horse and rode a little further down. Suddenly, breaking glass and crying filled the air; Joe knew what he had to do.Pushing his horse hard, he rode home grabbed the Winchester and raced back to Barette’s. The screams and sobbing still could be heard.

Joe cocked his gun and opened the door. Jesse stood over his wife with one hand around her neck and the other hand above him. Jesse turned to look as did Barette. Joe squeezed the trigger and the bullet whirled from the barrel and lodged itself in Jesse’s heart. Gasping, Jesse fell to the floor releasing Barette. An icy stare invaded Jesse’s eyes when he took his last breath.

Gunpowder and blood hung in the air. Barette ran to Joe and pulled his head down and whispered in his ear, “Joe, he did it to himself, right, cleaning a loaded gun. He did it to himself.”

A special thanks to Vienne at Eavesdrop Writer for help with this story!!

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Vienne said…
Hello Jenn, this is great! I really enjoyed reading “my” story. I like Slow Joe and I’m glad he came into his manhood at the end. Maybe he even got the girl! I didn’t have any preconceived notions when I asked for a story about “Slow Joe”. I just liked that it rhymed. I love how you brought him to life. Thanks for a very nice story. Also, I have posted a thread about your Weekly Shorts on my writers’ group over at Blog Catalog called “Got Character”. Check it out when you can! Vivienne

Category: weekly shorts

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