Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

that her husband had never gone out after supper before, nor that he had never gone to play poker at Bobby Lee’s General Store, but he had never been the one to bring the food. Pouring the hot grease into a tin can, Eula caught herself talking out loud.
    “Like Alex always says, this is just women’s silliness. Some foolishness I can’t even put a name to.” Eula scrubbed at the pork chop skillet hard enough to scrape a knuckle. “Alex and Ben Roy just got into it again. Taking food to old Becky must be Alex’s way of getting back at my brother.” Hearing her own words did not soothe her worries. She walked over to the safe and pulled out her journal. Alex had surely made a dent in her supplies tonight, but, like always, she would find a way to manage.
    Climbing into bed, Eula touched her husband’s empty pillow. Alex wasn’t much of a gambling man. She hoped he and Ben Roy could work out whatever their fuss was about. With the moon at half-mast, a thought that the problem lay somewhere on the mid-forty fought its way into Eula’s mind. She pushed it back into the darkness where it belonged. Just woman’s foolishness. She and her husband had had other iffy harvests, and they always made out just fine. As she turned down the wick on the bedside lamp, that churning feeling in her stomach that wouldn’t settle down told her that sleep would come hard this night.

CHAPTER TEN
     
    The moon had already launched its transit across the sky when Alex saw the lantern light shining through the small window at the top of the barn. It was the first thing he spotted as he turned off the lane and onto the path leading toward the living quarters on the mid-forty. Somehow, he had supposed the place would already be in darkness. He gave the gray a little kick in the side. The horse reached the barn in a few quick strides. There, standing just inside the partially opened barn door and wrapped in a frayed quilt, was the woman.
    Though it was nearly nine o’clock, and the September evenings were cooling down, Alex didn’t believe it was quilt weather just yet. Her boots from the morning peeked from underneath the heavy cover. What was she wearing underneath that quilt? Breasts, hips, and those bare thighs—pictures of her nakedness rumbled through his mind. He didn’t bother to push back his grin as he scrambled down from the horse. Alex kept his eyes on the woman as he fumbled with the parcels slung across the saddle. The warmth moving up his body heightened his anticipation as he walked toward her. She stood, unmoving, with her head bowed. Alex had almost reached her when the ruckus from the living quarters dashed down upon him.
    Loud crying from the woman’s youngest child competed heavily with shouts from the shrill voice of her girl, and the running feet of he knew not who. Alex stopped several yards from the woman and pointed upward. Didn’t she know to be ready for him?
    “Why ain’t your children asleep?” He didn’t want an audience of children.
    “They’ll be asleep soon enough, suh.”
    He had to strain to catch her words and wondered why. She certainly spoke her wants loud enough this morning. Now, it was too late for her to back out of their bargain. Shifting the pouch to his shoulder, Alex reached toward the woman. His hands reached to loosen the tight grip she kept on the edge of the quilt. Just as his hand touched hers, she turned and moved toward the barn, the quilt sliding halfway down her back. Alex saw that she still wore the same dress from the morning.
    As he stepped inside, the lure of fresh-cut tobacco that should have signaled an early September greeting at his entrance was noticeably absent. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he watched the woman walk past the cows bedded for the night. All was quiet on the lower floor of the barn. The chickens had tucked in their wings for sleep. Outside in their pens, the three hogs had gone silent. He watched his tenant gather the quilt over one arm as she stopped near a small stack of spearing sticks. Behind her, the last few bales of hay lay mounded in a short pile topped with the pitchfork. Bits of straw covered the barn floor. He looked at the woman with her head still dropped. Did she want to tumble him right there? His back was too stiff to roll around on the hard boards of a barn floor.
    The light shining down from the small opening of the living quarters framed the woman. Headed toward the ladder, he made out the curves of her body, even