Chapter 137
Some people make things happen.
Some people watch things happen.
Some people wonder what on earth just happened.
Sawyer is one of those people that makes things happen. That has been a wonderful for me and for the Hartford family … and beyond. Lately it feels like I fall into the last two categories no matter how I might think I was in that first category for a while. After I got so sick and frail it is like I am frozen, or maybe that there is a wall around me that is ice.
“Sawyer. What. Happened.”
He sighed. “Babe …”
“Did your family have anything to do with this?”
He was silent then quietly said, “Not directly.”
“What does ‘not directly’ mean? Did they set you up?!”
“No. Or at least, it wasn’t intentional. You would have thought the knotheads would have learned from what happened to Jamison.”
It took me a moment to put two and two together. I nearly hissed like a cat I was so fired up. “Are you telling me those idiots were bragging?! And got called out for it or something?”
“Er … something like that. They were bragging and … I tried to stop them from getting killed.”
I had to stop wiping his face so I could flop down in a kitchen chair before I threw myself on the floor and threw a tantrum. Sawyer turned to find me with my hands in fists in my lap and he said my eyes were scrunched tightly closed and my face was a mask of fury. Those were his words … a mask of fury. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t a mask, that it was my real face and how I was really feeling.
“Sawyer, just tell me you are okay,” I finally all but begged, breathing slow and measured through my nose.
“I’m okay. A little scuffed up but the CI’s militia men broke up the battle pretty fast once it had gone far enough they weren’t given any choice but to take an interest in it.”
“The battle?! And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the rules are the community has first dibs on most stuff and only after it becomes something like breaking up public property or something along that order are they allowed to get involved.”
Still ruminating on his injuries I said, “That cut on your arm … it’s from a knife isn’t it.”
“Er, no. From a machete.”
“From a machete?!!” I wanted to know what kind of “battle” was he talking about.
“Easy Babe, it was a slice, not a hack job.”
“Those IDIOTS!!! Which ones?! Which ones?!!!”
“Babe! Take it easy. Jolene is going to hear you and Burt will be home from school any minute. I don’t want him to hear you having a fit.”
That outrage just about took my breath away.
He backtracked fast when he saw how I’d taken his words. “Er … okay, that might not have come out exactly right. I just mean … aw hell, I don’t want to make him think we are fighting.”
“WE, are not fighting Sawyer Hartford. However, I might just find a hole and dump some of your idiot cousins in it for the remainder of eternity. And I don’t care if they get ‘scuffed up’ on the way in and down. The only reason I am not doing it right this second is because I mostly like their parents, I think, and because I want the full doggone story before I go strip some skin off them.”
He muttered, “You’ve been taking lessons from Barb. When I took Huely back to their place she was threatening to stake a few of them out and covering them up in chigger infested grass and forget where she left ‘em.”
“That’s another thing we could do,” I told him, liking the way Barb was thinking.
“Babe, none of the cousins beat on me.”
“But they set you up.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Are you honestly defending them?!!”
He took a deep breath and took my hands in his. “Babe, I’m here. I haven’t left you. You are not alone.”
“Well neither are you and this time instead of you being the one to take all the licks for that, I am going to knock the holy living snot out of …”
“Whoa.”
“Whoa what?!” I snapped, irritated that I wasn’t being taken seriously. It only made me want to hit something … preferably someone … even more.
“You’re … er … righteously pizzed.”
“Yes. I. Am.”
“Obviously I have not explained the situation well. Wanna come sit with me by the stove?”
“If it means you trying to sweet talk me out of wishing death and destruction on your idiot cousins and then doing something about actually having it come to pass you can just think again Sawyer McGee Hartford.”
“Er … you used my entire name.”
“You are not honestly trying to make me laugh this off are you?!”
“Well, maybe not laugh it off but … I’d give it a good solid attempt to bring you down outta the trees.”
I warned him, “You are not helping. In fact, I’m thinking of taking the wagon to see Barb and maybe the two of us can …”
“No. Nope. Uh uh. There’s been enough blood and trauma. And I still need work out of the ones you and she would catch and likely frighten to death at this point. Just come sit with me so I can get this told before Burt gets home.”
# # # # #
Fine. Maybe the cousins did not set him up or participate in the beat down. And maybe some of those knuckleheads even got beat on worse which is why Sawyer got involved. Saying he saved them from getting killed might not be as far from the truth as it sounded when he first said it. And Sawyer saying some of them are likely to get beat on by their big brothers for being idiots doesn’t hurt my feelings at all either. But they were at least partially responsible for starting it because they were egging on some of the “immigrants” hanging around the old Bait and Tackle looking for work … hiring them is more illegal than them being in the country these days. People still do it but not in the county where the ag work is they used to depend on. And if the CI catches you, you better pray the paperwork you have on them looks good enough to pass inspection or you’ll be a lot worse off due to fines and penalties than had you simply hired someone with a valid green card and paid the employment taxes. The immigrants resent that. They resent it a lot and in other places they’ve gotten used to being able to intimidate people who take “their” jobs to pay them just to get gone.
I have some compassion for them, went to school with some of them and even was friends with them, not to mention I spoke and still speak Spanish. But, there is a line they crossed and they have to deal with the consequences. I’m not lording anything over them, but I work just as hard as they do to keep my family from starving and I don’t break the law to do it. I will admit they are caught between a rock and a hard place because “cash” isn’t of any value these days, not even gold and silver, only the digital currency and “credits” that can be used at food distribution centers, etc. Which adding insult on top of injury to the way of life they’d become used to, they must show proof they’ve paid both federal and state taxes. If they bring something into trade at a pawn shop type of place like has popped up in town, they must prove ownership of the item with an original sales receipt. If they have a valid green card and can actually find someone to hire them, they have to pay their income taxes in advance rather than in arrears at the end of the year. They can’t own a car, house, or get a driver’s license since they can’t do things like get insurance or get a business license without being here legally and paying a lot of money in fees and having a huge bond on file. Bottom line is it has made that population a little on the sensitive side, especially those that were born in this country to illegal parents, as simply being born here no longer guarantees you a social security number, green card, or any of that.
What the goobers (meaning the younger cousins) did was start talking big. It was in reaction to the attempted intimidation by the “immigrants” but that still wasn’t the smartest way to handle it. But what can you expect from testosterone poisoned high school males that had their pride tweaked, especially after some names got let out of the bag. Apparently those working with the CI, which the illegals hate with a passion to the point they’ve tried to assassinate him a couple of times, only creating more trouble for their population, are already known and the Hartford name in particular is well known. Gramps and the uncles only hired through companies that brought in supposedly legal ag workers … well they used to prior to the year of all the marriages. After that they didn’t hire any outside workers at all, they simply put all the boys to work. Then the old CI pretty much brought in his own harvesters and inspectors.
The immigrants are getting desperate. They used to avoid the troubles in their home countries by coming here to work or getting refugee status and getting all sorts of charitable and government help. Doesn’t work that way these days as there are now stuff at the federal level saying taxpayer funded assistance of people here illegally is no longer lawful. Even illegals in the prison system are put to work to earn their keep. And charities is slim to none for them with immigration places closed and if you are caught you are simply drop shipped back where you came from under heavy guard or you are air flighted to penal barges and supplies are drop shipped every third week including fresh water. No guards necessary as the Coast Guard and Navy take turns blowing up any boats that come near. Things are hard enough in some countries that people try to get into those barges from outside and the inmates have had to fight off a few rounds of boat people that came to take the food and water they need to survive on. If you are sent to one of those barges, you are basically forgotten about as individuals and the court system has basically said, “we’ll get back around to you after the war is over so until then you’re just going to have to sit tight.”
An hour later after Burt had come home – having already heard the gossip about the riot – and Jolene was up from her nap, Sawyer got my attention. “Babe?”
I looked at him still trying not to be mad that yet again Sawyer had to take some lumps that he might have volunteered for, but he didn’t deserve.
“I need you to come to the family meeting tonight.”
“Excuse me?”
“I know you don’t want to go. I know it is going to be a hassle to bring the kids. But I need you to come. It is a potluck and everyone in the family is bringing something.”
“Why?” I asked. I saw the Hartfords at church nearly every Sunday and got my fill of some of them, but if Sawyer needed something in particular, I was willing to listen.