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Pa didn't see my tears, refused to see the anguish on Tom's face before he hurried over to shake the hand of the burly man wearing worn, dirty overalls. His face was heavyset, what could be seen of it. His dense grizzly beard hid everything but his bulbous nose and his small, squinty eyes. His thick salt-and-pepper hair made his head seem to sit atop his broad shoulders without a neck; then came his bulging chest, his huge, swollen beer belly--all half concealed beneath those loose-fitting overalls.
"I come t'git him," he said without
preliminaries, looking straight at Tom, not even glancing at me. He was about three feet away, and between him and us was Pa. "If he's what ya said he is, that is."
"Take a look at him," said Pa, not smiling this time. He was all business with this farmer. "Tom is fourteen years old and already he's almost six feet tall. Look at those shoulders, those hands and feet; that's how you judge what kind of man a boy's gonna make. Feel his muscles, made strong from swinging an ax, and he can pitch hay as good as any full-grown man."
Sick, it was cruel and sick, treating Tom like a prize calf to be sold.
That farmer with the red face yanked Tom closer, held him as he looked into Tom's mouth, checked over his teeth, felt his muscles, his thighs and calves, asked him intimate questions about
elimination problems, if he had any. Other
embarrassing questions that Pa answered when Tom refused to reply. As if Pa could possibly know, or even care, whether or not Tom had headaches or early-morning lusts.
"He's a healthy boy, he must be sexually aware. I was at his age, eager and ready
to do my damndest fer the girls."
What did he want with Tom anyway, stud services?
The burly_ farmer stated his occupation; he was a dairy farmer named Buck Henry. Needed help, he did. Needed someone young and strong and eager to earn good wages. "Don't want nobody weak, shiftless, or lazy, or unable to take orders."
Pa took umbrage at that. "Why, my Tom has never had a lazy day in his life." He looked proudly at Tom, while Tom scowled and seemed miserable, and tried to stay at my side.
"Good, strong-looking boy," Buck Henry said with approval. He handed Pa the five hundred in cash, signed the papers Pa had ready, accepted his receipt, seized Tom by the arm, pulled him toward the door. Tom tried to drag his feet, but Pa was behind him shoving him on, and kicking his shins when he moved too slowly. Grandpa rocked on and on, whittling.
At the door Tom broke. "I don't want to go!" he yelled, fighting to free himself.
Pa moved quickly to position himself directly behind me; though I tried to escape, I moved too late. Pa caught me by my hair. His large hands moved downward to rest lightly on my shoulders, his fingers spread in such a way all he had to do was move them slightly and he'd have a choking grip on my neck and throat.
It seemed to chill Tom to see me held like a chicken about to have its neck wrung.
"Pa!" he yelled. "Don't you hurt her! If you sell Heavenly like the rest of us--you find her the best parents! If you don't I'll come back one day and make you regret you ever had a child!" His wild eyes met mine. "I'll come back, Heavenly!" he cried. "I promise I won't forget our pledge. I love what you've tried to do for me, and for all of us. I'll write often, keep you so much in touch you won't even miss me--and I'll get to you wherever you are! I make this solemn vow never to be broken."
My eyes felt strained, swollen, as if I had two discolored, dreary suns behind the blackest of all moons. "Tom . . . write, please, please. We'll see each other again--I know we will. Mr. Henry, where do you live?"
"Don't tell her," warned Pa, tightening his fingers about my throat. "This one means nothing but trouble, and don't let Tom write. At least not to this one named Heaven. She should have been called Hell."
"Pa!" screamed Tom. "She's the best you got, and you don't know it."
Tom was outside now and the door had been left open. I managed to call out, my voice hoarse, "There's always a bridge up ahead, Thomas Luke, you keep remembering that. And you'll achieve your dream, I know!"
Turning, he heard and understood, waved, smiled, then got in the truck and kept his head out of the window, yelling back to me. "No matter where you go or who tries to keep us apart, I'll find you, Heavenly! I'll never forget you! Together we'll find Keith and Our Jane, just like we planned to do!"
The dirty old truck drove off, headed toward the rough road, and disappeared, and I was alone with Pa and Grandpa. Feeling numb, in a state of shock so despairing I sank to the floor when Pa released me.
Already I sensed just what lay ahead for Tom.
No more education for Tom, no more fun hunting and fishing for Tom, or baseball playing, or fooling around with his buddies, just work, work, and more work.
Tom with his brilliant mind, his dreams and aspirations, would be buried out in the middle of cow pastures, living a farmer's life, the kind he'd often said he'd never put up with.
But what lay ahead for me frightened me just as much.
eleven MY CHOICE
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