Juneteenth on Larkey Ranch

It was a fine day, that June eighteenth. Sunny, warm, and breezy; the bluest of skies, the greenest of grass, and the whitest of clouds to top it all off. Our pillbugs grazed in their pasture, lumbering along as they fattened for the table. The aphids stuck their green faces in sap, doing the same. Over the fence, our neighbor Simmons led his herd of fuzzy honeybees out to pasture. It was a fine day indeed.

Looking out onto the new day, I relaxed for a moment after breakfast. There were things to do and deals to make, plus I had to go to town that afternoon. I got up and called for my little gnat, Ben. “Boy! Saddle my wasp!”

My name is George Larkey, proud inheritor of the Larkey ranch out west in Texas. I watched Ben scramble for the wasp-saddle, his pathetic wings buzzing every once in a while. That bothered me to no end. “Boy, keep them wings still,” I said irritably, and he obeyed guiltily. I tell you, it takes a million times for an idea to go through a gnat’s head. They’re as thick as pillbug hide.

With my wasp Jasmine saddled, I set out for the pillbug pasture and rode to the fence. Simmons came over, abandoning his bees for a moment. “Howdy, neighbor,” he said amiably. “Jasmine’s lookin’ fine t’day.”

“Thanks,” I said, patting the wasp’s slick thorax. Ben kept her polished. “I wondered if I c’d borrow yer bee-herder. I hafta bring in the pillbugs early t’day.”

“Sure,” Simmons said, and scraped one wing against his body. Immediately a lively little earwig leapt out from among the fuzzy bees and began scurrying toward Simmons. “He’s a good little guy, but don’t let him nip at the legs,” he cautioned. “He’s a little excitable. Aren’t ya, boy?” he asked, scratching the earwig behind one antennae.

I took the little earwig and drove my pillbugs into their corral. They were a little confused, but content with the crabapple slivers that awaited them there. I caught Ben sneaking one. For that, I sent him to clean the aphids’ pen. Meanwhile, I returned Simmons’ earwig and put Jasmine in her stall. When I went to check on the aphids I saw Ben finishing up.

Aphids aren’t the best of housekeepers, so Ben was covered from head to toe in muck. “Boy,” I said, “wash up before you unsaddle Jasmine and shine ‘er. I don’t want any aphid-muck on her coat today.” Ben nodded and tried to shake some of the muck off of his abdomen. “I need the two fattest aphids for town.”

Aphids aren’t the easiest beasts to catch either. I had a good laugh at Ben trying to get a hold on one, and he finally did bring me two fat ones. I told him to put them in a crate, and that I’d take care of Jasmine. “Go to the spider-house,” I told him then, “And fetch me a crate of eggs.”

As for myself, I went back to Jasmine and gave her something to eat. That done, I went back to the house for some lunch; I’d head to town after that. Inside, I kissed my wife, Lorena, and sat down to a dinner. Lorena hadn’t made the meal, of course; it’d been Gertrude, the kitchen-gnat. That gnat was a mighty good cook, but she had the same terrible ignorant habit as Ben; beat her wings all the time, and I’ve struck her often for doing it after I told her to stop.

On top of that, she’s ugly. Not that any gnat is anything to look at…but next to Lorena, who sat next to me and picked at her spider eggs daintily, Gertrude is plain horrid. Lorena is the most beautiful female on this side of the Mississippi, and that’s saying quite a bit. I finished my worm and stood to go. Lorena looked at me with that melting look of hers.

“George,” she said in that female voice she used when she wanted something. “When you’re in town, git me somethin’ special, all right?” I looked at her funny, and she gave me a you-know-what-I-mean look. I sat down again.

“Lorena, whaddy’ mean?” I asked, afraid to know the answer. Her dainty wings gave a little buzz in answer. “You’re not…you’re not laying are you?” She nodded. I ‘most fell over…me, a father. I couldn’t help the mental image of eggs…but then I stood to go. “I git y’ what y’ need, Lorena,” I said, and then went out before I felt faint again. Outside the door Ben waited with that ancient house-wasp of his. He’d hitched up a cart to it; in it was the crate of spider eggs and the two aphids.

We went into town without a word, twice I had to swat Ben for buzzing away like he does. But we came into town and I went into the aphid market with my two. “Wait by the wasps, boy,” I told Ben, and hauled the crate myself. They sold fast to a fat planter. He turned them this way and that and asked what they weighed. I told him, and he kept muttering, “Ah don’t b’lieve y’.” But he took a look at their stylets and scraped his wings in thought. Finally we bartered. I got a high deal, enough to buy what Lorena needed and extra. On my way back to the wasps I saw some prime grubs and bought one for Gertrude to cook; Lorena and our eggs could benefit from some good thick grub, and I’ve never met a grub I didn’t like.

I went back to the wasps and told Ben to fetch a price for the eggs while I went for what Lorena wanted. When I’d finished my errand, I still had to wait a few minutes for that stupid gnat. They never learn!

He got conned, I’m sure of it. I’ve never seen a crate of good eggs go for so cheap. I made a note to tan him for it when we got back to the ranch, and then we made ready to leave. On the way out, one of my friends came up to me. “George,” he said in greeting, acting secretive.

“Howdy Ned,” I said. He drew me aside from Ben.

“Got a minute?” he asked.

“Why, Ned?” I questioned. “I gotta get this stuff home to Lorena.”

“Well,” said Ned, speaking real quiet, “there’s a gnat auction behind the bar.”

“I thought the war ended the auctions,” I said. Ned shook his head.

“All but this one more,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t mean it. Just as well, I thought. Gnats died fast and needed replacement, after all. I wasn’t opposed to that. “It’s the gnatter’s last brood.”

I was mighty tempted. I had to get home because Lorena’s stuff would spoil pretty quickly, but I wanted to go to that auction. “I’ll go,” I said finally. “My gnat can head home with the stuff.” I walked over to Ben and handed him Lorena’s package. “Go back to the ranch,” I instructed slowly, “and give this package and the money to Lorena. No loiterin’, no dawdlin’, and if you steal anything I’ll pull your wings off.”

Ben nodded hurriedly and rattled the instructions back. “Go t’ th’ ranch, gi’ th’ stuff t’ Miz Loreenuh, and nuttin’ else. Got it, Mars Larkey.”

He was on his house-wasp and off like a shot. I swung up on Jasmine and followed Ned behind the bar. There was the auction, just like I remember them from before the war. Auctions; such exciting things. Everybody’s yelling and looking at the gnats to be had, and it’s so energizing when there’s a good one to be had. “So,” Ned asked me when we were standing in the bidder’s crowd. “What’s your pleasure?”

“I’m thinking of a female,” I said, and before Ned could crack any jokes, I said, “’cuz Lorena’s layin’ our first brood an’ I need someone who c’n help out.”

“I can git you something,” broke in someone to my right. I turned and there stood a gnatter holding an ancient female gnat by one wing. “I can guarantee you she’s got laying experience.”

I surveyed the gnat. “I’ll take her,” I said when I was satisfied, and I paid. Oh, but how to take her home? That’s one thing I forgot. Well, I figured she was old and liable to break a leg at any time; if she did, then there goes the help I needed with laying. Plus my investment. So I let her ride Jasmine and I walked. My conscience just about laid me low for it, too.

We reached the ranch when the sun was setting, and I went in and greeted my wife. She was looking even more radiant, and when I presented her with the new gnat she was happily surprised. She didn’t ask about where I got it.

Either way, we sat down to dinner. Halfway through the meal, though, the door slammed open and in came my field boss, looking flustered. He tipped his hat to Lorena and then spoke hurriedly. “Mr. Larkey,” he said, “the quota’s not met.”

I put down the piece of grub I was eating, trying to keep cool; I hated being interrupted. “Why, Hank?” I asked. “Is it the soil? The sun? The gnats?”

Hank nodded at the last choice. “’m afraid so, sir,” he said. “In the crabgrass fields no one’s bringin’ in the right amount.”

“That so?” I asked. Lorena was silent at my elbow, because she knew I was angry. Not at Hank, of course. It was the gnats’ fault. “They’re lazy, you think?”

“No sir,” Hank said, shaking his head. “I know they’re lazy. I calculate the quota knowing that. But they’ve been looking fatter lately, Mr. Larkey. I think they’re eating our crop.”

I stood. This, I must admit, I hadn’t expected. I hadn’t expected it at all—but I trusted Hank, my most veteranned overseer. “I’ll be back in a moment, Lorena,” I said to my wife. Hank followed me out. I walked from the house to the crabgrass field, fuming. There, I saw the ten field-gnats sitting by the fence, their stupid faces turned up. “Mr. Hank tells me you’ been eatin’ my crop,” I said to them.

One of them, spokesperson for the dumb rest, stood. “We nevuh steal, Mars Larkey, suh. Nevuh. We’s only ti’ed from d’ sun. Da’s all. We’s gon’ pick fastuh tomorruh. We don’ want no trubble.”

“Well y’ve got it,” I said as that gnat sat down again, “You’ve got yerselves more trouble than y’d ever like. Mr. Hank,” I said, addressing the overseer, “which of these gnats had the least in his sack today?” Hank grimly pointed to the one who’d spoken. The ringleader…I should’ve known. “Hank,” I continued, “I give you permission to pull one of his wings off.” Moans from the gnats. “The other wing,” I said, “will follo’ if the quota isn’t met tomorro’.”

Gnats…. Honestly; you shelter them, feed them, protect them…and they eat your living out from under you. And don’t get to thinking I was cruel; they’re gnats for heaven’s sake! They’re not like us a’tall.

It was getting dark. I went back to the house, but Lorena was in bed, asleep, when I got there. I lay down beside her, folding one wing over her body. A father…me…. Finally I fell asleep. I woke up to my wife’s shaking. “George,” she said. “George, get th’ new gnat. George, get ‘er quickly!”

Before anything could register I buzzed out of bed and got into the hall and yelled for Ben. “Where’s that new gnat? Miss Lorena needs ‘er!” It seemed ages for that lazy gnat to get up and get the old female, but it happened. I myself spent the better part of an hour locked outside my own room while goodness-knows-what female things went on inside. Finally the door swung open and the old gnat came out. “Twenny-four,” she whispered meekly. But I wasn’t paying attention; I brushed right past her and in to see my Lorena.

She looked radiant as ever, buzzing proudly over two dozen pearly eggs that sat in three rows in our bed. “Aren’t they something?” she asked. I sunk onto the bed, looking at them.

“I never figgered I’d be a pa,” I confessed blankly.

“Two more days,” Lorena promised, and licked me. “Two more days, and you will be. But let’s go to bed, George. It’s so late.”

“Yeah….” I fell asleep hoping that I’d make a decent pa. By the next morning I’d forgotten all about it, until I saw the eggs sitting in their little mire at the foot of the bed. Lorena was awake and fanning them with her wings. “Don’t do that,” I said.

“Why?” Lorena asked. “It’s good for them.”

“Get the gnat t’ do it,” I said, getting out of bed. I went into the kitchen and quickly ate the eggs Gertrude had already made. She set out some cornmeal, but I had to go. Ben was polishing Jasmine’s thorax when I went into the stables, and he saddled her for me. For some reason, he looked distraught. I irritated me and as I mounted Jasmine, I tried to figure a reason why. Then I remembered last evening, and the field-gnats. Was he upset about that? I shrugged it off and went out into the farmyard. One stray spider scuttled across the yard, a field-gnat chasing after it. Jasmine reared to avoid stepping on the both of them, though I wouldn’t’a been upset if she had.

I rode out to the pillbug pasture to watch the animals graze. It was another beautiful summer day, I thought. Life was the same kind o’ beauty; blue skies, white clouds, fattening pillbugs and fattening purses, and best of all, a lovely wife and two dozen lovely eggs in my bedroom.

My moment of wonder was shattered as I spotted a gnat coming from the fields. Then two. Six. The whole ten. And then more came from the crabapple orchard. Thwarted, I spurred Jasmine toward the oncoming gnats.

“Woohoo!” they were shouting, and “praises be t’ who-evah’s up deh’!”

Then up comes Hank, and the crabapple overseer. Hank explains. “The gov’ment’s gone and passed the cussed ‘mendment!” he shouted. The blue skies of my life darkened; I knew what that meant. But Hank said it anyway. “The gnats is free!”

Another wave of joyous ejaculations from the gnats. Then up comes my neighbor Simmons, riding his own wasp. “Didja hear?” he asked, looking just as worried as I felt. “’Bout the ‘memment and all?”

“I heard,” I said tersely. Then up came Ned from the lane, tearing along on his wasp. He drew me and Simmons away from the overseers and the gnats.

“The Amendment,” he began breathlessly.

“We know,” I said angrily. My life was shattering.

“I know y’ know,” Ned interrupted. “I’ve got a way out. Listen.” I bent closer, spurring Jasmine to flank Ned’s wasp. “I’ve got a friend in the governor’s office,” he said. “And he can get us some laws passed to fix all this mess.”

“Gnats wasn’t meant to walk the streets free,” Simmons said for emphasis.

Ned shushed him. “I know, gaul darn it. But while I git the laws passed, y’all need t’ hold the gnats to the fields.”

“How?” Simmons asked.

Oh, but I knew. My life was whole again, whole and unflawed. I moved Jasmine away from Ned and Simmons’ wasps and toward the gnats, who’d been joined by Ben, Gertrude, and the old female. “You’re free,” I said calmly, looking down at the pathetic crowd they made. They smiled and hugged each other when I said this. “But you have no money, no shelter, no food. No land.” The smiles faded from their loutish faces. “I have a proposition for you. You continue to work my land,” I began, and frowns spread, “and you can still live on it. I give you supplies for farming, supplies for living. You work the land, you live on the land.”

“It ain’t no diff’rent from befo’,” I heard Simmons whisper eagerly to Ned.

“You get thirty percent of the crop for yourself; I get eighty,” I continued. It was the sad price for the government’s mishap.

“We want th’ eighty,” said one gnat, the troublemaker. “We’s the ones workin’ th’ land, a’ter all.”

“Seventy-five for me; twenty-five for you,” I protested.

“We’ll take sixty, you take fo’ty,” bartered the troublemaker. There was no end to his insolence, I could see that.

“Fifty-fifty,” I said with finality. “Take it or leave it.”

“’greed,” said the gnat. “Will y’ draw ups the papers, mistah La’key?”

I bristled at a gnat calling me ‘mistah,’ but nodded and instructed Hank to draw up the papers. I rode back to Ned and Simmons. “Well?”

“Brilliant,” said Ned.

“It ain’t gonna be no diff’rent from befo’,” Simmons repeated. “Stroke o’ genius, mister Larkey.”

I nodded proudly. It was a fine day, that June nineteenth. Pillbugs grazing, bees buzzing, and the gnats were back in the fields as before.