Emmetsburg: Forty-two

Silk Black. The crunch of shovels offended the midnight peace behind Avery Lysander’s barn. The air was scented with newly disturbed earth, diesel and the sickly musk of the dead calf still chained to the back of Avery’s tractor. It was the second of his cows to die in as many months. Not far away the first grave was conspicuous by hay and some rusting farm implements strewn to appear random upon the rectangular patch of barren earth.

Avery paused with a shovel full of dirt and loose stone and warily tried to gauge what might be running through the minds of Ernie Vogel, Myron Himmel. The men were at the far end of the hole, curiously quiet. They were a good three feet into the dark earth. The moon was just coming up, filling the hole with silk black shadow, so that it appeared the three men were wading in some nocturnal pool. Empty fields and hills swallowed the sound of their work, long before it might have been heard. The nearest farm was the better part of a mile away. Myron lifted another shovel full of dirt and paused.

“Government really run by Communists like you say, Mister Lysander?” Myron threw another hovel full of dirt onto the growing pile beside the hole.

“Communists in the government,” said Avery, “bank-rolled by the Jews who own the banks.” He wiped line of sweat from his brow.

“Can’t imagine they own all the banks,” Ernie Vogel scoffed a bit, pulling another shovel full.”

“Awe, don’t listen to that sap, Myron. What do you think this whole cow scare is all about, huh? It ain’t about some sick cows. It’s about money, pure and simple.”

“How’d ya figure?” asked Myron.

“Simple, boy. Can’t ya see what is staring you in the eyes?”

Vogel spit into the would-be grave and leaned heavily on his shovel. He’d been ruminating over a thought all night. Fatigue and the late our only served to encourage it. “Cows got the bug, Avery.”

“Because two come up sick,” Avery shot back bitterly, “don’t mean they’re all sick.”

“Got to admit, there’s a pretty good chance…”

“Just have to get the rest to slaughter. One more week, that’s all.”

“What if it makes someone sick, that meat,” offered Myron, “like Sherriff Saunders said?”

Avery let the shovel fall. It hit the ground with a combined metallic wood sound. He went to Myron and Ernie, folding his arms and looking upon them as if he was about to recite a sermon. The building rage in his expression drew both men to a wrapped and humbled silence.

“Boys, its all nonsense! We’ve all been around sick animals all our lives. The tuberculosis has come and gone before. Any of us ever come up sick? Anyone we know? Don’t buy all this crud. We don’t look out for one another against the Jews and Communists in the government, who will?”

Avery knew. He knew that to rule meant to divide and sub-divide the world into simple parts pitted against one another, and then to carefully manage those divisions. It is a simple thing, as that is simple heart’s singular weakness. The door to that heart was fear and ignorance masquerading as anger. It wanted to rush through that door and rampage in the world as an orgy of self interest. Avery looked into the wavering souls before him and threw open their doors fully. If that failed there was always the law.

“I don’t know,” Myron shook his head, staring into the ground.

Ernie Vogel was staring at the dead cow a few yards away. “Got to go with the kid on this one, Avery.”

“And what do you think’s gonna happen if someone gets a whiff about my two,” he emphasized two, “my two cows when they hear you fellas helped me bury the evidence? You don’t think those inspectors’ll be at your door like yesterday?”

The boy looked to Vogel, who gave a heavy sigh. Crime and secrets were the scoundrels surest road to guaranteeing obedience among the weaker willed..

“Myron,” Avery continued, his voice firm but sympathetic, “you went from a man overnight. Didn’t even let you catch your breath and that Commie sympathizer Sheriff brings the government right to your door! They pick on the weak and all alone. I mean, we all know them tests don’t work, but what do you suppose would happen if them inspectors didn’t find a single sick cow? What’s some young kid and his widowed mom gonna say when they condemn your whole herd, huh? Nothing, that’s what! A holy man without a congregation is just talking to the walls. A Jew is poor like an honest Catholic without someone else’s money, and a Communist from the government takes power by enslaving the working man. Only way for folks like us to keep what we worked and fought and bled for it to stick together.”

Vogel wasn’t entirely convinced. “Don’t know, Avery. Besides, bunch of poor farmers can’t fight the federal government.”

“Know what?” Avery was indignant. “Don’t want anybody in this fight who doesn’t have the stomach for it. No half way here, boys. Think the founding fathers of this great land, fighting for the freedom of all of us, went half way? God no! They risked everything, their lives, their families, their fortunes. They stood together.”

Avery picked up the shovels and held them out, begging and daring each to reach for one. In doing so Avery could count that he held them fully. Myron was first. Ernie Vogel bowed his head and looked away. Avery sneered and shook his head. He tossed the shovel on the grass beside Vogel and went back to work with Myron. Ernie stood and picked up the shovel. He studied it in his hands a moment before joining the others.