scurlock | oom: barlow estate (2)

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oom: barlow estate (2)

He sleeps well enough, curled on his side (after he manages to fall asleep, of course, nerves in his belly twisting at him for a while after the drink and conversation) and wakes with the first sounds of someone moving around the bunkhouse.

It's Jim.

Doc gives the older hand a few minutes of head start before he hauls himself out of bed and begins getting ready for the day. He notices that Jim, and the rest of the boys, all wear their guns, so once he's dressed himself, he settles his at his hip.

It's not dawn, yet, not by a longshot, when he makes his way over to the stables and barn in order to check on his horse - and see if Jim wants a hand in getting things taken care of. Might as well offer, after all.

"Hey, Jim...don't forget t'mind your hat," he mentions, quietly, as he enters the barn. His own is hanging around his neck by the cord, where he'll keep it out of reach of the horse as best he can. "You need a hand with anything?"

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Jay finishes his last swallow of coffee before he rises from the table, clears his dishes and leaves them in the sink.

(He also thanks both the women for cooking, manners and all.)

Then he heads out of the house, following after Samuel as they make their way to the stables. His gloves are tucked into his back pocket, and he pulls them out as they walk, smacking them against his leg a time or two so that he works the dust off.

Samuel's pace is fairly quick. One might describe it as being lively. Excited.

He makes quick work of the 'bacon sandwich' he grabbed from the kitchen. Before he's even to his horse, he's already dusting off his hands.

"We'll ride on up the west side of the property line from the gate. Make ourselves a proper rotation, ending in the southwest corner by sundown. Shouldn't be too much work, but I'll want to be sure to give the northeast field a good sweep before we head on down," he informs the two men, mounting up.

His horse steps impatiently, and he hushes him calmly, tugging on his leather gloves.

"Easy, Dusty. Easy. Soon enough, boy."

Cortez is eager too, shaking his head a bit against the lead while Jay works to untie him after pulling on his gloves. The horse catches the brim of his hat and tugs him backwards, choking him a bit before he reaches up and pulls the hat back onto his head.

"M'gonna have t'train you outta that, rascal," he mutters, righting his hat before he hauls himself up into the saddle and takes up the reins, then shifts his gun belt on his hips a little so that he's comfortable.

The sun is just breaking up over the horizon, the clear sky turning into that proper, endless Texas blue.

The two men laugh -- I mean, honestly -- as Jay and his mount commune.

"Shucks, I think it gives 'im personality," John teases.

"Eh, he's just a colt," Samuel smirks, shaking his head. "Kinda suits you well, Jay."

It takes about twenty minutes for them to get to the west gate, going along at an easy trot. They pass a small garden of summer vegetables as they go, a small row of peach trees, and grassy knolls full of blooming weeds.

Samuel has himself several acres of land -- some rich, some not-so-much -- but everywhere you look there's something to see.

"I gotta admit, I kinda think it's funny myself," he quips, patting the horse a few times on the neck as they set off for the west gate, heading across the property.

He's putting it all down to memory as they ride past, thinking about the notebook that's tucked away in his bag back in the bunkhouse. He didn't get a chance to write last night, but he'll try to get a few pages of first impressions in tonight, after dinner.

"Ya'll got peaches all over the county," he comments, idly. "Noticed that ridin' in."

"Land near Green Lake is better suited for growing them," Samuel nods, eyes out toward the fence-line. "What with the water an' all. They were my wife's favorite, so I had a few planted some ten years ago."

"The little Miss makes a hell of a pie, though," John murmurs, smirking. "And them jarred peaches, with the spices?"

An appreciative 'mmm' can be heard.

Samuel doesn't say anything in reply, but he does grin.

"How long you had the property, if you don't mind me askin', sir?"

Jay glances over at her father as the horses clop along quietly.

(He wonders if he can manage to take a peach back to Milliways and get someone to help him plant it from the pit, maybe give it a bit of magic persuasion to help it sprout. His room could use something living...)

He chews on his cheek quietly as he thinks back, brow furrowed.

"'Bout... fourteen years? Came out this way after the war ended in '65. Met Katie's momma up in Oklahoma, and we came down this way for land. Guess it was '67. Katie was about a year old by that point," he recalls, his soft accent rich and wandering as he works through the memories.

He nods slightly as Samuel speaks, listening.

"I don't remember how long we'd had ours, 'fore I was born," he admits. He's a bit young to remember the war - he remembers being hungry, and both his pa and his brother being gone away, and his brother never coming back. "It wasn't that long before the war, though. Handful of years."

Samuel nods, turning to look at Jay, then glancing over his shoulder at John.

"War hit lots of places pretty hard," he says, gently. "I was lucky to get this place, as cheap as I got it. The land wasn't much back then. It'd gone to waste, years the boys were off fighting. This is likely the best harvest we've ever had, to be completely honest."

His eyes stay on the fence-line, as they come upon their first sign of repair.

"I'm sorry you lost yours."

"It was comin' back and tryin' to get things in order again that didn't help," he admits. "Cane's a hell of a crop, y'gotta burn the field out and then cut it all."

He gently pulls up on the reins to slow the horse to a stop as they near the section of fence that needs fixing. "War took a few of our hands, an' my older brother."

He swings himself out of the saddle and drops quietly to the ground, moving to tie the horse so he'll stay put while they repair the busted patch.

John cusses under his breath, and Samuel shakes his head, already moving towards Jay.

"And for that I'm especially sorry," he murmurs. "Losin' family isn't easy."

Jay gets a gentle hand on his shoulder, before the man crouches to examine the fence.

They all talk some, but for the most part they do the work in relative silence. When the fence is looking pretty good again, John picks his hat off his head to wipe the sweat from his brow, and squints down at Jay.

"You make it sound like you still got some family left yet. How come you to leave them an' come all the way out here on your lonesome?"

Jay nods slightly, looking down. "Thanks," he murmurs, before he goes about helping with the fence.

(This he knows how to do, given that they had to do it on Tunstall's ranch all the time.)

"My parents are both still livin'," he says. "Daddy works goin' for coal, and my mama takes care'a the house. They got a little place in town, south Alabama - land's cheaper, and there was work in the mines for him. I got another brother, older'n me, he works on the river. My sister's younger. Probably gonna go off t'school in a year or two."

He shakes his head.

"I just...went lookin' for work and...kept goin', I guess."

It's common enough. John just nods his head.

Samuel, however, glances up, arms resting on his knees as he hovers in that crouch a moment longer.

"Don't have no sweetheart waiting on you?"

He shakes his head a time or two.

"No sir, 'fraid not," he admits. "Ranch work an' movin' all over don't really lead to much perm'nance, if I'm bein' honest."

That, too, is common enough.

Samuel nods, rising to his feet. "Shame," he sighs, stretching his back, sore from being bent over for so long.

He urges them to gather their things and mount up again. It's still early, but the sun is already cutting across the trees, orange and warm. It's going to be a hot one, today.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees, before he gathers up his share of the tools and then climbs back up onto Cortez, before they set off along the fenceline again, looking for the next place to stop and get to mending what needs to be fixed.

(It's a never ending job, fences. You start at one end, head all the way around, and by the time you're back to the start you've got a dozen more bits and pieces along the route again that need your attention.)

Jay doesn't mind the heat, either, but he knows it'll kill the hell out of your energy come midday when the sun is blasting down at the back of your neck and there's sweat at your spine.

They go through the motions for the next several hours, talking idly as they ride from spot to spot. They cover quite a bit, from family and politics, to land and stock.

It's already noon by the time they reach that northeast field.

Subconsciously, he's keeping watch on the horizon, eyes on the treeline, or nonchalantly checking in any shadows - the few there are, this time of day - just in case.

(He knows the date - year, roughly, given the information Kate's told him - and he knows it's nowhere near but his instincts won't shut down. He doesn't want them to shut down, not now. Not when he's riding alongside her father. They will never shut down.)

He uses the sun and the rotation they've been trailing along to place himself.

"This where..."

His voice trails off as he sees the break in the fence-line up ahead, question answered by the state of the wire and wood.

"Looks like."

A flock of geese take off from the tall grass a few feet off, on their approach. The area is sparsely wooded, but it's mostly tickseed and tall grass, and cattails where the land turns a bit marshy.

A ways over the fence, beyond the brush, you can make out cotton fields.

"Neighbors."

(The rapid flutter of wings from the rising geese, the rustle of the grass, does nothing to help him try to forget about the day Murphy's men took John. He pushes the tight feeling out of his chest.)

"They got cotton."

It's a statement, more than a question. Jay leads Cortez up to the edge of the damaged fence and then stops, causing the horse to take a few side steps as he surveys the damage.

"Christ, and what else, elephants?"

"Yeah, they got cotton," Samuel says quietly, stonily, eyes on the field beyond as he dismounts.

"Ain't th'only thing they got," John mutters, inclining his chin to the bush, before pointing for Jay's benefit.

The men and women working the field are black, already looking tired, worn, and raggedy.

Samuel stops at the fence, brushing his nose with his thumb absently as he sniffs, staring out at the fields across the way. At some length, he drops his eyes to the fence and begins to assess the work they have in front of them.

He follows the indicated direction that John points out as he climbs off his mount, and his eyes narrow slightly.

"Now I know I'm young, but if I ain't mistaken...President Lincoln had somethin' to say 'bout that, quite a few years ago," he remarks, voice soft with a hint of edge to it, but it's not that rough.

Jay's careful to tie Cortez firm, since he's well aware that this is going to take some time to fix proper.

"He's not the only one," says Samuel, voice even and gaze firmly locked on the fence. You can see the edge on his face, but for all intents and purposes he seems--he sounds--calm.

"Oh, they're hired hands," John says as he dismounts, snorting softly and coming around to Jay's side. "It's all perfectly legal. Jus' forget the fact that they ain't got not one white on their staff, or the conditions they work 'em under, or them supposed wages they earn."

He rolls his eyes and sighs.

Samuel is already working on repairing the fence, quiet and focused.

"Sounds like bullshit if I ever heard it, an' I've heard a helluva lot of bullshit, trust me."

Jay chances one more glance at the cotton field across the way and then shakes his head, before he moves to join Samuel at repairing the fence, the broken wire bent and twisted.

It's obvious this wasn't a minor break, or accidental, but Jay holds his tongue in that regard, as he kneels in the dirt at her father's side.

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