M'Lord, got to get this dang tractor fixed, but Old Mr. Lacey, he done give me no help these days. Says his sorry back done gone out and got to lie flat on his back or sit in his porch chair until's better. But the good Lord above, he done provided when I done needed. Miz Agnes and Mr. Norman, they staying a while -- Mr. Norman, he says they like the farm and until Miz Agnes, until she's strong enough to travel, they got to stay here, can we work for you, earn our keep. Besides, he got to fix his own car. I got my tractor, he got his car. Can't go nowhere with that car, Mr. Norman I tells him, and don't have no money for paying you. But you sure can stay a while if you like.
That was nine months ago. The baby's now crawling on the floor. Miz Agnes, she done took care of the house for me. I came down with bronchitis -- that's what Mr. Norman called it -- so I done stayed in bed two weeks back in October. So Miz Agnes, while I settled upstairs, she cleaned my house and gave it a shine. When I first saw, I could've cried. Hadn't cleaned like that since back in '85 after Old Man Honeywalker done died and left me a widow with 11 children. Well, 9 since one'd already left and one'd already died.
So tonight, I'm sitting on the porch, looking out toward the May stars. Thank you, Lord, for bringing Mr. Norman, Miz Agnes, their little baby Grace. Named for me she was. I hear a rustling in the leaves, what's that? I slip off my shoes, tippy-toe in the house, grab the shotgun, peek through the window. Young man wearing a hat, smoking a cigarette -- short, sallow, heavy beard -- he done approaching, now he crouches by the juneberry bush. He don't know it, but I can see him and I got my rifle aimed dead center on him.
"You get off this land," I yell, "or I'm gone to shoot you."
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