Lexi
An hour later the rain came hard. I was hungry. For more than food. I checked the cabinets anyway. Checked the refrigerator. Empty almost.
Outside an engine roared. Then hummed. In the rain. Like a song.
I looked out the window. Lane Charles was on his tractor at the side of his cane field.
‘Goddamned fool,’ Walter said.
Hard to argue.
Lane Charles turned the tractor. Turned it again. Started toward our yard. Ran into a muddy ditch. Could have been drunk.
‘What did I say?’ Walter said.
The tractor wheels turned in the ditch. Climbed the bank. Slipped. Lane Charles opened the throttle. Mud fountained from the tires. Stuck.
‘Ha,’ said Walter.
But Edgar Allan left the porch and walked into the rain. Went to Lane Charles and yelled at him something that sounded like rain and more rain. Lane Charles climbed down from the tractor. They walked to his barn together. Came back with a chain.
Lane Charles got on to the tractor and opened the throttle.
Edgar Allan tugged the chain. Shook like he was breaking his back. Edgar Allan in his blue suit. And polished shoes. Up to his ankles in mud.
‘Stupid way to do it,’ Walter said.
The tractor climbed the bank. Slipped back. Climbed again. Rose from the ditch. The tires gripping the sand and the dirt. Lane Charles hollering and laughing like a drunk man.
‘That was nice,’ I said when Edgar Allan came inside to dry off.
‘That was goddamned foolish,’ Walter said.