Black Blizzard

The old woman found her neighbor behind his barn, where he'd shoveled dirty snow off the two graves.

Martha shook her head. "I knew I'd find ya out here."

Jesse said, "It was two years ago today she passed."

"I know. You gotta stop torturing yerself about this, Jesse. Liza would box yer ears if she saw ya."

"If I'd only had..."

"What? More schoolin'? More money?"

"More sense."

Martha sighed. "Don't go talkin' foolish. You couldn'ta done nuthin' different. I did the best I could, but that child was breeched and turned wrong. When a gal gets the toxemia, she swells up and seizes."

"I ain't blaming you, Martha."

"Warn't yer fault either, Jesse."

Jesse sighed.

"Come on inside before you catch yer death. It's freezin' out here! I'm makin' beans and turnips tonight."

Reluctantly, he followed Martha back to the eight-room farmhouse, thinking God had forsaken him... and very possibly the entire world.

By that New Year of '34, the black winter had set in hard.

Driven by catastrophic multi-year droughts, over-plowing, and intensive farming due to low market prices, the land was defenseless after the autumn rains stopped. Strong winds mixed loose topsoil into the blizzards. Snow fell brown and red from the great plains all the way to New England.

It was so cold, livestock sometimes froze standing up in their stalls.

Milk and mail delivery stalled. Automobiles were worthless. Trains couldn't deliver coal. People reverted to using horses and sleighs like their fore-parents.

In Indiana, the crop most often grown was maize. So now that firewood was scarce, most folk burned corn in their cookstoves.

Martha was knocking on Jesse's door just after dawn. She kept pounding, harder and harder, yelling, "Come look, Jesse! You gotta see!"

When he opened the door, he gulped audibly.

His farm was now lush with new grass. Towering apple trees marked the edges of his three acres, laden with fruit the color of fresh arterial blood. The trees extended even beyond his property in some directions, growing out of nine-foot snowdrifts that had buried fences.

Martha looked dumbfounded at Jesse as she pointed out all the sprouting vibrant vines between them and the new orchards. "Potatoes! Those are potato plants, Jesse!"

She dropped to her knees to pray.

Steam rose from the heat of the heavy potato leaves, swirling in the branches of the apple trees like swamp fog.

Jesse's farm was a green scar cut into the white valley. The rising smoke could be seen for miles.

When Jesse surveyed his property, he discovered his farm wasn't the only one God selected for this inexplicable profusion.

Vance Russel's property was butted up against Jesse's, separated by a barbwire fence now no longer buried in snow. Vance was foulmouthed, greedy drunkard who never went to church— a womanizing cad with whom Jesse had little to do, until that unnatural January day.

Jesse saw Vance's farm had also been blessed with green grasses, abundant potatoes, and a big grove of apple trees.

He couldn't understand it. Why would God bless either of them, while all their other neighbors starved?

Vance was scanning his own land and saw Jesse near the fenceline. He walked over, sling-carrying a Winchester rifle. "So, you got it too, huh?"

Jesse was still incredulous. "How'd this happen?"

"Hell if I know. But I sure know what I'm gonna do about it!"

"What?"

"You just stay on your side of the wire and I'll stay on mine."

With that, Vance walked off, twice looking back in Jesse's direction.

Jesse went back to his barn, where all he had left was a single cow, five chickens, and his beloved old horse. Gathering several burlap sacks, he then immediately set about picking apples.

Martha dug up potatoes to make a big pot of soup.

Late that afternoon, the Henderson family— Otis, Betty, and their two boys— rode in their horse-drawn sleigh. They'd seen the green and the rising smoke. Jesse didn't hesitate to invite them in.

Naturally, Otis wanted to know what made Jesse's land special.

"Search me."

Martha still looked flabbergasted. "We've been saved!"

Betty started to cry.

Jesse thought again of all the people throughout the countryside who hadn't been so lucky.

That morning, everyone started working like dogs to bring in the unseasonable harvest, uncertain how long it would last. Both apples and potatoes made not only a nutritious diet, they could also be perfectly stored in the root cellar.

Then, a few days later, Otis was about set off on his horse-drawn sleigh with his oldest son.

"I'll go as far as I kin, Jesse, but the farther north I go, the deeper the drifts."

"I know. But ya gotta get at least as far as Eppley's place. They've got six young'uns. T'wouldn't be right to have all this excess and not share with neighbors in need."

"I know."

"See if you can stay overnight with the Eppley. Maybe you and Barry can keep going north til ya make it all the way to Anderson. Tell the whole town. There probably ain't much left by now at the General Store. Tell everybody they're welcome to what I got."

"In this weather, it could take me the better part of a week to get to Anderson and back."

"Not if ya get folk to form a shovel brigade. You'll get back quicker than ya think, Otis."

"Provided it doesn't snow anymore."

Jesse glanced back at his enigmatic orchard. "I told ya I'd go if you don't wanna."

"No. That old horse of yours wouldn't make it. You just take care of Betty and little Roy while I'm gone."

"I swear on my honor. Godspeed, Otis."

Otis and big Roy rode off out of the warm clean spring into the cold dirty winter.

Later that day, Jesse was digging potatoes, his back breaking, when he realized he was actually sweating.

He had expected to sweat again until April.

Jesse, little Roy, and the womenfolk kept picking apples and digging potatoes in the days that followed.

The malnourished Chadwicks arrived the next day, Lester, his wife Gloria, and their newborn daughter Lucille. She told Jesse he'd surely saved her baby's life.

Jesse wondered why God hadn't allowed him to save his own.

More people started straggling in that week. Everybody was astonished when they reached the oasis.

Some looked at Jesse with awe, others with fear.

When he and Martha were alone together one morning in the barn, she told him, "You look plum worn out and day ain't even started yet. Yer wearin' yerself to a frazzle, Jesse."

"If a good Christian has the means to help others, that makes him obliged to do so."

"You can only do so much."

Angry with her, he yelled, "As long as I gots two workin' hands and there's apples to pick or 'taters to dig, I'll do it!"

He stormed out the barn, grabbing his shovel.

It was well over a week before Otis came back. Betty and little Roy were both so excited to see him, they ran and surrounded him in a family hug.

With Otis came a train of wagons carrying women and children and supplies. All told, twenty-seven men shoveled their way down the road from Anderson. The fellas wore wool clothing and buffalo skin coats and heavy wool robes. Women wore scarves, fur stoles, muffs, and snow boots— everything they could to protect themselves from the cold.

Seeing them, Jesse thought of Moses leading the Israelites out of Egypt. It made him uncomfortable to think of his place as anyone's promised land.

The bone-chilled people gasped when they abruptly passed from sub-zero temperatures into Jesse's personal temperate zone.

Martha asked him, "Where we gonna put all these folk?"

Jesse answered her, "We'll figure it out."

That night, they slept five or six to a room, and Jesse and others still had to sleep in the hayloft in the barn.

Worried they might eventually need to cut down his apple trees for wood to build more shelters, Jesse had his neighbors concentrate on picking the apples. Some of the women and young'uns dug up more spuds.

Lean-tos were constructed. The little timber they had was used with tarpaper to triple the size of the barn.

Jesse worked so hard, his hands would sometimes bleed.

When neighbors arrived bringing the right spices, the womenfolk started making apple butter. The men set about brewing hard cider.

On what should have been a frigid February 1st, folk got drunk to celebrate their good fortune. They killed the few cows they had combined, barbecuing them at night, hoping others across Madison County might see the glow.

Floating between the moonlight and firelight, the clouds looked bruised.

None of it seemed right to Jesse. How could they forget all the starving, freezing people beyond this sanctuary?

Without being invited, Russel and a few of his men showed up. Jesse thought he recognized a couple of businessmen from town. Vance drank, ate hardy, and talked to many of the revelers, never speaking to Jesse until he was leaving.

Intoxicated and savage, he said, "Looks like ya got yerself a Hooverville here, Jesse? You already draggin' yerself down into dirt and thankin' deadbeats for privilege. A man who tries to please everyone belongs to everyone. By the time spring comes, you ain't gonna have nothin' left."

"What do I care 'bout what I have left come Spring— as long as everyone gets through this winter!"

Vance laughed uproariously. "That's the problem with men like you! Can't never see a golden opportunity even when its nibblin' on yer ass."

Jesse scowled. "Weren't you supposed ta stay on yer side of the wire, Vance?"

"Yer right, neighbor!" He cackled again. "Whatever was I thinkin'?"

The next morning when everybody was having their communal breakfast, Jesse noticed a few of the more well-to-do people were missing.

Jesse saw what was happening on Vance's side of the fence. There were far fewer people, but they were far more organized bringing in their harvest.

Then one gray day, he learned about the toll gate.

Walking east down the dug-out road toward Vance's place, Jesse saw a barricade of packed ice reinforced with timber demarcating the front of the only other green glade in all this white. He was incensed by the time he reached a recently built gate.

Two guards were just inside their heated zone, one perched on a wooden platform. Jesse recognized him, a well-to-do grain merchant from the next township over— a fat man named Albright.

The other thug sat in front of the gate in a rocking chair, a shotgun resting on his lap. Without getting up, he shouted, "Stop right there, fella! Anyone beyond this point s'gotta pay. So what ya got? Gold eagles? Silver? You wanna sign over land rights? We got many ways to barter. We just don't take no scrip here."

From above, Albright chortled.

Jesse was appalled. "Yer charging people fer the right to live? They're our neighbors!"

"Yer bet yer bottom dollar we're making people pay! Outside here it's colder than a well-digger's ass! Inside, it's warm and there's plenty ta eat! We don't give that away fer free!"

Jesse told him what he thought of the lot of them. "Yer more crooked than a bucket of snakes!"

The man in the rocking chair aimed his shotgun at Jesse's belly. "I guess ya made yer choice. Git on outta my sight!"

That's when Albright spoke for the first time. "This is the sap from the next farm over."

The man looked up at Albright, then back at Jesse, dropping his aim. "Are you kiddin' me? He don't look like no screwball to me!" He laughed and slapped his knee.

Jesse said, "You tell everyone who can't pay I do give it away for free!"

Albright said, "Already are, chump."

Walking home, Jesse was more determined than ever to continue his charity.

When Jesse told Martha what Vance was up to, she said, "Don't surprise me none! He's a four-flusher! He bamboozles people— wants 'em on their knees! And when spring comes, he'll have bumper to sell!

"You ain't gonna have nuthin'!"

"I don't care!"

"Ya should! I know yer hell-bent on showin' everyone ya got a good heart, but ya do too much! More destitutes show up every day! And most these people don't appreciate all ya do fer them! The Jones boys don't work a lick! Neither do any of the Hudsons! All Caleb Cooper does is sit around playin' his banjo all day!"

"Caleb is old."

"So am I!"

Jesse sighed, "Martha, I didn't mean ta!"

She wasn't having none of that. "Jesse Whitaker, you can be a real son of a bitch when ya set yer mind to it!"

This time she stormed off.

A week later came the fateful day when, just before sunset, the young man ran onto Jesse's property from down the road that led to Vance's place.

The wind was blowing strong that evening, certainly frigid for the rest of America, but here it was a pleasant zephyr.

The boy was frantically screaming, "HELP! HELP!! Ya gotta HELP me!!!"

Jesse, Otis, and several men who were digging the last potatoes of the day quickly dashed up to surround him. "What's up, son? Calm down. Yer on high ground here. Yer safe."

"No, I'm not! They're comin' for me!"

"Who is?"

"Russel and his boys!"

Jesse's blood was befuddled, uncertain whether it should get hotter or colder.

Martha's voice was sharp, "What'd you do?"

"I was trying to swipe some medicine!" He grabbed Martha's arms. "My mama needs it! She's in bad shape!" Tears streamed from his eyes.

Jesse assured him, "Don't fret, son. I've got yer back. Don't cry."

Otis asked, "You the McAllister boy?"

"Yes!"

"What's wrong with yer mama?"

"She's got pneumonia!"

Jesse's entire body started trembling. "And Vance has medicine that'll treat it?"

"Yes! That's why I paid my way in over there! Used the last of mama's flatware! I picked the lock on his barn, while they were supposed to be in front of the house drinkin'! And some of 'em inside screwin'! I was just leavin' with the tonic when someone saw me!"

"Are you kiddin' me? He's got a lock on his barn?"

"He's got locks on everything!"

Otis offered his opinion, "He's meaner than a striped snake!"

Martha spat, "He's wicked!"

Jesse couldn't agree more.

The wind picked up, feeling chillier than it had since this strange season began.

Just as Jesse's fury peaked, he saw Vance and four other skunks with rifles walk onto his land.

All the minimal ammunition of Jesse's side of the fence had been spent long ago hunting game.

"Stay here!" Jesse told the others, striding off to face Vance.

Thirty yards away, Jesse and Vance met face-to-face. Vance racked his Winchester with a metallic *clack-clack!* saying, "Stand aside, Jesse! I gots business with that boy!"

"You got no business here! This is my side of the fence!"

"That don't matter fer shit, Jesse. This might be yer side, but he committed larceny on my side! And I won't countenance no thief!"

The biggest thug beside Vance said, "If you don't get the fuck outta our way right now, I'll shoot ya in the feet myself!" He lowered the aim of his rifle.

"It ain't worth it, Joe," said a man with a revolver. "You're already running a soup kitchen for ghosts. We're doin' you a favor. One less mouth to feed."

Albright was there. He declared, "Yer a vending machine, Jesse. And yer outta order."

Jesse's chin held high, he yelled, "Go to hell! All a'ya! You'll haveta go through me to take the boy!"

For an instant, he had the chance to think he was going to see Eliza.

The wind howled.

Then he heard Otis shout, "You'll have to go through all of us!"

He looked back, thunderstruck to see a couple dozen of his neighbors. Most of them carried shovels; some carried crowbars. Further back by his farmhouse, Jesse saw people rushing toward them holding newly-lit torches.

Otis was right out front, clasping a pitchfork. Martha was right beside Otis, holding an iron skillet. She hollered, "Wanna murder an old woman too, Vance? Will that make ya strut around like a bantam rooster on a dunghill?"

Barry flung an apple from the midst of the group, knocking off Albright's top hat.

The expressions of all the armed men changed.

These weren't the passive beggars that Vance expected. He saw hard faces and raised tools, a wall of living flesh and unyielding iron.

Snow suddenly broke through the extraordinary warmth, blowing into Vance's face, startling him.

Feeling powerful, Jesse smiled darkly. "What's it gonna be, Vance?"

Vance spat on the ground. "Enjoy yer soup kitchen, Jesse. Yer a fuckin' fool."

The next morning, Jesse woke later than normal. It was the best sleep he'd had all winter (spring). At the breakfast table, everyone was chatting happily. Some of the younger children were laughing as they ran around chasing each other.

For once, Jesse didn't begrudge them their joy.

He looked around but didn't see the McAllister boy. He found Martha at the cookstove, frying potatoes and asked her, "Where's Adam? I was gonna go with him to take the medicine to his mama."

"Barry and Lester took him at first light. All taken care of." Martha smiled at him, her eyes years younger than her face.

"Hey, Jesse!" he heard Otis cry out from behind him in a completely different tone of voice than yesterday.

When he turned around, he was thrown a bright red apple, which he caught one-handed.

Caleb told him, "Take a load off, Jesse! Yer cooling your heels while we do all the work today."